Deep beneath the Gorgon Isles, in a tomb that time forgot, the stillness was broken by a sound no soul had heard in centuries—
' 'KRA-KOOM!!! ' '
Stone cracked like thunder. Ancient runes stuttered, their glow failing mid-pattern. In the far corner of the Tomb of the Thousand Lords, past broken sarcophagi and slumped titan skulls, a single spatial array node hovered—a dim star suspended in a rusted cage. One of many. One of the last. Each node held her spirit man bound between realms. Marla turned toward it—slowly. She had struck that node tens of thousands of times across centuries. Not with brute force, but with controlled malice—a predator's patience sharpened by a tactician's restraint.
But it had never broken. Until today. Behind her, the barnacle-eye dias flickered to life—its crusted sockets pulsing with light from the outside world. A gust of qi.
A ripple of movement.
Sky.
Marla inhaled, tasting it. The air was different. Thinner. Vulnerable. "The boundary's weakened," she whispered. The vipers on her head stirred, sensing her rising intent. Her Intent and animus ignited—a deep cryptic green, the color of forbidden roots and buried wrath. Twelve serpents hissed awake. One by one they uncoiled, fangs bared, eyes glowing like furnace gems.
"Fire!"
Six. Eight. All twelve locked on. Their eyes flared a sickly emerald, and from their mouths poured beams of condensed Animus—focused annihilation, sculpted into laser-like destruction. The beams struck as one. A crescendo of shrieking stone and seething green animus burst across the tomb, searing into the node like divine punishment. The air split. The node howled. Runes bled red light.
Then—
' ' SHRACKK! ' '
The node shattered. Shards of mirrored boundary glyphs fell like rain. The walls of the tomb trembled. Dust curled into the air like breath from an ancient beast. Marla's wings flared wide—majestic and ruinous. Her silhouette, backlit by green flame, loomed across the shattered stone like an omen carved in stone. "Last spiritual ward severed." She smiled, viper fangs glinting. A serpent nuzzled her cheek, steam rising from its scaled jaw like incense.
Then—
The soul chains on her arms cracked. The ones on her ankles shattered. The magic that bound her spirit for centuries failed. Now she needed a way to free her corporal flesh. She stepped forward—but froze. She smelled them. The scent of new blood. She vanished into the dark without a sound. A second later, the massive obsidian doors sealing her prison groaned. Cracked split and then opened. They moved without sound. No footsteps. No breath. Just whispers of qi, masked by a shroud technique older than most kingdoms.
The Koga had arrived. Seven cloaked figures in black-and-indigo garb knelt along the edge of the cliff face overlooking the ruined temple, their masks reflecting only moonlight and intent. Each bore a different symbol—Fang, Smoke, Chain, Raven, Thorn, Veil, and Whisper. Elites. From the shadows, the clan's leader emerged.
Master Kaisho, the Smoke-Eater, wrapped in a long black coat lined with toxin-warding scrolls, his voice barely more than a breath: "We're here. The Tomb of the Thousand Lords..."
One of the younger assassins, Whisper, looked down at the desolate, bone-strewn structure half-swallowed by the jungle mist. Her voice buzzed faintly through the comm-rune: "This place reeks of old death, Kaisho-sama. Are we sure the eye flared from here?" Kaisho held up a small silver disk—etched with writhing barnacles. It pulsed faintly.
"Positive. The cursed eye opened. Someone inside is either calling for help… or baiting a trap." "Same thing, isn't it?" Fang muttered. Kaisho ignored him, already moving forward with swift, silent steps. The others followed, melting down the crumbled stairways like smoke through stonework. As they reached the temple gate, Veil paused.
Her eyes narrowed at the great obsidian doors now slightly ajar, their massive hinges cracked and steaming with residual qi backlash. "Something just broke out."
"Or broke in," offered Chain, tightening the seal on his toxin-blade. They entered. The air inside the tomb was wet with pressure, as if the walls still held a scream that had nowhere to go. Faint green light drifted from deep within, pulsating like a heartbeat through the ruined glyph stone. Statues lined the halls—some broken, some whole. All of them watching. Kaisho knelt by one of the cracked nodes—his fingers brushing the still-warm sigil shards. "This wasn't natural. Someone attacked the array. From within."
He looked up, his mask grim. "Fan out. Locate the Dias. Retrieve whatever sent the signal. Leave no trace." The Koga fanned into the mist, blades drawn, breath masked, unaware that behind them—something ancient was watching. And smiling. The Koga fanned out through the ruin with perfect discipline. Veil moved like drifting smoke, her dagger coated in silence oil. Whisper swept forward, brushing her chi lightly against ancient traps and loose glyph threads. The deeper they went, the thicker the air became—like they were diving beneath the surface of some forgotten ocean.
"Kaisho-sama," Raven's voice came over the comm-rune, soft but steady. "These statues... They're weeping stone dust. As if something just walked past." Kaisho responded with a hand sign. Proceed. With caution. Chain and Smoke took point. Fang hung back, scouting the rear, blades reversed for silent killing. They followed the light. At the heart of the tomb, the barnacle-eye dias flickered—glowing faintly like a diseased starfish breathing in the dark. Then—A scream.
It tore through the comm-line, sharp and ragged. Everyone froze. "Raven!" Veil hissed. "Where is she?!" Then they saw it. Just for a moment. A flicker. A flash of bluish green skin—armored in black scales, almost glowing in the dark. It disappeared into the far shadows of the hall—dragging something with it. A dark boot. A severed shin guard. A limp hand still clutching a throwing star. Whisper. Gone. There was a wet crack. Then a sound none of them wanted to name—gulping. Kaisho's hand snapped up. "Form tight. Blades out. Eyes up. That wasn't a tomb wraith. That was—"
"A predator," Fang finished, voice grim. "One that eats ninjas." Thorn backed slowly toward a pillar, scanning with both spirit sense and sight. "No aura signature. It's cloaked. That's a… That's a cultivation technique. A real one."
"It's hunting us."
The statues seemed to lean closer. The hallway pulsed again, green veins glowing like fresh-cut bone. Veil looked to Kaisho. "Orders?" Kaisho's hand trembled. Just slightly. "Change of plans," he said. "Secure the Dias. Mark exit glyphs. We're taking what we came for—fast—then we're gone." But behind them, something was already moving. The soft sound of bare feet on stone. And somewhere just past the edge of their perception… a girl's giggle. Sweet. Mocking. The Koga moved faster now.
A tight formation, overlapping fields of vision, weapons drawn—reverting to their old language of survival. Silent steps. Sharp steel. Breath held. But it didn't matter. Something else was in the tomb now. And it was older than all of them. They didn't see her descend. Not at first. Medusa Marla clung to the blackened ceiling above them like a cathedral gargoyle, her pale wings folded tight against her armored frame. Her twelve serpent-locks hung beneath her like vines—each swaying softly, eyes glowing with malevolent green heat.
Veil passed beneath her. Thorn moved just ahead. Kaisho scanned the corridor with sharpened chi-sense. They never looked up. Strike two. So careless, Marla mused, a cruel smile blooming across her face.
THOCK.
A serpent lashed down like a whip—fangs flashing—piercing Thorn's skull in perfect silence. His body twitched once, then slumped in place, knees folding beneath him like cloth. He never screamed. The snake dragged him upward into the dark rafters. Veil turned, sensing the qi blink out. "Thorn's gone." No sound. No flash," said Fang. "It's pulling us into the dark one by one." Kaisho clenched his jaw. "Tighten the rotation. Pair off."
It didn't help. Chain took a step forward—his toxin-blade ready—when a flicker of red light bloomed above. He looked up just in time to see three serpent-eyes staring directly into his. They ignited. The petrification curse hit him like a silent scream. In a blink, his skin turned ashen. Then cracked. Then stone. Chain reached for his comm-rune as his fingers froze mid-motion. A moment later, he shattered—a delicate statue reduced to gravel by one of Marla's descending talons.
Two more fell before the others even reacted. Fang was ripped sideways into a pile of bones—his last sound a startled gasp before the serpents devoured him whole, armor and all. Veil screamed struck back wildly—her dagger slashing with laced qi-poison, spinning into a bladed dance.
She sliced through one serpent, then two.
"Got her!"
But when she turned, Marla was already behind her. The Gorgon Queen's gaze flared red. Veil screamed. Her body petrified mid-twist—locked in eternal motion, the expression on her face half-triumphant, half-terrified. Kaisho ran. Not out of cowardice. Out of clarity. There was no defeating this thing—not here, not with their current formation broken. But even that clarity wasn't enough. He reached the Dias chamber—just a few feet from the relic they had come for—when the shadows opened.
All twelve serpents descended like a net. They wrapped around his arms, his legs, his throat. As they dragged him backward, he dropped his comm-rune. His last transmission burst out in static:
"Abort mission. Repeat. ABOR—"
crack.
gulp.
Silence.
The tomb stilled. Statues wept dust. Only the Barnacle-Eye Dias remained, glowing faintly. Watching. Satisfied. Marla stepped into the light for the first time in centuries, her wings unfurled, her armor glinting like black coral. "Poor little worms," she said softly. "But I did warn you... someone had to open the door." She looked up through the dias—through the vision of the world beyond.
"Now. Let's go spy with our little eyes."
She smiled.