Imprisoned soul

As Leia’s lightning-wreathed katana struck the stone coffin, a blinding white light engulfed the dark god’s tomb, transforming the chaotic battlefield into a realm of pure radiance.

Seconds later, the light faded, revealing a dust-choked space cleared of swirling sand.

Protected by her vines, Selina stood unscathed, her gaze fixed on the scattered remnants at her feet.

In the moment of the divine eruption, her natural magic had shielded her, but the vines had disintegrated into the sandstorm’s aftermath.

Is this the power of Seth, the God of Sand? Selina wondered, her eyes narrowing.

The towering stone coffin had vanished, replaced by a black hole suspended in midair, spewing cascades of yellow sand like a waterfall.

Leia, gripping her katana, stared solemnly at the phenomenon. Her strike had failed to halt the awakening of the god’s remnant power—a force still terrifyingly potent.

As the sand coalesced into a humanoid form, its crimson eyes opened, sending a chill through both girls, their heartbeats faltering under an ominous aura.

The sand figure’s crimson gaze locked onto Leia, its decayed essence spreading outward.

“After all these years, mortals still seek the relics of a fallen god…” Its hoarse, eerie voice echoed not from a mouth but directly in their minds, chilling their souls.

“Seth… you left behind a soul…” Leia’s expression grew complex, sensing the intense spiritual fluctuations.

The Sandman, wriggling sand, turned his head and looked at the lightning leaping along the katana in Leia’s hand.

When the deep purple lightning came into view, an absurd and eerie laugh echoed in its heart once again.

“Hehehe… I never expected it, I never expected that it would be you who dug up my tomb, Erebus.”

The moment the Sandman uttered that name the temperature in the air seemed to drop several degrees.

Her grip on her katana tightened, her knuckles whitening.

Selina’s eyes widened. So, I’ve stumbled upon a god who knows her.

Nerepose, the Goddess of Darkness and Death, was a deity whose followers bridged the underworld and reality, their practices shrouded in gloom.

Leia’s connection to her explained the divine aura Selina had sensed.

“You’re here for my legacy too, aren’t you, heir of Themis?” Seth’s dead eyes shifted to Selina, piercing through her disguise.

Her face betrayed no shock, though her heart raced.

Pretending before a god was foolish—divinity saw through mortal facades.

Themis had seen her true self instantly, and Seth, though fallen, retained enough divine essence to do the same.

“I’m not interested in your so-called legacy. I’m just passing through,” Selina said, spreading her hands helplessly.

Her presence was spurred by the crystal swords’ reaction, not greed for divine relics.

“Is that so…” Seth’s voice softened, the sandstorm waning as if her words had calmed its consciousness.

But the reprieve was brief. The sand coalesced into two massive palms, descending toward them.

“Then stay forever! Lackeys of the gods, your flesh will nourish me, your souls joining the eternal sands until I break this prison and consume this wretched world!”

The god’s roar merged with the howling wind. Leia’s blade flashed, arcs of lightning cleaving one palm in two.

She turned to aid Selina, but the second palm was faster, bearing down on her ally.

Before Leia could cry out, Selina calmly plucked a pendant from her necklace.

As the palm struck, no crushing sound or gore followed. Instead, the sand disintegrated, scattering like rain.

The sand, once controlled, broke into countless grains.

Selina stood unmoved, clutching a glowing gemstone dagger. Leia gasped, “A divine artifact?!”

In Selina’s vision, the falling sand was extraordinary—each grain encased in a faint blue flame, like souls crying for salvation.

The gemstone dagger in her hand blazed brighter.

Free the lost souls, though their bodies are dust and their minds trapped for millennia…

A gentle voice, warm as a mother’s touch, echoed in her mind.

Silver-white flames spread from her palm, enveloping her.

The giant sand palm disintegrated upon touching the fire, its blue flames consumed, fueling the silver blaze.

The more sand it touched, the stronger the fire grew, reducing the divine sand to mundane dust.

Seth’s consciousness, sensing its control slipping, roared in fury. “Samsara Fire! Deceitful elf, you serve two gods!”

The enraged voice shook the tomb, sand surging like a frenzied swarm toward Selina.

But her silver fire devoured every assault, growing fiercer. The trapped souls, upon touching the flames, merged into them, amplifying their intensity. Behind Selina, a shadowy figure emerged—cloaked in a heavy hood, holding a spiraling sun-lamp.

Its eyes locked onto Seth’s crimson gaze, like a starving wolf eyeing prey.

Leia lowered her katana, stunned. The power radiating from Selina and the figure—Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth and Samsara—was staggering.

Though forgotten by many in Seliris, those bound to darkness, like Nerepose’s followers, remembered the goddess who lit the continent, guiding souls to peace.

“Hestia, are you here to steal my remaining power?” Seth snarled, his sand sharpening into spikes, the storm intensifying. Yet Selina’s flames burned unyieldingly.

“Your remnants are no concern of mine, Seth. The souls you’ve bound deserve freedom,” Selina said, her voice layered with divine resonance.

Memories not her own flooded her mind—visions of another’s past.

“They’re my followers, my spoils! They chose to become sand, their souls eternal!” Seth retorted.

“Death extinguishes life, and souls belong to samsara. Forcing them to linger is torment, not eternity,” Hestia’s voice countered through Selina. Her silver fire clashed with Seth’s sandstorm, revealing glimpses of ancient history sealed in spatial rifts.

Above, the God of Space reigned, while below, Seth’s eternal sandstorm ravaged, turning vibrant lands into barren deserts. “Wind! Wind! Wind!” the storm howled, its crimson eyes dragging all life into desolation.

“This isn’t your domain, Seth. Return to the void,” the Space God warned.

But Seth’s sand devoured the spatial walls, craving the paradise beyond. His followers, once free, were consumed by despair, their souls bound to the sand, yearning to inflict their pain on the living.

The inevitable divine war erupted.

The Space God’s spear wounded Seth, banishing much of his sand.

Weakened, Seth crafted this tomb as a prison, sleeping in this isolated spatial island.

Hestia, pitying the trapped souls, severed the battlefield from Seliris, containing Seth’s spread.

“I seek only to free those souls,” Hestia declared.

“Free them, and you steal my power!” Seth sneered, his voice chilling mortal souls.

“Enough death has come from war. These souls deserve peace,” Hestia replied. Her silver flames grew, liberating more souls from the sand. They gathered around her lamp, her divine light enveloping the tomb.

Seth, whose power stemmed from binding souls, faced defeat against Hestia.

Though modern Seliris forgot her, the ancient souls remembered her oracles, their prayers fueling her.

Even as they faced dissolution, they sought her salvation, their faint faith empowering her.