The Eternal Desert lay before us like the edge of a dying world.
From the last rocky ridge, we looked down upon endless dunes stretching into the horizon—waves of gold under an unforgiving sun. The wind carried no sound, only whispers of heat and time.
"This is it," I murmured. "The border between life and oblivion."
Lian Xueyin shaded her eyes with one hand, her white robe bright against the desert's glare. "The Abyss Source lies somewhere beneath this," she said. "A place where even spirits lose their way."
Her voice was calm, but I sensed the tension under her control. The desert wasn't just vast—it was alive, shifting constantly, hiding everything beneath its calm surface.
Behind us, a small unit of soldiers—the Emperor's "elite expedition"—waited silently. Their armor gleamed faintly, but their eyes carried suspicion more than loyalty. I hadn't needed Arina to sense it.
"Keep your distance," the commanding officer reminded coldly, though we all knew he followed secret orders.
I nodded without argument. A cage was still a cage, even when disguised as protection.
As we began our descent into the dunes, Arina's voice stirred faintly inside me, carried on the hot wind.
"Host, the Abyss Source lies at the desert's heart, sealed beneath the ruins of an ancient kingdom older than Tianyuan itself. Be mindful—the sands disguise both time and truth."
"What kind of truth?" I asked silently.
"The kind even gods forget," she answered.
Days passed beneath merciless skies. The soldiers murmured at night, restless under the heat and unseen weight pressing on the air. Sandstorms came without warning—walls of gold dust rising like living beasts.
Each time one struck, Lian and I used a fusion of our energies to form a barrier of steam and frost, shielding the camp. Even then, the soldiers stared at us like we were both miracles and curses.
One night, after the third storm, we rested behind a dune where the stars burned like cold silver. The desert felt endless, the silence deeper than ocean.
"Do you ever think," Lian asked softly, "that we're chasing something meant to stay buried?"
I stared at my hands. "Sometimes. But if we don't find it, it'll find us. The Dark System won't stop at shadows—it'll devour everything it touches."
Her pale eyes flickered with light from the campfire. "And if the darkness is already part of us?"
I looked at her, understanding that she wasn't talking about herself—she meant me. "Then I learn to carry it without letting it own me."
Arina's faint hum filled my thoughts. "You speak as one who begins to understand balance. Keep that resolve—it's the only thing protecting you from becoming what you fight."
A small smile ghosted across my face. "I learned from the best teachers."
Lian tilted her head slightly. "You mean me?"
"And Arina," I said, grinning.
She huffed softly, pretending annoyance, but the edge of her mouth curved. For a fleeting moment, the desert didn't feel so endless.
But while we searched the sands, far away the Empire began to crack.
In the capital, Zhao Tian's shadow deepened with each passing night. He sat in the Emperor's chambers uninvited, watching the old man's health wither like a candle in wind. The court's elders whispered that his eyes sometimes glowed red when he thought no one saw.
The Emperor had begun refusing court meetings, his once‐strong voice fading to silence. Ministers seeking orders found Zhao Tian on the throne steps instead, smiling coldly. "His Majesty rests," he would say. "I speak in his stead."
And so he did.
He doubled levies, punished dissent, called for "divine cleansing" against those loyal to me. Cities that once sang my name now groaned under his decrees. Villages caught between loyalty and fear vanished beneath imperial soldiers' boots.
Somewhere in the countryside, banners bearing my mark began appearing—suns etched over flames. Rebels whispered the Flame of Frost would return.
But under the palace ceiling, darkness thickened. The priests claimed they heard whispers from the throne at night—voices promising power, promising rebirth through ruin.
Zhao Tian listened.
Back in the desert, the air grew stranger.
We reached a canyon carved into the land like a scar, its walls black glass from ancient fire. The compass spun uselessly. The soldiers grew restless; even the bravest hesitated.
"This place feels… wrong," one whispered.
It was. I felt it too—energy unlike anything before, heavy and familiar. It pulsed faintly beneath my feet, like a second heartbeat in the world.
Arina spoke, her tone tense. "Host, we're near the Abyss Source. But something awakens ahead—an ancient guardian born from the same darkness as the System itself."
At that moment, a tremor ran through the ground. Sand poured from cracks along the cliffs, cascading into the canyon like water. From beneath, something massive stirred—two glowing eyes the color of midnight lightning.
The soldiers stumbled back, shouting. Lian moved without hesitation, raising her frost aura. "Mukul!"
"I know," I said, unsheathing the Snowfire Blade. Its glow cut through the shadows, red and blue merging into brilliant white. "Everyone fall back!"
The creature's roar shook the desert, its voice made of wind and fury. It rose from the chasm—half serpent, half shadow, body glistening with obsidian scales. The sheer pressure crushed air from my lungs.
Arina's voice sharpened inside my head. "That is the Abyss Guardian—a remnant of the first corruption. To reach the Source, you must either defeat it or be consumed."
The soldiers fell to their knees, but Lian and I stood firm. We had no choice—our path demanded this.
She turned her head slightly toward me, hair whipping through the wind. "Do you trust me?"
"Always," I said.
"Then let's melt fate together."
We charged as one, her frost and my flame entwining around us in a spiral of light. The desert itself shook.
And somewhere deep beneath those sands, within the sleeping heart of the world, something ancient stirred awake—watching, waiting, smiling at the chaos to come.