Recover tribe

As soon as the black smoke dissipates, revealing the kneeling demon, Andrzej's grip on his sword tightens. His eyes, crackling with electric fury, bore into the creature.

Before it can utter another word, Andrzej moves—so fast that the air itself splits apart. A sharp, deafening crack follows as his blade slices through the demon's neck in a single stroke. The body collapses before the head even hits the ground.

But the battle has only begun.

From the shadows, a dozen more emerge—hulking figures with glowing red eyes and twisted, gnarled bodies. They snarl and rush forward, their movements blurring as they lunge at Andrzej.

Aurora, however, doesn't flinch. A cold smirk graces her lips. She raises a hand, and an eerie, bluish mist begins to swirl around her fingers. "You fools," she whispers, her voice like silk. "You don't know what you've just walked into."

One of the demons leaps at her, claws extended—but before it can touch her, it freezes mid-air. A horrifying scream erupts from its throat as its soul is forcefully ripped from its body. The translucent essence twists and writhes before being absorbed into Aurora's palm. The demon's lifeless husk crumbles to dust.

Andrzej, meanwhile, moves like a tempest. With each step, his sword carves through flesh and bone. One demon swings a massive axe at him, but before the blade can reach, Andrzej vanishes—reappearing behind the creature. A brutal, upward slash splits the demon from hip to shoulder. Another tries to impale him from the side, but Andrzej catches the spear mid-air, twists it, and hurls it back with such force that it skewers three enemies in a row.

The battlefield is chaos—except for him. He is a storm, unrelenting and untouchable.

Aurora watches with quiet admiration. She has seen death in many forms, but this... this is something else. The sheer finality of Andrzej's attacks leaves no room for survival.

Within seconds, the last demon staggers back, trembling. It looks at Andrzej, then at Aurora, then back again, before trying to flee. But it never gets the chance. Andrzej raises his hand, and a bolt of black lightning shoots forward, striking the creature in the chest. Its body convulses violently before exploding into ash.

Silence falls.

Aurora exhales slowly, the thrill of soul collection still tingling in her fingers. She turns to Andrzej, who stands amidst the carnage, his sword dripping with blackened blood.

"Remind me never to stand against you," she says with a small smirk.

Andrzej sheathes his sword. "Then don't give me a reason to."

Aurora steps forward, her boots crunching over the remains of the fallen demons. Her fingers are still glowing faintly from the souls she absorbed, and a satisfied smirk lingers on her lips.

She glances at Andrzej, who stands amidst the carnage, his blade dripping with blackened demon blood. His expression is unreadable—cold, unbothered, as if he didn't just single-handedly slaughter an entire army.

Aurora tilts her head, watching him with intrigue. "Tell me, Andrzej… was that necessary, or do you just enjoy painting the walls with blood?"

Andrzej meets her gaze, his voice calm yet carrying an edge of menace. "I don't fight for amusement." He steps over a severed head and flicks the blood off his sword. "I fight to end things. Quickly."

Aurora chuckles, crossing her arms. "Efficient. But I have to admit, there's a certain art in the way you kill." She kneels beside a fallen demon and nudges its ash-like remains with her fingers. "Shame. I could've collected a few more."

Andrzej's eyes narrow slightly. "You harvest souls. I erase them. Don't mistake me for your kind."

Aurora rises, unfazed by his coldness. "And yet here we are, standing side by side, drowning in the same blood." She steps closer, tilting her head. "Tell me, demon prince—do you ever feel anything when you kill?"

Andrzej's jaw tightens. He turns away, stepping toward the burning wreckage of the village. "Feeling is a weakness."

Aurora smirks, following him. "No, feeling is power. Control is weakness." She leans in slightly, whispering, "But I think you already know that, don't you?"

Andrzej pauses for the briefest moment, his fingers tightening around his blade. Then, without another word, he walks forward.

Aurora watches him go, her smirk widening. "Interesting," she murmurs to herself. "Very, very interesting."

As Andrzej and Aurora stepped out of the building, they were met with a surreal sight. A strange wave of transformation swept through the entire village. The people, who had existed only as pairs of legs, began collapsing to the ground, writhing in agony as an unseen force altered their very existence.

Their bodies were changing—where once there were only legs, torsos began to form. Bones fused, muscles stretched, and flesh knit itself together. Yet, the pain they endured was unbearable. Their bodies convulsed violently, but they made no sound. They had no mouths to scream, no eyes to shed tears, no faces to express their suffering.

Aurora's gaze fell upon a woman who had crumpled to her knees. In her frantic movements, she had dropped her newborn child onto the cold earth. Aurora's breath hitched as she looked at the infant—just like the others, the baby had no torso, no face, only tiny, trembling legs.

For a fleeting moment, sadness flickered in Aurora's eyes, but she moved without hesitation. She bent down and gently picked up the child, cradling it in her arms. As soon as she did, the transformation began.

The baby's body started to shift—tiny arms formed, followed by a delicate chest and a soft, unfinished face. Its features were incomplete at first, but with each passing second, the child grew more whole.

Aurora turned toward the mother, who lay on the ground, shaking uncontrollably. Though her body was restoring itself, she remained featureless—no mouth to call out, no eyes to see, no expression to show the overwhelming emotions surging within her.

Then, finally, her lips began to take shape. A weak, trembling breath escaped her newly formed mouth. Her eyes, now fully formed, filled with tears as she reached out with shaking hands.

She took the baby from Aurora's arms, holding it close to her chest. And then, for the first time in seventeen years, a voice broke the silence of this cursed land.

With a gasping sob, the mother whispered a single, trembling word—

"My... son."