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THE SOULWEAVING ROOTS
Author: X34L
last update2025-12-28 20:30:25

“First Form—Soulweaving Roots!” Intan roared, her palm slamming against the cracked cobblestones with enough force to send shockwaves rippling through the earth. Green light exploded from her touch, and thick, glowing tendrils burst forth like living lightning, snaking across the ground toward her foes.

Across the battlefield, Rukma focused her will, sending her double-bladed spirit weapon spinning through the air in a deadly arc toward Nyai Sarpakenaka. The hound-faced sorceress danced aside with inhuman grace, her dark robes billowing like storm clouds as she prepared her counterattack.

The five humanoid shape-shifters advancing on Intan were no ordinary beasts—they were Nyai Sarpakenaka’s most prized guardians, known throughout the shadow realms as the Hellhounds. Towering over eight feet tall, their bodies were wreathed in an unnatural heat that made the air shimmer around them. Even the lightest scratch from their claws or bite from their fangs co
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  • THE SOULWEAVING ROOTS

    “First Form—Soulweaving Roots!” Intan roared, her palm slamming against the cracked cobblestones with enough force to send shockwaves rippling through the earth. Green light exploded from her touch, and thick, glowing tendrils burst forth like living lightning, snaking across the ground toward her foes. Across the battlefield, Rukma focused her will, sending her double-bladed spirit weapon spinning through the air in a deadly arc toward Nyai Sarpakenaka. The hound-faced sorceress danced aside with inhuman grace, her dark robes billowing like storm clouds as she prepared her counterattack. The five humanoid shape-shifters advancing on Intan were no ordinary beasts—they were Nyai Sarpakenaka’s most prized guardians, known throughout the shadow realms as the Hellhounds. Towering over eight feet tall, their bodies were wreathed in an unnatural heat that made the air shimmer around them. Even the lightest scratch from their claws or bite from their fangs co

  • Nyai Sarpakenaka

    From within the swirling mists that clung to the cobblestone streets like ghostly fingers, a colossal foot emerged—heavy enough to crack the earth beneath its weight. Arga stood poised with blade drawn, his muscles coiled like steel springs as he fixed his gaze on the titanic figure taking shape before him. The beast was a giant ape, its fur matted with filth and ancient blood, its eyes burning with a savage intelligence that spoke of dark magic.“Far too large for any ordinary creature…” Lesmana murmured under his breath, watching from where he lay pressed against a crumbling wall. His arm hung limp at his side, black veins creeping up from his wrist—a clear sign of the venom coursing through his veins after a brush with one of the shape-shifters that plagued the city.As the ape roared and beat its chest, shaking dust from the surrounding buildings, a knight in polished silver armor pushed through the fog and hurried toward them. His cloak bore the sigil of the Golden Step—an order

  • The Twin Shadow Technique

    The Frost Demon, still unaccustomed to wielding Arga’s form, barely evaded the roaring tempest of the Azure Gale Incantation. Waves of brilliant blue energy crashed through the surrounding forest, shattering ancient trees into splintered ruin and tearing deep gouges into the earth below.“His original vessel is formidable beyond measure…” the Frost Demon mused in silent awe, feeling the raw resilience coursing through the mortal flesh it inhabited.Meanwhile, in the depths of his subconscious realm, Arga drifted amid a swirling tapestry of ethereal auras—each shimmering with distinct hues and power that pulsed like living things. “The Golden-Tusked Demon,” he thought, recalling the ancient sage’s words, “its essence is said to burn with the light of pure gold. That must be the one.”Guided by instinct and purpose, he glided toward a radiant sphere of golden light that hung like a miniature sun in the vast darkness. “This power lies untamed, unrefined. I need only draw it into myself t

  • THE BLUE-FANGED TIGER SHIFTER

    The instant the young man’s figure cut through the chaos to stand beside the fairy knights, a thunderous roar of determination erupted from their ranks. Weary muscles tensed with new life, and they charged back into the fray, their blades gleaming against the ice-cold sky.Arga moved like a flash of winter lightning—each step silent, each strike precise. The sword in his hand sang a deadly hymn, its edge so sharp that the shifters could find no gap to dodge, no chance to twist away. With effortless grace, he thrust through scales and sinew, slashed through fur and bone, leaving a trail of fallen foes in his wake. When his Demon Sphere Technique crashed into the horde, the explosion sent shards of ice and dark magic scattering—and in the blink of an eye, Arga was there, cutting down every shifter frozen solid by the blast before they could draw another breath.Intan and Rukma raced across the frozen battlefield to reach a knight who lay broken and bloodied. His right leg was severed at

  • The Assault

    Ten Fae knights stood firm at the village gate, their steel armor gleaming like frozen stars against the inky black of night. Before them, a tide of shape-shifters rolled forth from the mist-shrouded woods—hundreds strong, their eyes burning with predatory hunger, their claws and fangs glinting in the faint light of distant moonbeams. The air itself crackled with tension, thick with the acrid scent of beast and magic alike.“For decades, we have never seen the shape-shifters march in such numbers,” said their leader, his voice low and gravelly as he gripped the hilt of his sword. His name was Lesmana, and every scar across his weathered face told a story of battles fought and won in defense of his people.“Captain Lesmana,” one of the younger knights spoke up, his voice tight with apprehension. “Can we truly stand against hundreds of these creatures? Our strength has its limits.”Lesmana turned to face his subordinate, his gaze hard as iron yet tempered with compassion. “I cannot prom

  • The Fae Village

    Intan and Rukma now wore the garments they had long coveted—flowing robes woven from threads that shimmered like dragonfly wings in the fading light, adorned with intricate patterns of silver filigree that caught every stray beam of dusk. Arga had insisted they choose the finest pieces the shop had to offer, refusing to settle for anything less than what he deemed worthy of their company. For himself, he selected a deep crimson tunic tailored to his broad frame, its fabric lightweight yet durable, embroidered along the collar and cuffs with golden runes that hummed with latent power. The ancient Fae shopkeeper, once so sharp and sneering, now could do little more than offer tight-lipped smiles and silent prayers that the formidable trio would depart without further incident.“Your lordship, my ladies,” the old merchant said, his voice trembling slightly as he glanced toward the darkening streets outside. “Night is falling fast upon us. I plan to close my shop at once—for when darkness

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