Steven Miske's last conscious thought, as malice from an unknown dimension overwhelmed him, was of science's utter inadequacy against a cosmic horror.
Then, darkness.
Simultaneously, it felt as if the world itself cried out in agony.
The Sacred Cave of Kunlun shook violently.
Rock strata groaned, stalactites rained down, and pillars cracked.
Dust and a foul, sulfurous stench filled the air.
Panic erupted amongst the Wind Tribe.
Children wailed, women screamed, men shouted in terror.
Xuanyuan Hao, on watch, reacted instantly.
His "Lion-Tiger Soul-Quelling Roar" cut through the chaos: "SILENCE! ORDER! TO THE CENTRAL RISE! WOMEN AND CHILDREN INWARD, WARRIORS OUTWARD!"
His command brought a sliver of control.
He swiftly identified the epicenter: the mural grotto where Steven had vanished.
An elderly lore-keeper, trembling, pointed towards it. "The Pangu Divine Lock… that guards Kunlun's core… has it shattered?!"
Fresh horror rippled through the tribe. Xuanyuan Hao's heart seized.
The Pangu Divine Lock, sealing away ancient demons—if it failed, it was the end.
"Shi Yi! Congcong!" he barked to his swiftest scouts. "Protect the tribe's retreat! No one leaves without my command! The rest, arm yourselves! Follow me!"
Snatching his obsidian spear, he led a dozen elite warriors towards the grotto, a palpable aura of ultimate evil seeping from its direction.
The passage was treacherous, choked with dust and falling debris.
"Stay close! Wary!" Xuanyuan Hao urged, spear ready.
The closer they got, the more overpowering the stench of sulfur and decay became, a soul-deep chill washing over them.
Arriving at the ravaged mural grotto, even Xuanyuan Hao recoiled.
The sacred wall was rent open, a jagged chasm several zhang wide glowing an unnatural, dark crimson—a bleeding wound upon the earth.
Black, corrosive smoke coiled from it, withering all life it touched.
The temperature plummeted.
Foul, malevolent energy surged forth.
From the rift's writhing depths, monstrous energy tendrils, slick with vile purple ichor, wreathed in black flames, and covered in glowing suckers, extended like limbs of a primeval venom-dragon.
Thick as a man's thigh, they dripped corrosive slime and lashed out, shattering Kunlun rock with ease.
More tendrils, tipped with spurs or sucker-maws, erupted as the rift widened.
Near the chasm lay Steven, unconscious, his face a deathly pallor.
The crimson axe-mark on his forehead glowed with a demonic luster, resonating disturbingly with the abyss.
"What abomination is this?!" a warrior cried, his spear clattering as his legs buckled.
The others were ashen-faced, fighting not to look into the void.
Xuanyuan Hao felt a despair he'd never known. The entity's evil was otherworldly.
"Prepare for battle! Try… to stop it from emerging!"
With furious shouts, they hurled boulders and ironwood timbers at the rift.
The tendrils shattered or dissolved them contemptuously, the effort futile, only seeming to enrage the presence within.
The rift dilated faster.
Just then, rhythmic footsteps and a hoarse, sacred chant approached.
Nv Chou, the Wind Tribe's ancient Wu, supported by elders, arrived.
Her clouded eyes took in the rift, the tendrils, the sundered mural. Her face turned ashen.
"Heaven scarred, Earth bleeds… Kunlun weeps…" her voice, a tomb-wind. "The ancient taboo… broken…"
Forcing composure, she stumbled closer to the rift.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she began an exceedingly ancient, grief-filled chant, her voice seeming to commune with Kunlun's oldest spirits.
From a lightning-struck wooden box, she reverently drew mysterious colored cords—one black as void, one vibrant green, and most striking, a blood-red one tied with charred, divine-fire-touched feathers.
Her gnarled hands wove them with incredible dexterity, tying esoteric knots—the "Warning Sacred Knots," a perilous divination rite performed only in direst peril, burning life-force to seek a thread of survival.
The elders beside her, faces grim, swiftly took their sacred positions; one, chanting archaic words of power, laid out nine obsidian-black 'Nether Stones' in the pattern of the Dipper, their somber energy resonating with the trembling earth as they sought to channel Kunlun's fading strength to aid their Wu.
The air was thick with oppression and the solemn gravitas of mortals gambling against doom.
All eyes fixed on Nv Chou's weaving hands.
Other elders formed a power-field, one arranging nine "Mysterious Nether True Baleful Stones" in a Dipper pattern, chanting archaic words, resonating with Kunlun's ley lines.
The air thickened with oppression and the solemn gravitas of mortals gambling against doom.
All eyes fixed on Nv Chou's weaving hands.
The ritual reached its critical juncture.
Bloody sweat dripped from Nv Chou's brow. Her chant was almost a screech, each syllable torn from her burning life essence.
Mystical power converged, resonating with her and the knot.
The rift's malevolent surge momentarily faltered.
Nv Chou, pouring all her being into it, tried to weave the crimson lifeline cord into the ultimate "Nine Twists Soul Return Thread of Life" knot.
At that instant, disaster struck.
Steven's forehead axe-mark flashed with an intensely brilliant, paradoxical light—destruction and creation—seemingly activated by the rift's energy.
Simultaneously, the rift vomited forth malevolent power a hundred times more ferocious, a thousand times colder.
The two energies—one of creation's fire, one of eternal death—collided within the subtle field of Nv Chou's ritual.
"Not good!" cried an energy-sensitive elder, too late.
The crimson cord in Nv Chou's hands vibrated violently, then, with a heart-rending keen, it reached its limit.
"CRACK—!!!!"
The snap was sharp, loud, filled with ultimate despair, shattering the last hopes of the Wind Tribe.
"PFFT—!!!!"
Nv Chou arced forward, spewing scalding heart-blood, brilliant red yet ominously dark.
It splattered, congealing, some landing on the broken sacred knot, now a useless, tangled mess.
The severed crimson cord, its "Thread of Life" broken, bizarrely burned with faint, ghostly black fire.
All movement ceased in Nv Chou. The light in her eyes died. Her body fell limp.
"Wu!!!" The elders cried out, rushing to support her.
Her breath was a mere whisper, her clouded pupils reflecting the expanding rift and its writhing black-fire tendrils.
Xuanyuan Hao, momentarily freed from ensnaring tendrils, felt icy despair. He saw the spiritual pillar of his tribe fall.
But Nv Chou, with her last spark, slowly raised a withered finger, stained with heart-blood, towards the terrifying rift.
Her voice, hoarse and broken, carried soul-chilling clarity:
"Great… great calamity… It is… an overwhelming… disaster…"
Her gaze shifted to Xuanyuan Hao, bloodshot, filled with sorrow and a final, pleading hope.
"The Pangu Divine Lock… is loose… It… cannot protect us…"
"The Pangu Seal is loose!" The words struck like black lightning.
Apocalyptic doom filled their eyes.
Nv Chou gasped, "That… is… from beyond the Nine Nethers Chaos… a Rift Demon… It wants to… devour… all life… all light…"
Her eyes locked onto Xuanyuan Hao, stumbling towards her.
A final burst of light flared in her gaze. Her voice rose, urgent, a sacred entrustment:
"Only… only… 'Sui'… find… 'Sui'… He… is… the last… hope… Quickly… go find that… …person holding the fire in the mural… That crimson flame divine stone… in his hand… that is… the Source of the Kindling Fire… the power of the nascent sun… Go… go…"
Her voice died.
Her hand fell.
The light in her eyes extinguished.
Amidst the elders' desolate cries, Nv Chou departed forever.
Xuanyuan Hao reached her, grasping only a rapidly fading coldness, and an endless, crushing sorrow.
The old Wu, who had given her all for her tribe, was gone.