The Lost Link

The chasm was no longer just a gap carved into the ascent from the abyss. It had become a scar on reality itself, a battleground where concepts collided, where the night bled at the hands of a man and a machine.

Zeta 4 was at his limit. His energy core, designed to last five thousand years, had already burned through the equivalent of two thousand. An astronomical expenditure. He could potentially recover some power by absorbing the core left behind by a defeated corrupted creature, but that opportunity was still far off. He needed to stay operational. He needed to win.

Kiyoshi was faring no better. His will and sword intent were at their peak, but his body was failing. Every muscle burned as if seared by invisible embers; each movement demanded more than he should be able to give. To make the Raven King bleed had been like cutting through the sky itself—an unthinkable feat.

Yet, he had done it.

For a fleeting moment, Kiyoshi almost smiled. A flicker of pride amid the chaos. It will be exciting to tell old Lian Xuan of my deeds.

But the Raven King had not fallen.

His principles had been defied, yet he remained. He did not need his victims' acceptance—he needed only his power.

The problem lay in his form.

The shadows composing him were unraveling, hesitant. The night that once served him as an absolute mantle now wavered like a flame gasping for air. The void he wielded fractured at its edges. The darkness, it seemed, yearned for rest.

He would not allow it.

The monarch of shadows delayed his silence.

Sound returned.

And then, he screamed.

Not a roar. Not a cry of rage.

But a chasmic lament.

Something not meant for mortal ears.

It was a sound birthed before time, destined to persist beyond it. The echo of a cosmic tribunal where the only verdict was oblivion. A summons that reverberated through the depths of the abyss, crawling through every bone, every circuit, every fragment of consciousness within Kiyoshi and Zeta 4.

Their thoughts wavered.

Zeta 4 recorded temporary failures across his analytical processes. Lines of code in his neural core erased themselves and rewrote in the span of a blink. For the first time in his existence, he fought against the logic of his own programming.

Kiyoshi closed his eyes for a moment. The sound slithered through his mind, trying to dissolve his resolve, to drag him into a void where memory disintegrated and the sword he carried became a meaningless shard.

But they endured.

They had defied the Raven King thus far.

They would not yield now.

And then they noticed it.

A light was approaching.

The chasm, once liquid darkness, began to fill with something different. But it wasn't the comforting warmth of dawn, nor the reassuring flicker of a flame in the gloom.

It was a crushing heat.

A light without shadows.

The oppressive clarity of a sun at its zenith, where no rest could be found.

Zeta 4 and Kiyoshi raised their eyes.

And what they saw froze them in place.

She walked toward them.

Beautiful, radiant like a living star. Her glow did not flicker, did not waver—it was absolute. Her skin shimmered like molten light, her eyes reflecting an endless golden depth, her robes flowing like imprisoned flames woven into divine fabric.

Each step was a proclamation.

A supernova personified.

The heat intensified as she drew closer.

And then Kiyoshi realized it.

This light did not merely scorch the skin.

It burned away identity.

She was the denial of shadows. The eradication of uncertainty.

The imposition of something greater than willpower—greater than existence itself.

Zeta 4 processed frantically. His databanks contained no records of her. Not even the Machine God's calculations had anticipated this presence.

And then, the Raven King fell silent.

Not because he had been defeated.

But because, despite the corruption, despite the putrid veil of the abyss…

The bond between siblings had never been broken.

The Lady of Profaned Light had arrived on the battlefield.