Near the northern mountains ruled by the Centaur Kingdom, a large tribe of Sand People had settled among the dunes.
Unlike the wandering groups that crossed the desert searching for food and water, this tribe had existed for generations.
Stone walls surrounded the settlement.
Watchtowers overlooked the surrounding sands.
Deep wells provided precious water.
Nearly ten thousand Sand People called the tribe home.
Children slept peacefully inside tents.
Hunters rested after returning from patrol.
Warriors sharpened weapons beneath torchlight.
None of them knew that war had already arrived.
Above the desert, dark clouds concealed the moon.
The night became unnaturally dark.
Far away from the tribe, thousands of figures silently moved through the dunes.
Centaurs.
An army.
Not hundreds.
Thousands.
Moonlight occasionally reflected from armour and spearheads.
Bows rested in practiced hands.
The entire force moved with disciplined precision.
At the front of the army stood General Aragon.
His upper body was broad and muscular.
Scars crossed his chest.
His lower body resembled a massive warhorse bred for battle.
His eyes remained fixed upon the distant lights of the Sand People settlement.
The Centaur Kingdom possessed confidence in victory.
In direct battle, the Sand People tribes rarely stood as equals.
Their warriors fought fiercely.
Their numbers could become overwhelming.
But discipline won wars.
Organisation won wars.
Preparation won wars.
The Centaur Court understood this better than anyone.
This campaign was not merely a raid.
It was conquest.
The southern lands would belong to the Centaurs.
To achieve that goal, losses had to remain low.
If thousands died during the first battle, fear would spread throughout the kingdom.
Families would oppose the campaign.
Young warriors would avoid enlistment.
Support for expansion would weaken.
The first battle needed to become a symbol.
A victory so overwhelming that no one could question the war.
General Aragon stepped forward.
The entire army became silent.
Slowly he raised his bow toward the sky.
Without a word, thousands of centaurs copied the motion.
Bows rose.
Strings tightened.
Then blue light appeared.
The arrowheads began glowing.
One arrow.
Ten arrows.
A hundred arrows.
Thousands.
The darkness itself turned blue.
General Aragon spoke a single word.
"Release."
Twang!
Thousands of bowstrings snapped simultaneously.
The sound rolled across the desert like thunder.
The sky filled with blue streaks.
For a brief moment it resembled a meteor shower.
Beautiful.
Deadly.
The arrows began descending.
Inside the Sand People settlement, guards stared upward in confusion.
None of them understood what they were seeing.
Then instinct overcame confusion.
The warning horns sounded.
The deep notes echoed throughout the tribe.
Hunters woke instantly.
Warriors grabbed weapons.
Children cried out in confusion.
The entire settlement erupted into chaos.
Then a roar shook the desert.
From deep within the tribe, a massive figure emerged.
The tribe's Totem.
A gigantic blue-scaled lizard.
The creature raised its head toward the heavens.
Then flames erupted from its mouth.
A river of fire crossed the sky.
The flames collided with the descending arrows.
Explosions erupted immediately.
The fire damaged dozens of arrows.
The damaged arrows exploded prematurely.
The explosions triggered nearby arrows.
Then nearby arrows triggered more.
The sky itself seemed to ignite.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The shockwaves flattened tents.
Sand erupted into the air.
Then the surviving arrows reached the ground.
The tribe disappeared beneath explosions.
Screams filled the night.
Fire spread through the camp.
Warriors died before reaching their weapons.
Children disappeared beneath collapsing structures.
Above everything echoed the enraged roar of the blue-scaled lizard.
General Aragon showed no mercy.
He raised his hand once more.
"Second volley."
Again the bows rose.
Again blue light gathered.
Again thousands of arrows filled the heavens.
The Sand People had no time to recover.
The second barrage descended.
The tribe exploded for a second time.
This time the screams became louder.
The fires became larger.
The chaos became complete.
The Sand People understood the truth.
If they remained inside the settlement—
They would die.
Warriors gathered quickly.
Hunters joined them.
Those capable of fighting rushed toward the northern edge of the tribe.
Then they charged.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
A wave of warriors crossed the sands.
Behind them came the blue-scaled lizard.
The Totem itself entered battle.
Halfway through the charge, something changed.
The warriors ripped away their clothing.
Their bodies transformed.
Faces elongated into reptilian muzzles.
Scales spread across skin.
Their bodies grew larger.
Muscles expanded.
Spines curved forward.
Claws lengthened into weapons.
The Sand People became something closer to beasts than humans.
Their true forms.
Their war forms.
General Aragon calmly placed his bow upon his back.
Then he grasped the lance hanging beside him.
His voice echoed through the army.
"Lances."
The first rows immediately changed weapons.
Bows disappeared.
Lances appeared.
Then the second rows changed.
Then the third.
The transformation spread through the army like waves.
Soon thousands of lances pointed toward the enemy.
General Aragon raised his weapon toward the sky.
Blue light gathered around the lance.
The surrounding soldiers watched silently.
Then the General lowered the weapon toward the enemy.
"Charge."
The word spread unnaturally far.
As though carried by the wind itself.
As though magic itself carried the command.
Then Aragon moved.
The army followed.
Thousands of hooves struck the earth simultaneously.
The desert shook.
Blue light erupted around the charging centaurs.
The energy expanded outward.
Soon a massive cone of blue energy surrounded the entire formation.
The charge accelerated.
The distance vanished.
Then the two armies collided.
The world exploded.
Centaurs fell beneath claws.
Sand People flew backwards; all, the enraged roar of the blue-scaled lizard echoed with shattered bones.
Lances pierced bodies.
Claws ripped flesh.
Blood covered the dunes.
The momentum of the charge crushed everything before it.
Many centaurs lost footing.
Others rolled across the sand.
But for every fallen centaur, several Sand People died.
The battlefield transformed into slaughter.
Then the blue-scaled lizard arrived.
The gigantic creature crashed into the battlefield like an avalanche.
One swipe sent warriors flying.
Another crushed several centaurs beneath its claws.
Its tail swept across the battlefield.
Bodies exploded.
General Aragon's eyes narrowed.
Finally.
The true enemy appeared.
Without slowing, he lowered his lance.
Blue energy gathered around the tip.
The distance disappeared.
The lance struck the lizard's front leg.
Boom!
The impact shattered scales.
The gigantic creature screamed.
Its claws descended toward Aragon.
The General leapt backwardss.
His four legs carried him away from the attack effortlessly.
The claw struck empty sand.
Then blue light gathered within Aragon's free hand.
The surrounding air distorted.
Inside the light appeared a blurry figure.
A serpent.
An enormous serpent formed entirely from blue energy.
The illusion opened its jaws.
General Aragon thrust his hand forward.
The serpent lunged.
Far away, beneath another region of the desert, Kaelan remained completely unaware of the war.
His attention remained focused elsewhere.
Traits.
Inside his Soul Space floated dozens of them.
Vitality.
Sharpness.
Strength.
Endurance.
Many possessed similarities.
Many repeated themselves.
Kaelan studied them carefully.
Then a thought occurred to him.
Could similar traits combine?
The possibility immediately interested him.
Among all the traits he possessed, Sharpness appeared most frequently.
Many ferocious beasts possessed claws.
Teeth.
Horns.
Natural weapons.
Naturally, Sharpness became common.
Kaelan gathered four Sharpness traits together.
Then he forced them toward one another.
The result surprised him.
The traits merged.
Compressed.
Changed.
A new trait appeared.
The spiritual energy surrounding the new trait had evolved.
Strengthened.
Darkened.
Immediately, Kaelan felt something else.
Corruption.
The evolved spiritual energy attempted to influence his thoughts.
Hatred.
Violence.
Bloodlust.
The effects struck his mind.
Then vanished.
To Kaelan, the corruption felt insignificant.
Like the buzzing of an insect.
Like a mosquito near his ear.
Annoying.
Nothing more.
Only then did he realise something.
The original traits contained corruption as well.
The corruption simply proved too weak to notice.
Kaelan observed the newly evolved trait for a long time.
Then he made a decision.
The original traits would become White Traits.
The evolved traits would become Black Traits.
Simple.
Clear.
Accurate.
The realisation excited him.
Traits were not merely powers.
They were fragments.
Fragments of fragments of laws.
If enough traits merged—
Perhaps a Law Fragment would appear.
Perhaps an entire Law.
The implications were enormous.
Four White Traits produced one Black Trait.
Unfortunately, Kaelan possessed no additional Sharpness traits.
Further evolution would need to wait.
Still, another question remained.
Could different traits combine?
Could Vitality merge with Sharpness?
Could Strength merge with Endurance?
Could entirely new powers emerge?
The possibility fascinated him.
Immediately, Kaelan began experimenting.
Far above him, kingdoms marched toward war.
Civilisations prepared for extinction.
The desert itself burned.
Yet beneath the sands, a trapped Void Monster calmly conducted research that might eventually reshape the cultivation systems of entire worlds.