Moonlight filtered through the shattered oculus of the sanctum's dome, casting fractured patterns over pools of stagnant Zen. At its center stood Veyrix the Bone Regent—cloak billowing, skull-mask gleaming with crimson runes. He held a slender bone rod tipped with jagged spines, each etched in necrotic glyphs. Across from him, Zhen Hu's chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. His robes were torn, flesh lacerated, but his eyes burned with steady violet light.
Veyrix's voice carried like distant thunder: "You wield Nytherion, Vessel of Death—yet you lack conviction. Show me your resolve."
Without hesitation, Zhen Hu advanced. He grounded himself, heart pounding in rhythm with his Cultivation Base. His first move was instinctual: Ghost Step. He dissolved into afterimages, closing the gap before Veyrix could react. The Regent barely turned in time to block the edge of Zhen Hu's blade-hand, bone spines scraping sparks of dark energy.
Veyrix spun the bone rod with a flick: a whisper of wind turned dagger-thin and shrieked through the air. Zhen Hu dove back, narrowly avoiding a blow that would have cleaved him in two. As he landed, he channeled Void Strike, thrusting his palm forward. A jagged dagger of coiling Nytherion shot out, and the Regent staggered—bone rod splintering under the impact.
Blood-smoke curled from Veyrix's mask as he snarled. He swept his arm in a broad arc, summoning a whirlwind of bone-shards that diced the floor around Zhen Hu's feet. The shards thundered into him, ripping through fabric and flesh. Zhen Hu gritted his teeth through the pain, summoning Fallen Sky: with two swift steps, he raised his arms overhead, and the air above him collapsed into a dome of violet-black light that crashed downward, vaporizing the bone-shards in a blast of scorching void energy.
The sanctum trembled under the shockwave. Zhen Hu staggered upright, blood trickling from his temple, his lungs burning. The Regent advanced through the dissipating mist, each step cracking the marble beneath with necrotic rot.
Veyrix hissed a single word in the ancient tongue, and spectral chains erupted from the walls, lashing toward Zhen Hu's limbs. Pain seared as they coiled around his wrists and ankles. He closed his eyes, drawing on Aelira's steady presence in his mind. With a guttural roar, he wove the first threads of Soulbinding—a filament of pale light sprang from his heart, severing the chains in a shower of cinders.
Free, he pivoted and thrust his palm into Veyrix's chest. The impact bloomed with Nytherion's raw hunger—dark frost blossomed across the Regent's robes, cracking bone beneath. Veyrix reeled but recovered, his mask cracking, revealing a flicker of ancient bone and void.
They stood mere paces apart, blood and decay mingling in the air. Veyrix's eyes gleamed with grudging respect. "Impressive, Vessel," he rasped. "But this is merely the opening gambit."
Zhen Hu forced himself to breathe evenly, pain and exhaustion pooling like molten lead in his limbs. He tightened his fists, violet ember glowing at his core. "I'm only beginning," he replied, voice low.
Above them, the rituals of the Humanios leader's final ceremony continued—its dark heartbeat looming as the next challenge. Zhen Hu lifted his chin, readying himself for what must come.
The first blow had been exchanged. Now, their true battle began.