Resurgence

Blood pooled beneath them, painting the once-beautiful marble floor.

“What... what is this?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

He staggered toward a broken mirror leaning against the wall. When he saw his reflection, his breath caught in his throat.

The face staring back at him was not his own.

It was a young woman’s face, pale and weary, with dark eyes that shimmered with unspoken pain. Long, unkempt black hair framed her face, and her slender frame was wrapped in a tattered robe stained with dirt and blood.

Before he could process what he was seeing, a voice echoed in his mind.

“Why... why am I still here?”

Navrat jerked back, his eyes darting around the room. “Who said that? Show yourself!”

“I’m right here,” the voice replied, quiet and trembling. “Inside you.”

His stomach churned. “Inside me? What do you mean?”

“This is my body,” the voice said. “I was... I was supposed to die. But something happened, and now you’re here. And I’m... stuck.”

Navrat’s mind raced. He clenched his fists, trying to make sense of what was happening. He remembered the ring Nezu had given him before his death. He frantically searched the robe’s pockets, and his heart skipped a beat when his fingers closed around a familiar object.

The silver ring gleamed faintly in the moonlight.

“This is Nezu’s doing,” he muttered, his voice tinged with both relief and confusion.

“What?” the voice asked, her tone wary.

Navrat didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the ring, memories of his mentor flashing through his mind. Nezu had been his last hope—a brilliant mage who had promised to protect him, even in death.

“Nezu... he must have done something,” Navrat murmured. “He saved me by binding my soul to this body.”

The voice inside him fell silent, but he could feel the sorrow radiating from her.

“My name is Navrat,” he said finally. “Who are you?”

The voice hesitated. “Ruhi,” she replied softly. “My name is Ruhi. And this... this is my body.”

Navrat’s chest tightened. He didn’t have time for guilt or hesitation, but her pain was palpable, and it gnawed at him. He turned away from the mirror, clenching his jaw.

“I need to get out of here,” he said.

He stepped out into the moonlit streets, and his breath hitched at the sight before him. The city was in ruins. Buildings lay in smoldering heaps, their once-proud spires reduced to rubble. The streets were littered with corpses—men, women, and even children. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air.

“They killed everyone,” Ruhi’s voice whispered, her tone breaking.

Navrat scanned the area, his fists tightening. His instincts were screaming at him to leave, but he couldn’t ignore the anguish in her voice. He looked down and noticed her hands trembling—no, his hands trembling.

“Ruhi,” he said quietly, “I know this is hard, but you can’t let your emotions control me. If we’re going to survive, I need to stay focused.”

Her voice was barely audible. “I... I’ll try.”

Navrat’s eyes fell on a blacksmith’s shop across the street. He made his way inside, stepping

over the lifeless body of the blacksmith. He ignored the pang of guilt and picked up a sword. It was simple but sturdy, its blade slightly chipped from use.

“Not bad,” he muttered.

As he stepped back into the street, a sudden noise caught his attention. Two figures emerged from the shadows, their armor glinting in the moonlight. They carried swords stained with blood, and their eyes gleamed with malice.

“A survivor,” one of them sneered. “Kill her.”

Navrat barely had time to react before they charged at him. But his instincts took over, honed by years of battle. He sidestepped the first soldier’s attack and parried the second with his new sword.

A surge of purple energy crackled around him, and before he realized what was happening, he raised his free hand. A blast of raw magic

erupted from his palm, slamming into the soldiers and sending them flying. They hit the ground hard, their bodies motionless.

Ruhi’s voice trembled. “How... how did you do that?”

Navrat flexed his fingers, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

“It wasn’t much,” he said. “Just instinct.”

Ruhi’s voice was quiet. “Instinct? You killed them without hesitation...”

“They were enemies,” Navrat replied coldly. “I’ve been fighting people like them my entire life.”

Ruhi didn’t respond, but Navrat could feel her unease. He adjusted the sword on his back and started walking toward the city gates.

“Where’s the nearest town?” he asked.

Ruhi hesitated before answering. “There’s one about 25 kilometers north. But we’ll have to go through the forest to get there.”

Navrat nodded. “Good. Then let’s go.”

As they left the city, Navrat raised his hand and began to chant. A glowing purple summoning circle appeared in the air before him, its intricate symbols pulsing with energy.

“What are you doing?” Ruhi asked.

“Summoning,” Navrat replied. “I’m calling one of my loyal beasts.”

But just as the circle reached its peak, it flickered and disappeared, leaving only a faint trace of magic in the air.

Ruhi gasped. “You were trying to summon... and it almost worked?”

Navrat frowned, his frustration evident. “This body is too weak. I’ll have to make do for now.”

He tightened his grip on the sword and pressed onward, his eyes fixed on the dark forest in the distance. Somewhere out there were answers—answers about his resurrection, Nezu’s plans, and the Heaven Sky Sect.

He would find them. And he would make them pay.