For the first time in a century, the Servitor Supreme was not working.
Libaax Akoma sat on the balcony of his private chambers, a cup of spiced tea in his hand. Across from him sat Empress Libaax Senan.
She was reading a scroll on agricultural reform, her brow furrowed in concentration. She wore a loose robe of green silk, and her Green Aura (Heart Chakra) hummed with a contented rhythm that resonated perfectly with his own Blue Aura (Throat Chakra).
This was the peace they had fought for. The Ifunanya bond was a warm, constant pressure in the back of his mind, a reminder that he was no longer a singular entity, but half of a whole.
"You are reading the irrigation report upside down," Libaax teased gently.
Senan looked up, flustered. She quickly flipped the scroll. "I was not. I was... analyzing the subtext."
Libaax chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated in his chest. "Is the subtext that you are bored of politics and miss your plants?"
"I miss the dirt," Senan admitted, putting the scroll down. "The Palace floors are too clean. A root needs resistance to grow strong, Libaax. Here, everything is polished."
Libaax reached out, taking her hand. "Then we will build you a garden of rocks. We will—"
BOOM.
The heavy double doors of the private quarters didn't open; they burst inward.
The wood splintered. The guards stationed outside were thrown to the floor, sliding across the polished obsidian.
Libaax was on his feet instantly. His tea cup shattered. His Blue Aura flared into Severity, the air around him becoming as sharp as a blade edge.
"Assassins?" Senan cried, standing behind him.
"Worse," a voice rasped.
Azure Oba stumbled into the room.
The sight of him stopped Libaax cold. Azure Oba was the wall against which the enemies of the Empire broke. He was the definition of invincibility.
But now, he looked broken.
His Red dashiki was shredded. His skin—usually a flawless red clay—was covered in grey patches of necrotic frostbite. He was shivering, his massive frame shaking uncontrollably.
"Azure?" Libaax stepped forward, dropping his Aura blade. "What happened?"
Azure collapsed to one knee. He looked up, his eyes haunted.
"Outpost 9," Azure wheezed. "Gone. All of them."
"The invasion?" Senan asked, rushing to his side. She hovered her hands over his frostbite, her Green Aura trying to offer warmth, but the cold radiating from him was repulsive. It smelled of Iku.
"Not an invasion," Azure said, gripping his Elao tusk artifact as if it were a lifeline. "An extermination."
He looked at Libaax.
"I fought them, My Lord. Three of them. Rakshasha Asuras."
Azure held up his arm. The skin was bruised deep purple, the lingering mark of where the ice-hammer had struck his Passive Weapon Art: The Shield.
"I hit them with the Spear," Azure recounted, his voice trembling with rage. "A full-power Active Art construct. It shattered on their armor."
"Shattered?" Libaax frowned. "Akin energy cuts through matter. That is the law."
"They don't follow the law," Azure spat. "They absorb Aura. And when I cut one... when I used the Sword of Severity to slice it in half... it laughed. And then it knitted itself back together."
The room went silent.
Regeneration was impossible. Entropy (Iku) destroyed; it did not build. For a creature of Iku to heal itself meant it was manipulating the laws of physics in a way that defied the Nommo system entirely.
"I ran," Azure admitted, the shame burning in his eyes. "I, Azure Oba, the Authority on Might... I ran from three scouts. If I had stayed, I would be a statue in that courtyard."
He looked at the King of kings and the Empress.
"My Lord," Azure said, his voice grave. "We cannot fight this war with Weapon Arts. Arrows will bounce. Spears will break. Swords will heal tickle them."
He pointed to his frozen wounds.
"Physical force is dead. We need magic."
Libaax looked at Senan. He saw the fear in her eyes, but he also saw the resolve. The peace of the morning was gone, replaced by the shadow of the Arctic.
"If the Sword fails," Libaax said, his voice hardening, "then we must use the Pen."
He turned to the guards who were picking themselves up from the floor.
"Summon the Tohunga," Libaax commanded. "Summon the Elders. And summon Scribe Agyenim from the ashes.
"We need every mind in the Empire."
He looked back at Azure.m
"Get to the infirmary, old friend. You have carried the warning. Now let us carry the weight."