The first light of dawn bled through the fractured dome, painting the plaza in muted grays and pale golds. Zhen Hu's robes were dust-dark and torn, his limbs heavy with every strike he'd just endured. Across the scattered stones, half the city lay in ruin—spires toppled, statues broken, streets slick with ash and blood.
Veyrix the Bone Regent rose unsteadily from the shattered altar, mask cracked, bone-rod splintered in his hand. He met Zhen Hu's gaze with hollow eyes.
"You have undone my ritual," Veyrix rasped. "But this ground… this city… it still bleeds its power."
Zhen Hu narrowed his eyes. "This ground bleeds death. I will draw it into me."
With no further warning, Veyrix slammed his rod to the earth. Cracks raced outward, skeletal roots of poisoned Zen erupting in a slow, writhing wave. Zhen Hu braced himself, letting the ember of Nytherion settle to a low pulse. He planted his feet and whispered the words of Fallen Sky, hands tracing the familiar arc. The air above him collapsed into violet-black light, and when it fell, the creeping roots turned to brittle ash.
Before the ash settled, Veyrix lunged. Zhen Hu met him with Ghost Step, slipping behind the Regent and driving his palm into the back of the bone-rod. Wood-white splinters cracked under the force. Veyrix snarled, turning to catch Zhen Hu's incoming Void Strike against his ribs. The blow bore him into a broken fountain; water and ichor mingled at his feet.
He rose slowly, each breath a testament to his resolve. Veyrix advanced through the pool of his own corrupted Zen.
"They built these streets on the bones of the forsaken," Veyrix said, voice rough as mortar. "Their decay called to me."
Zhen Hu's gaze drifted to the ruined cityscape. He knelt, touching the fountain's cracked lip. "Now that decay will answer me." He pressed both hands to the stone, closing his eyes. The ember in his core flared steady, and he drew the poison from the fountain's water, Nytherion weaving it into the lattice of Soulbinding.
Veyrix halted. "You would absorb it all?"
Zhen Hu rose, energy coalescing in his palms. "Every last fragment." He released the weave in a gentle pulse that rippled through the plaza, drawing ash, blood, and corrupted Zen into himself. The air grew still.
Veyrix's chest heaved. He lifted a trembling hand, but his strength faltered. Zhen Hu advanced, each step quiet on stone. When he reached the Regent, he spoke softly, "Rest now."
With a final exhale, Veyrix's rod fell away. His eyes closed.
Zhen Hu stood alone among the ruin. Aelira's presence curled around him in a soft glow.
He exhaled, the echo of decay fading within him. No fanfare marked his victory—only the sound of the city settling into silence.
Zhen Hu turned toward the broken streets, the weight of collected ruin already a subtle warmth in his veins. He walked on, each step carrying him further from destruction and closer to the promise of what lay beyond.