Ashes Of The First Tyrant

The Hall of Heroes breathed silence.

Built into the heart of the mountain, it stood like a sanctum untouched by time, its cold stone walls echoing with whispers of past titans. Twelve towering statues lined either side of the corridor, each carved from black obsidian and gilded with faint traces of aura residue that shimmered in low light. Nine bore golden plaques. Three stood blank waiting.

Thalen stepped forward slowly, his boots clicking softly on the polished floor. Every footfall felt sacrilegious.

"These are the Nine," Velis said behind him, his voice quiet but steady. "Living wielders of the Tyrant Spirit."

Thalen’s eyes swept across them. Each statue bore the likeness of its respective legend: warriors, sages, assassins, commanders. One statue loomed with a heavy shield and hammer, its massive form scarred with old aura burns; another stood cloaked in flowing robes, eyes closed, hands held in a silent prayer.

But one held his gaze longer than the rest.

She stood with twin curved blades on her back, her sculpted form caught mid-step, cloak caught in an unseen wind. Her plaque read:

Veyra — The Wind of Severance.

Thalen’s throat tightened.

"She trained in Blade Aura," Velis offered, stepping beside him. "Fastest swordswoman ever recorded. It’s said she once severed a warship in half before anyone noticed she moved."

"What happened to her?" Thalen asked.