Torren awoke to the scent of storm root salve and the faint hum of qi-tuning bells. His entire body ached as if he'd been trampled by a thousand beast hooves.
His lungs burned with every breath—residue of the fear aura still clinging to his spirit like black frost.
"Still breathing," came the qi-healers voice. She gently knelt beside him checking his qi flow and tending to his sore ribs. Her face, normally stern, was tight with concern.
Torren croaked, "The others—"
"They know," Mercy said quickly. "Vash convened the full high den. You kicked the hornet's nest." Torren tried to sit up, groaned, and fell back. "Did… did they believe me?" Qi-healer Mercy nodded. "They believed. Elder Vash saw your aura affliction. Soren confirmed your tale." Torren closed his eyes. The memory still clung to the inside of his skull like a parasite made of shadow and laughter.
' ' you looked at me.' '
Torren's voice dropped. "It wasn't just him. He raised the dead. The corrupted…they're his tools. He's not leading them—he's infecting them." Mercy nodded grimly. "They're already calling it the Plague Mind." Torren forced himself to sit, swinging his legs off the recovery cot. Pain flared, but he didn't care.
"I need to get back out there and fight."
"You will," said Mercy, her eyes steely. "But first—Vash wants to see you. Now." The war table was quieter now—some elders returned to mobilize their warriors, others to light the old watchfires. Only Vash, Soren, Lira, and Kaelin remained. Torren entered limping but standing proud, arms bandaged and spirit reforged. Vash looked up and offered a nod of respect. "You shouldn't be walking."
"I should be hunting," Torren replied, voice rough. Lira stepped forward. "You faced Red-Cap and lived. You may be the only one in centuries who has."
Torren swallowed. "I didn't win. I ran."
"Smartest thing you could've done," muttered Kaelin. "Anything else would've ended you."
Elder Vash spread a new map across the table. Fresh ink marked zones of confirmed corruption. The red blotches were multiplying. "We believe this is no longer a border crisis. The Beast Vein Continent is reacting to a spiritual infection," Vash said. "Like a body reacting to poison."
Torren leaned closer. "Then we must cut out the source." Vash's finger pointed to the far western black peaks. "We believe that's where he nests. But it's not just Red-Cap anymore. There are signs of something worse—ancient entities awakening."
"Then we need Ash," Soren said. "Only he can match that kind of animus-level threat."
"He must be warned," Lira added. "But he's far to the south." Vash nodded. "A raven wing courier has already been dispatched. But until Ash returns—we must stall the corruption. Delay its spread."
Torren's voice was firm. "Then give me that mission."
Kaelin raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're ready?" He looked her in the eye. "I ran once. I won't run again."
Later that night, Torren stood on the Iron fang battlements, looking west toward the horizon, where green lightning crackled over the blackened skies.
In his hands was a fresh axe, reforged with inner qi latticework—a gift from Elder Vash.
The name etched in its haft: Grave howl. Beside him, Taryn stood ready in his frost forged armor. Kaelin and Lira glided down from the cliffs on radiant wings of qi and steel.
"Iron fang moves to war," Kaelin said, her voice sharpened by the wind.
Torren nodded.
"No more warnings," he growled. "We purge the rot."
And from behind them, the drums began to beat—the first war drums of a continent preparing to resist its own extinction.
Zap Zudo Zams shadow crossed the stone alcove as I sat lotus-style, animus gently cycling through my limbs and blood. My new cerulean feathers shimmered faintly with wind essence; my obsidian taloned fingers curled in a subtle Vorpal mudra.
WHRRRROOOOSH!
The raven courier descended with precision, landing just a few feet away. Its rider—a brown-eyed scout wrapped in beast hide flight armor—vaulted off the saddle and gave a sharp salute. "Ash of Iron fang," the courier intoned, breathless from the long flight. "Message from Elder Vash."
I stood, my wind-slicked cloak snapping behind me. "Speak." The scout extended a glowing scroll—sealed with qi and war-ink. I opened it with a flick of a talon.
"The Red-Cap threat has grown. We march within three days. All warriors are called to arms. Iron fang will stand—even if it bleeds into the soil."
—Elder Vash
My eyes narrowed.
So-
-It has begun.
I could feel the tremor of it in the air—the Continent's will curling tighter like a coiled beast. The courier watched me expectantly. "Shall I report your return?" I turned away, scanning the clouds below my mountain perch.
My cloak rose and fell in the wind, feathers humming with latent qi.
"No," I said.
"Why return in flesh…when I can arrive as a legend?"
I leapt upward in a swirl of blue and red wind, my cloud step feather sigil activating in a radiant blast of flight essence. I touched down on the upper ledge—my temporary aerie—where meditation circles still pulsed with residual animus. I drew a breath deep and still my spirit man unbound. My hands moved in a complex mudra—Vorpal Path sigils aligning with animus roots. The cliffside alcove pulsed with refracted light as I shed my physical tether and ignited my spirit man form.
Night fell over Iron fang, torches burning in violet and gold as the clan prepared its war rituals. Elders lit incense at the pyres.
Warriors adorned themselves in rune-scripted armor.
Then…it happened. A ripple in the sky. A pulse in the air. A figure descended in radiant hues of ember-red and storm-blue. I hovered in spirit man form above the courtyard—my outline sharp like a blade forged from lightning and memory. The wind howled around me.
One child screamed.
Another fainted.
An Elder gasped, "ASH HAS FALLEN AND RETURNED AS A GHOST!!!" Kaelin Wind strike stepped forward, mouth agape. "That's—wait—no, that's his Spirit—"
Soren Shadow claw barked, "Get the qi-forgers, now! He might be severed!"
Then, my projected voice rang out—clear, deep, and impossible to ignore: "Fear not, I am not dead."
"I walk the vorpal path." A hush spread like wildfire.
Elder Vash, watching from the high tower, smiled faintly. "He's showing off again." My Spirit Man landed lightly on the stone dais. Despite being immaterial, my presence pressed into the atmosphere—everyone felt it in their bones. Torren approached first, eyes wide. "Ash…?"
I offered a subtle grin. "Told you I'd catch up." Lira laughed in disbelief. "You… you idiot. You scared half the clan into thinking you were vaporized!"
I nodded solemnly. "Hey I couldn't resist, besides—spirit projection is the only way I can help from afar. I can still defend this clan." Soren folded his arms. "Then you've mastered spirit walking. Only two cultivators in Iron fang's three-thousand-year history ever pulled it off…"
My Spirit Man flared with wind-lightning. "I'm not like most cultivators." The War Hall blazed with war-lamps and projection runes, throwing long shadows across the stone walls. Elders, elite scouts, and bonded warriors formed a tight circle beneath the vaulted ceiling, the air thick with tension.
Then, in a swirl of red and blue animus flame, I emerged in the center—my form radiant, translucent, and unmistakably powerful. Elder Vash inclined his head. "Ash. You've traveled beyond clan reach. What have you seen?" My spectral eyes glowed. "You need to know everything—now."
I raised my arm. A wind glyph spiraled out from my palm, projecting a ghostly terrain map: mountains, corrupted forests, battle-worn rivers, and the towering silhouette of the Sun God Bloom. "Red-Cap has moved beyond rogue action. He's tapping into the root systems of the Beast Vein Continent itself."
Murmurs erupted. One Elder stood. "The land's soul—corrupted?"
I nodded once. "Yes. He's discovered how to poison the will of the land. He infected the Sun God Bloom, an ancient being older than our clans. If I hadn't severed the taint's nodes with Vorpal precision, it would've death-bloomed across a third of the region."
Torren whistled low. "So he's weaponizing the continent."
"Yes and much worse," I continued. "He's forming an army of demonic beast kin drawn to animus wells—tracking and draining them." I pointed to a spot on the map: a cursed trench near the Death Valley expanse.
"There. That's where he's nesting his core force."
Lira leaned forward. "And the Sun God Bloom?" I turned my gaze toward her. "Alive. Standing. It gifted me a drops of sacred dew…and three kinds of sacred fruits."
Gasps rippled through the room. Soren narrowed his eyes, "You're saying a continent-bonded beast is helping you?" My voice lowered, crackling with lightning. "So I'm friends with a Continent bonded plant beast what of it?"
"The will of the continent—of the Beast Vein itself—is behind me. I am its instrument now."
Total silence rang out. Even Elder Vash leaned forward, visibly shaken.
Kaelin stepped forward, frowning. "So what's your plan?"
I turned slowly, scanning each face. "You prepare for war. I'll keep applying pressure from above—remotely, in Spirit Man form."
"You'll have a divine specter striking at Red-Cap's logistics, draining his abominations before they ever reach Iron fang territory."
I reached toward the war map again and etched three crimson lines spiraling toward Red-Cap's trench.
"These are your targets. Strike hard. Strike fast. I'll open with animus bursts to weaken them."
Torren punched a fist into his palm. "Hell yeah, Spirit Commander Ash!"
Lira smirked. "Guess you are our guardian angel now."
I turned one last time, my spirit aura flaring outward.
"This isn't just a rogue warlord. Red-Cap's goal is apocalyptic.
He doesn't just want to win—
He wants to make the will of the Continent forgot it ever grew life."
There was a beat of audible silence.
Then Elder Vash rose, his voice like thunder. "Then we give him a fight to remember."