Let The World Burn

"Let's regroup and secure a safe haven. We cannot let this be the end of our people," Tridnya declared, her voice unwavering, though grief and fury burned behind her eyes.

"We are currently in Stronghold 456. I think you're close enough. We should plan our next move before this escalates beyond our control," a voice crackled through the cross-communicator.

Emerging from their temporary refuge, they braved the war-torn streets. Chaos ruled the city—smoke curled into the sky, cries of the wounded mingled with the clash of steel, and the acrid stench of destruction filled the air. They avoided major skirmishes where they could, yet any enemy foolish enough to block their path was swiftly incapacitated. Along the way, they saved as many as possible, leading them toward whatever safety remained.

Tridnya would not have wasted time going to the stronghold if she were alone. She would have thrown herself into battle without hesitation. But she had a duty beyond vengeance—she had to ensure the mother and child reached safety first.

Determination steeled her heart as they weaved through the carnage, her focus solely on protecting them.

Stronghold 456 loomed ahead, hidden in the shadows of destruction, a sanctuary amid ruin. The moment she entrusted the mother and child into safe hands, she turned to leave.

A gentle grip stopped her.

"What if something happens to you?" The mother's voice was thick with worry.

Tridnya paused, then, with a rare softness, drew them both into an embrace. She pressed a kiss onto the mother's forehead, then onto the child's.

"As an Elder of the Ethnarchy, my people need me," she murmured, her lips curling into a faint, reassuring smile. "Do not fear. I am far harder to kill than a pack of imposters."

With that, she stepped away, vanishing back into the storm of battle.

Not far from the stronghold, Kousi tore through the ruins, his form unrecognizable—twisted, monstrous, something neither human nor wholly demon. His path was one of unrelenting devastation. Flames surged in his wake, consuming friend and foe alike, a cursed inferno that granted no mercy.

A single thought raged through the madness of his mind.

The trail.

A pink afterglow lingered in the air—one only he could see. It was hers.

He had to follow it. He had to find her. Nothing else mattered.

And he was heading straight for Stronghold 456.

"Emergency, emergency! A hostile force has breached the Obsidian Promenade and is causing massive devastation! The entity is confirmed to be Heartbane, and it is advancing toward Stronghold 456 at an alarming rate! All non-transcendent personnel are to evacuate immediately! Repeat—this is not a drill!"

Fear gripped the hearts of those who heard the transmission.

Mortals were not meant to face beings like this.

"All Transcendents, we require immediate reinforcement!" The desperate call echoed across the communicators of those powerful enough to respond.

Transcendents—beings who had shattered the chains of mortality. Their bodies no longer bound by human limitations, their very presence warping reality itself. Where they walked, the air distorted, heat flickered unnaturally, and those too weak to comprehend their power felt only an overwhelming, primal terror.

Tridnya heard the call.

A deep unease settled in her chest.

"But who, in this age, would risk everything to become a Heartbane?" she muttered under her breath.

A Heartbane—one who had made a pact with the devils, a fool who had thought himself clever, only to fall short of his end of the bargain. The devils had taken their due. His body was theirs now, his soul cast into the abyss of oblivion to be tormented for eternity.

And now, that wretched husk of a man was marching upon them, carrying the wrath of something far worse than himself.

Aras the DawnBound was the first to intercept the monster. 

"My God..." he was a more than a little troubled at the twisted monster he was about to face.

The ground trembled as the presence of something unholy spread through the shattered district. The lone Transcendent stood firm, his breath steady despite the suffocating weight pressing against his very being. He had fought many battles, but whatever this was… it was unlike anything before.

Then, it came.

A figure twisted beyond recognition, wreathed in cursed fire, its form flickering between solid and something else—something that should not exist. Its presence gnawed at the edges of reality itself. The pink flames clinging to its body did not burn like normal fire; they devoured.

"Identification unknown," the Transcendent muttered into his cross-communicator. "Threat level… extreme."

A deep, distorted wail rolled through the ruins. It was neither beast nor man, but something in between. The creature's head twitched violently, its body pulsing with unnatural movements, as if struggling to contain itself. Then, it moved.

Too fast.

The Transcendent barely reacted before the entity was upon him. A claw, blackened and warped, carved through the air, striking with force that sent him hurtling back, smashing through stone and steel alike. Dust and debris clouded the battlefield.

He staggered to his feet, spitting blood.

It was watching him. The flames licking its body twisted in color, cycling through hues of pink and violet, as if growing more chaotic with each second. There was no reason in its movements, only hunger.

It lunged again. The Transcendent pushed off the ground, meeting the attack with a blast of raw force, but the creature barely faltered. It plowed through, clawing, swiping, shrieking.

The fight turned into a blur of motion, of attacks exchanged at speeds no mortal eye could follow. The very air warped under the sheer clash of power. But with every passing second, the Transcendent realized something chilling—this thing was not slowing down. It was getting faster. More erratic. More violent.