In a realm unlike Earth, where the very air breathed with decay, there existed no living being, only souls lost echoes from eternity. This place was called Mawt, a dying planet, its plants nothing more than hollow remnants, and the air poisoned with the whispers of forgotten times. The history of Mawt was shrouded in mystery, for nothing remained but the fading traces of its past.
It all began with Taweret, an entity who neither lived nor died, trapped in a perpetual existence. He consumed souls, his name a terror that echoed across the void. His presence stained this forsaken world, a shadow that refused to fade. He was born from nothing, a void with no origin. No one knew where he came from, yet he endured for eons, untouched by time.
His existence stretched across ages until the Najma appeared star of pure light, sent to restore balance to the Mawt. The Najma radiated light across Mawt, halting the movements of Taweret, and forcing him into slumber. Each day, as Najma's light began to fade, Taweret stirred from the depths, his shadow creeping out of the earth's dark recesses, only to retreat once the star reignited. Taweret was an entity of unimaginable power, a creature born of darkness, consuming anything that dared approach him.
He roamed the forsaken world of Mawt, devouring all in his path, but he valued the souls who resisted him-those who fought till the end. He remembered them, not through their flesh, but by storing their voices within himself, their echoes reverberating in his being.
As time wore on, the souls that wandered Mawt learned to hide from Taweret, but even their efforts were in vain. Eventually, they too were swallowed by the vast, consuming emptiness. The soul, it seemed, was something that required purpose to exist; without it, it would fade into oblivion, losing its sense of self. Mawt became known as the place where forgotten souls were discarded, a world without origin or end, where beings came from nowhere and vanished without a trace. Some souls clung to the belief that Taweret was a guide, a being that led them to their next destination. Others, however, called him the "Destroyer," a name fitting for the entity that haunted their every thought.
Taweret was like a world unto himself, a force that consumed everything he touched. Whenever he neared, the air would fill with the screams of the souls he had devoured. The sound was haunting-agonizing, reverberating through the very ground of Mawt.
The terror of those screams sent shivers down my spine whenever he approached. We could never remain in one place for long. With every new sound of his approach, we had to run, searching for another place to hide. Even in a world populated by spirits, there was no one to trust. We were alone, dependent only on ourselves to survive and evade Taweret's insatiable grasp. We lost countless souls in our pursuit to defeat Taweret, hoping to become the strongest "hero" of Mawt.
Yet, there was a nagging question that gnawed at me-was Taweret truly our enemy? We had no concrete evidence to support that belief, nor any certainty that destroying him would restore the lives we had lost. I couldn't even remember who I had been before I arrived in Mawt so long ago. All we had were the years we had spent in this forsaken place, and our time here became the only thing that defined us. The longer we remained, the more our rank was determined by how much time had passed since we first stepped into Mawt.
My rank was 128th, meaning I had arrived in Mawt during the 128th generation. While it wasn't the lowest rank, it didn't spare me from the tournament-the brutal contest to find the fittest among us. I didn't want to participate, but I wasn't weak enough to sit idly by and just watch. In Mawt, our powers stemmed from the elements that made up our souls. My element was fire. Many others shared similar soul structures, but mine burned with an intense, unrelenting fire, giving me an advantage. There were the core elements-fire, water, air, and earth-but there were also others, like metal, wood, shadow, void, light, and darkness. Each element was a reflection of the spirit within.
I had my weaknesses. My power thrived on my anger, passion, and will. Without those, my flames would fade. But when my opponent appeared, he gave me everything I needed to fuel the fire within me. His name was Zen-a name that clearly sounded as though it was taken on a whim. We were either named by others or, more often than not, we would carefully choose a name for ourselves that we felt truly represented us.
Hmph. He was the only one bold enough to challenge me directly, unlike the others who preferred to lurk in the shadows. His challenge ignited something within me-a fierce drive to push beyond my limits. I was determined to see him fall. And I wouldn't stop fighting until I made it happen.
Even in this barren land, I had found a family that protected me, unlike the others who wandered alone. We looked after each other, working together to collect eclipses by completing small tasks for the mercenary and using the rewards to buy weapons that aided us in the tournaments. These tournaments forced us into brutal confrontations, where the only way to win was to push the other into surrender. Sometimes, our weapons made the difference, but more often, people relied on their elemental powers alone.
I mostly relied on my powers, though I trained my spirit and honed my skills to adapt to whatever the fight might throw at me. The arena was a place of chaos, but survival meant learning to face the unpredictable. While killing each other was forbidden, we could drain the life force from spirits-an act that proved beneficial to those who sought to grow stronger through the deaths of others. It was a cruel system, one where the weak were left to perish and the strong thrived on the suffering of those around them.
The tournament took place in a Colosseum-like circular arena, a place where spectators gathered to watch the brutal deaths of others-typically those from higher ranks, individuals who had arrived on Mawt long before us. The ground was tainted with dirt and the lingering smells of different auras, remnants of the powerful souls who had perished over countless generations. The air itself seemed thick with the history of those who had fought and fallen.
This wasn't a tournament for just anyone. It was reserved for mercenaries who had earned high points through successful missions, their victories and survival leading them to this twisted form of glory. Only those who had proven their strength through blood and sweat were allowed to compete. It was a contest of power, where life and death were balanced on the edge of a blade. While some of the weaker souls were captured and forced into slavery, they too were dragged into the tournaments, fighting not for glory, but for their very survival. Their lives were bartered away, their fates sealed by the cruel hands of those in power. It was a brutal cycle, one where strength determined freedom, and the powerless were left to perish or fight until there was nothing left of them.
Maura tugged at my sleeve, her voice filled with concern. "Are you going to be alright?"
I smiled softly, trying to reassure her. "Of course. You know how strong I am, right?"She frowned, her eyes darkening with worry.
"But we don't know how strong that bulky guy is..." She was referring to Krythos, the brutal giant who had climbed the ranks by stealing life forces and threatening others. His power came from violence and fear, and he wouldn't hesitate to kill me just to get stronger. A survivor of countless battles, Krythos was a force to be reckoned with, and his face was as cold and unforgiving as the land around us. There was no trace of kindness in him-only arrogance.
"I know," I said, my voice quieter now, "but can't I come with you? That guy looks like he might kill you," she said, her soft voice trembling with fear.
She was right. There was a very real chance I might not make it out alive today. With my rank, I was allowed to bring a partner to the fight, but I couldn't risk her life. Maura was my light in this barren world, the one thing I couldn't bear to lose. As much as I wanted her by my side, I couldn't put her in danger. Not when I couldn't promise her safety.
She chimed in, her voice laced with concern, "What about Zen brother? Why isn't he here yet? He could help you."
I knew she was right. Zen, with his incredible power, could certainly help me in this fight. But he was also my rival, and I couldn't afford to owe him anything. Not in this place. Not when pride was all I had left.
I gave her a reassuring smile, though I could see the worry in her eyes. "Don't worry. I'll forfeit as soon as he tries to kill me." My voice was calm, betraying none of the fear I felt. I wasn't afraid of Krythos. I knew my limits. I wasn't the strongest, but I knew when to surrender and when to live to fight another day. That was the lesson my master, Tessy, had instilled in me. Tessy had taken care of me when I first arrived in Mawt and taught me that strength wasn't about never losing-it was about knowing when to stop before it was too late. His rank was among the highest, a testament to his wisdom and skill.
With a deep breath, I walked toward the stage at the center of the tournament, holding my head high, just as I always did. The crowd erupted in cheers as I entered, their voices loud with enthusiasm, chanting my name. "Luna the Phoenix!" they roared. I raised my right hand in a confident wave, smiling at them, but I wasn't just playing for the crowd's applause.
I focused inward, feeling the fire within me rise. In an instant, two wings of flame unfurled behind my back-symbol of my power, my strength, and my resolve. The crowd's cheers grew even louder, a tidal wave of noise that only fueled my determination.
I walked with small, measured strides, my heart heavy with hesitation. I couldn't bring myself to mention it to little Maura, but I had heard the whispers about Krythos. He was a nightmare in the arena, known for dispatching his opponents before they even had a chance to forfeit. The thought of facing him made my stomach tighten.
As I reached the center of the stage, I saw Krythos standing there, a grin spreading across his face. His eyes studied me with cold calculation as if he was already imagining the power he would steal from me once the fight was over. I stared back, locking eyes with him, refusing to show any sign of weakness. I was not just another opponent to be brushed aside.
The overseer raised his hand, signaling the start of the match. My fingers tightened around the haft of my spear, my left leg digging into the dirt as I prepared myself, stretching for what felt like a marathon.
"You are nothing without your element, little girl," Krythos taunted, his smirk growing wider. "Your place is among my slaves."
I narrowed my eyes, not backing down. "You're dreaming too far, Krythos. Be careful, or I might make you land flat on your face."
The crowd fell silent in anticipation, the tension palpable in the air. Then, the sharp clang of the bell rang out, signaling the start of the battle. A wave of sensation washed over me, my focus sharpening in an instant. Without hesitation, I raised my long spear and dashed forward, my legs pushing me off the ground in a high, explosive jump toward him.
Clank.
The sound of my sword striking the cemented stage echoed in the air as I landed where he was standing. My eyes quickly scanned for his location. He's fast, I realized. Krythos stood behind me as if he hadn't even broken a sweat, his stance unshaken, waiting for me to make my move. He was a beast, but I wouldn't let him have the upper hand—not today.
Krythos raised his weapon, a monstrous hammer-like form with a blade on one side. I quickly conjured a pit of fire in front of him, hoping to throw him off track. He lost sight of me, but it didn't take long before he realized my position. With a swift motion, he detached the blade from his hammer and hurled it toward me.
I leaped high, using the fire beneath me as a propellant to avoid the massive blade, which was nearly half my size, slicing through the air. I rolled midair, adjusting my trajectory, and dashed toward him, closing the gap. With precision, I thrust my spear forward, unleashing a barrage of blazing fire toward him.
But Krythos didn't flinch. It seemed like he absorbed the flames-or rather, he encased himself in a layer of armor, withstanding the full impact. The crowd roared in astonishment.
His body was massive and heavy, a mountain of raw muscle and brute force, which gave him a clear advantage in strength. That, however, was where my disadvantage lay. But if there was one thing I knew well, it was how to use my speed to counter such raw power. Speed was my ally, and I wasn't about to let it slip away.
I darted around him, keeping my movements fluid, and quick. Every step calculated, every dodge precise. He swung his hammer in wide arcs, each strike powerful enough to shatter the ground beneath us. But I was faster. I zipped past his attacks, closing the distance just enough to make my strike.
I kept my focus on his movements, knowing that my best chance lay in exploiting the gaps in his defense. His strikes were slow to recover, his weight forcing him to take a moment after each one. That's when I'll strike, I thought. The moment his guard falters, I'll be there.
As I landed in front of him, I didn't hesitate. I hurled balls of fire one after the other, aiming to wear him down. He barely flinched, his body a fortress of muscle and defense. I slid to his side, narrowly dodging the swing of his hammer, and then cast a massive wall of fire from behind him. He staggered back, barely managing to avoid the inferno as I prepared for my next strike.
His rage bubbled over. "That's enough, bitch!" He bellowed. "I'm gonna show you who's the master here!"I flew toward Krythos without hesitation, flinging my spear with everything I had. But before I could see if it would land, he pulled something from his pocket and swung it in my direction, not directly at me, but in a way that made me hesitate.
Before I could comprehend what had just happened, the ring he had thrown expanded, wrapping around me with a sickening speed. It tightened around my body, digging into my skin and binding my legs and arms together. My body hit the ground hard, my knees scraping the dirt as I tried to break free.
I screamed, or at least tried to, but the ropes constricted around my mouth, choking my words before they could leave my throat.
A sharp pain shot through my body, and I realized the gravity of the situation. I had thrown myself into this fight, but there was no way out now. The rope was too strong, and I was too vulnerable. Before he could steal my life force, I would have to take matters into my own hands.
I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face. The heat around me intensified as I reached deep within, gathering all my rage, my desperation, my power. I'll burn him with me if I have to. My body shook as I screamed in agony, but I didn't stop. The air grew unbearably hot as I prepared to unleash my fury. I will not die without a fight.
Krythos's face twisted in terror as he finally realized what I was about to do. "What are you? Stop! Stop!" he yelled, his voice laced with panic.
He turned, sprinting away from me, but before he could escape, he hurled his hammer towards me in a desperate attempt to stop the eruption of power that was about to consume us both.
I didn't want to resort to this method, but I had no choice. Becoming one with the fire was a gamble with death. It was suicide, and I knew the consequences, but I couldn't back down, not without fighting until the very end.
As I began to channel the fire within me, everything around me seemed to freeze. A heavy silence fell, the air thick with anticipation. Krythos's hammer was inches from my chest, its weight about to shatter everything. But then something unexpected happened-it froze in midair, turning into solid ice and hanging suspended, as though time itself had stopped.
I felt a presence behind me, something familiar. A hand grabbed me from behind, pulling me tightly against a cold, steady chest. The shock of it made me pause, the cold was a stark contrast to the inferno inside me, but it was a calming presence. I fought the urge to let the fire consume me and felt my body relax in his arms. His touch was gentle yet firm, grounding me in the chaos as if holding me together to prevent me from breaking apart.
I turned my head, and there he was-Zen. His eyes burned with fury, his gaze locked on Krythos, as if he were ready to tear through anyone who came near. Yet his touch was soft, his hands steady and reassuring, keeping me from the edge of destruction. He seemed like a storm of emotion, but his actions spoke of a calm, steady resolve.
Before I could speak or understand what was happening, he shouted, "We surrender!" The words hung in the air, and with swift, careful movements, he lifted me in his arms. I wanted to see Krythos's expression, to understand what had just happened, but before I could, the world faded to black.
When I woke up, I found myself in my bed, Zen's presence the first thing I noticed. He was sitting beside me, his fingers gently intertwined with mine. It seemed he had fallen asleep while keeping watch over me, his exhaustion evident in the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply.
His face, though calm, was more relaxed than I'd ever seen it before. The usual fire in his eyes was replaced with a peaceful serenity that told me he hadn't let go of me for even a moment. His grasp on my hand remained tight, as if afraid I might slip away from him, as though our connection was something he couldn't afford to lose.
I couldn't help but take in his features. His face was a masterpiece-sharp and finely sculpted, the high cheekbones catching the soft light that filtered through the window. They gave his face a refined, almost regal quality. His eyes, large and almond-shaped, were a deep, vibrant hue that sparkled with a quiet warmth and intelligence. Dark, thick eyebrows framed them perfectly, lending a bold intensity to his expression, though now it was softened by sleep.
His lips, soft and slightly parted, curved into the faintest smile, and his strong jawline, so well-defined, added an undeniable sense of masculinity to his otherwise delicate and youthful appearance. His dark hair, long and tousled, fell over his forehead in a slightly wavy texture, giving him a carefree charm that contrasted with the polished perfection of his face.
I felt the warmth of his hand in mine, the steady pulse of life between us. His presence brought a strange sense of comfort and safety, something I wasn't used to feeling in the desolate land of Mawt."How long will you admire me?"
His voice startled me, and I turned my gaze back to him. He had grabbed my hand with a firm yet gentle grip, his expression now slightly irritated. "Why didn't you forfeit?"
I hesitated for a moment, unsure how to respond. "I know I messed up," I admitted, feeling a weight of gratitude mixed with guilt. "I would've won, but he brought out a slave binder, which is not supposed to be used in the ring."
He scoffed, clearly frustrated. "Do you think anyone in the ring cares about what happens to the fighters? We're just entertainment for them," he said, his voice trembling slightly with concern. "You could have died, Luna."
The seriousness in his words struck me, and I couldn't find the right thing to say, so I simply muttered, "I'm sorry."I could feel the shift in his expression, the relief that washed over him. "Don't die before you surpass me, alright?" he added with a hint of anxiety, his brow furrowed as if he truly feared losing me.
I let out a soft laugh, trying to ease the tension. "I can do that anytime I want. I'm just letting you take pride in winning against me." I smiled, my playful nature returning.
He smirked, clearly amused, and gave a small chuckle. "Is that so? Think you can fight me now?"Without missing a beat, I responded with a silly grin, "Yes."His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, and he teased, "Come here, you little brat!" before launching a surprise tickling attack.
Laughter filled the air as I tried to wriggle away from his grasp, the tension from earlier melting into a playful exchange. At this moment, I found myself feeling something I hadn't experienced much in Mawt which was comfort.
It was the first time I had seen him lose his usual calm demeanor. He had always maintained that poker face, with a gentle smile that made it seem like he'd seen life more than anyone. But now, there was a flicker of something else-concern. It was subtle but undeniable.
"Where were you today?" I asked, unable to keep the curiosity from my voice. His response came quickly, almost too quick."Getting some tasks done."
"Really?" I pressed, already knowing the answer, feeling the weight of unspoken words between us."It was urgent," he said, but there was a hint of something more in his tone.
I could feel it. He was probably feeling homesick again. When we first came to Mawt, he had been more carefree, almost childish in his behavior. But after meeting Shara, the one who helped people uncover their past lives, he had changed. His demeanor softened, and became more gentle, as if he had found some sort of peace. Yet, there was always a part of him that felt like he was running from something, perhaps even from the memories of the life he had once lived.
"Rest more," he said gently, his eyes softening as they met mine. There was an underlying tenderness that I had come to cherish, even if I rarely showed it.
"Alright," I replied, the exhaustion finally taking its toll. I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of my body settling with a sharp jolt of pain. It was like my muscles were screaming in protest, every inch of me filled with a stinging, aching sensation. I winced, trying to hide my discomfort, but it was impossible. The pain rippled through my body, and for a moment, I allowed myself to just feel it, to be weak. The world around me seemed to blur, and I couldn't help but close my eyes, willing myself to drift into the embrace of sleep, even if it meant ignoring the agony for a little while longer.