The air in the Nether crackled with an energy that was both ancient and malevolent. Jagged obsidian peaks clawed at a perpetually twilight sky, where veins of crimson pulsed like a dying heart. This was a realm of echoes and dust, a place where forgotten things festered. It was here, amidst the skeletal remains of colossal beasts, that mirikiji found himself. He moved with a practiced silence, his metallic armor scuffed and worn, the silver filigree on his gauntlets gleaming faintly in the dim light. His quarry was a creature of nightmare, a being twisted by the Nether's corrupting influence: an Abyssal Wolf.
He'd been tracking it for three hours, After finding out that a nether beast wolf was slowly approaching he was tracking it so as to avoid the beast , According to legends nether beasts where once guardian Spirit of the physical world but after death a noble spirit fueled by immense hatred and grudges somehow finds it way here and becomes a nether beast. Hatrd dragged it here, binding it to the Nether's will, turning it into a slavering engine of destruction. It was mirikiji wish that whoever was entering this world was educated enough to know how to hide from a vengeful spirit such as this one . He crested a ridge of shattered rock and finally saw it.
The Abyssal Wolf was larger than any wolf had a right to be, its form a shifting mass of shadow and bone. Its fur was the color of a starless night, and its eyes burned with the same darkness that pulsed in the sky. It was currently circling something, or rather, someone.
A woman stood in a small clearing, a silver spear held in a two-handed grip. She was a stark contrast to the oppressive gloom of the Nether. Her hair was the color of silver cascading down her back in a wild braid. Her armor was light, almost ethereal, shimmering with a soft, internal luminescence. She moved with a dancer's grace, her feet barely seeming to touch the cracked ground as she parried the wolf's lunges.
Mirikiji watched for a moment, assessing. The woman was skilled, incredibly so. Her spear was a blur of motion, deflecting snapping jaws and claws that could shear through steel. But she was on the defensive, and against a creature like the Abyssal Wolf, that was a losing battle. Its corrupting aura was a weapon in itself, sapping strength and will with every passing second. He could see the strain on her face, the slight tremor in her arms.
He hesitated because he knew he had no way in his current state of power and fatigue could he beat such a beast but ultimately had to intervene because she might have useful information, deciding to put his life on the line. Drawing the worn out blade from his back, etched with runes that hummed with contained power, he slid down the scree-covered slope. He landed silently, a phantom in the shadows, and then burst into the clearing.
"Need a hand?" he called out, his voice cutting through the snarling of the beast.
The woman's eyes, the color of a winter sky, flickered towards him for a fraction of a second. There was no surprise, only a sharp, calculating assessment. "If you can keep up," she retorted, her voice clear and steady despite her exertion.
The Abyssal Wolf, enraged by the new arrival, let out a howl that was not sound but a physical force, a wave of despair that washed over them. Mirikiji gritted his teeth, the runes on his blades flaring to life, pushing back against the psychic assault.
"It bleeds shadow," the woman said, sidestepping a lunge that left deep gouges in the rock where she'd stood. "Physical wounds close too quickly."
"Then we'll give it wounds it can't close," Mirikiji replied, a grim smile touching his lips. He channeled his energy, the silver filigree on his gauntlets glowing brighter. "I'll draw its focus. When you see an opening, strike for the core."
He didn't wait for an answer. He charged, his blades a whirlwind of silver light. He was faster than the woman, more aggressive. He didn't just parry; he attacked, forcing the wolf back, his enchanted blades leaving trails of silver fire where they connected with its shadowy hide. The wounds sizzled and smoked, healing far slower than the gashes from the spear.
The wolf, unused to such a direct assault, turned its full fury on him. It was like fighting a storm. Claws of pure darkness tore at him, and jaws snapped inches from his face. He ducked and weaved, a dance of life and death on the razor's edge. He could feel the Nether's corruption seeping into him, a cold dread that tried to find purchase in his soul. But he had faced worse.
He saw his opening. Feinting a high strike with his right blade, he dropped low and swept his left, severing the tendons on the wolf's foreleg. The beast roared in pain and fury, stumbling.
"Now!" Mirikiji yelled.
The woman moved like a bolt of lightning. Her form blurred, and the air seemed to hum around her. Her silver spear was no longer just a weapon; it was a conduit of pure, untainted light. She didn't aim for the head or the heart. She plunged the spear deep into the wolf's chest, where the shadows were darkest, where the corruption was most concentrated.
There was no sound, but the world went white. A wave of purifying energy erupted from the spear, incinerating the darkness from within. The Abyssal Wolf's form dissolved, its shadowy hide turning to dust, its burning eyes fading to embers. In a matter of seconds, all that remained was a fine gray ash that scattered on the Nether's ever-present wind.
Silence descended upon the clearing, broken only by their ragged breaths. Kaelen straightened up, the glow from his blades fading. The woman leaned on her spear, her shoulders slumping slightly.
"You fight well," she said, her gaze meeting his. The suspicion was gone, replaced by a grudging respect. "For a mortal."
Mirikiji raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"
A faint, sad smile touched her lips. "Not anymore. My name is Lucia"
"Mirikiji," he replied, sheathing his blades. "It seems we had a common enemy."
"The Nether is full of them," Lucia said, her eyes scanning the desolate landscape. "But that one... that one was different. It was a wound in the fabric of this place, a festering corruption that needed to be cleansed."
"My thoughts exactly," Mirikiji said. He looked at her, at the faint light that seemed to emanate from her, a beacon in this oppressive darkness. "What brings a being like you to a place like this?"
Lucia gaze turned distant, her expression hardening slightly. "The same thing that brings most of us here," she said softly. Evolution. And you, Mirikiji, what is your excuse?"
Mirikiji looked out at the jagged peaks and the bleeding sky. "Survival," he said, his voice quiet. "Putting old ghosts to rest."
They stood in silence for a moment, two solitary figures in a world of endings. The Abyssal Wolf was gone, but the Nether remained, its malevolent energy a constant, pressing weight. They were strangers, from different worlds, different lives. But in that moment, bound by the battle they had shared, they were allies. And in a place like the Nether, that was a rare and precious thing.