The edge of the Evil Forest was an oppressive place. The air hung still and heavy, dense with Iku—a dull, negative Ase that seemed to suck the light out of the vibrant canopy. This forest wasn't just wild; it was actively suffering.
Nguvu walked beside Amamihe. He wore his full Warrior kit: the red Isiagu cape flowing behind him, his neck covered by an Odigba that stretched to his lips, his Kente cloth wrapper secured by his Shendyt loincloth, and the Djed-Hedj war mace resting on his hips. He moved with the effortless grace of a true Monster, his senses alert for cryptids.
Amamihe, too, was ready for work. She wore her translucent, flowing cloak over her Choli, and her Ocean Gourd artifact was secured atop her Elephant tusk Mursi headdress. Imani, the Sand Cat, was nestled inside the collar of her Ndebele necklace, peering out like a tiny, furry sentinel. Hasani, the War Elephant, was nowhere to be seen—left to patrol the house perimeter—but his presence was a reassuring psychic anchor for Amamihe.
"The threat is right here," Amamihe whispered, stopping near a choked stream.
She pointed to a sprawling, fleshy patch of vegetation that was not of the forest. It was a noxious, purple-veined vine known as Nkonde-Ase, and it was actively draining the life force from the ancient Aidan-Tree it had engulfed.
"The Nkonde-Ase is a virulent agent of Iku," Amamihe explained, her Indigo Aura pulsing with quiet abhorrence. "It does not grow; it merely consumes. It will kill that Aidan-Tree in a week, leaving a massive, corrupted dead zone."
She looked at Nguvu, her Brown Iris eyes serious. "This is your target, Warlord. It is pure entropy. It has no soul, no Makoma, and no right to exist. Destroy it. But Nguvu—" she placed a hand on his massive, corded arm "—you must destroy it completely. I don't want ash; I want dust. Leave nothing behind that can carry the Iku residue."
Nguvu felt a profound sense of relief. This was an order he understood. This was righteous destruction.
He nodded, a fierce expression of focus settling on his hypermasculine jawline. "Understood, Ekon Amamihe. Complete disintegration."
He moved forward, channeling his Blue Aura directly intabout their Djed-Hedj. The mace sparked, the golden cosmic energy illuminating his face.
This was not the frustrated, careless Ase spike from yesterday. This was controlled, surgical obliteration. Nguvu used his Warrior discipline, funneling all his physical power and Ase into a crushing, concentrated wave.
SMITE
He didn't just hit the Nkonde-Ase vine. He hammered the earth beneath it, releasing a focused sonic boom of Blue-Ase and electrical energy.
The effect was magnificent. The purple vine didn't burn or break; it simply vanished. The ground where it had taken root became an instant, concave patch of super-heated sand, sterile and clean. The sheer vacuum of the energy released made the air shriek.
Nguvu pulled back the Djed-Hedj. The forest was silent, the air ringing from the force. He was breathing heavily, his body steaming, but his Ase was calm. He felt the tension that had been building since the wedding—the pressure of the Elders, the terror of the bed, the fury of the pillow wall—all finally released in one single, purposeful act.
He looked at Amamihe, expecting criticism for the noise or the ground disturbance.
Instead, Amamihe's mouth was slightly parted. Her Indigo Aura was swirling, not in conflict with his, but in fascinated harmony. She saw not the aggression, but the incredible finesse—the ability to focus that much power onto a single point without shattering the entire forest.
"Magnificent," she breathed.
She rushed past him, dropping to her knees by the patch of sterile sand. Her hands hovered over the ground, and she channeled a wave of soft, nourishing Indigo Aura.
"Now, my turn," she said.
She focused her Florakinesis. Instead of growing something, she commanded the life Ase of the surrounding environment to rush into the sterilized soil. The dying Aidan-Tree shuddered, sucking in the sudden influx of clean, focused energy. In minutes, the blackened trunk began to knit itself together, and tiny, vibrant leaves unfurled.
The Iku was gone. The land was healed.
She stood up, brushing the dirt from her mini-shendyt. She looked at Nguvu, whose powerful chest was still heaving.
"See, Warlord?" she said, a genuine, appreciative spark in her Brown Iris eyes. "You create the space, and I fill it. Your destruction is necessary; it's just a prelude to my creation."
Nguvu felt his body react to her praise—and to the sight of her working in her element, the ultimate commander of life. He felt a flush of Orange Huenergy (Attraction) that was completely untainted by the Elders' clinical mandate. This wasn't about their "supraphysiological babies"; this was genuine respect for her power.
"I need another target, Cultivator," Nguvu rumbled, his voice rough. "That was... insufficient."
"It was perfect," Amamihe corrected him, her voice playful. "But there are two more patches this way. Come. The house will still be there when we are finished."
They walked side-by-side, their Auras—the cool, structured Blue and the deep, flowing Indigo—finally touching and mixing in the hostile air of the forest. The tension was still there, but now it was a pleasant, charged coil, not a suffocating blanket.
—'They are finally communicating. Destruction leads to intimacy. Predictable, still. But better.'— Imani yawned from Amamihe's collar.
The Warlord and the High Cultivator had found their date activity.