THE LAST KEEPER

Chapter 340: 340. FORGOTTEN DANCE

”Very well.” The markings along his skin stirred. He pushed the hood of his cloak back and looked at the raised platform for a long moment before continuing.

”Since the South has chosen war with me...” The ground beneath Zaira cracked. ”...then I will show no mercy.” The last words echoed across the square, and for the first time that day, fear truly appeared on the faces of the council.

At those words, Sagiri slowly opened his hand. Darkness gathered above his palm. The space around his palm seemed to fold inward before Nokai emerged with a metallic whisper that carried across the silent square.

The black blade settled into his grasp as always. Only this time, the blade’s aura had changed. It was not only deadly, but it also carried an ancient touch to it. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, another change swept over him. The markings crawling across his skin brightened and spread, flowing from his neck along his jaw and across the backs of his hands like living rivers of ink.

He seemed to glow atop the beast so hard that everyone gathered could see him clear as day, and they held their breath.

None of them had seen such an occurrence. Perhaps many had heard about the N’folu, but none had ever seen one before. They had never even seen a person with such a beast. It is a creature of myth, and apart from its parents, who were kept by koru and died in prison, many had never seen such a beast.

His crimson eyes seemed to burn brighter. Even the air around him distorted faintly, rippling with the pressure pouring from his body. In his place stood something sharper. More dangerous. The wind gathered around him, snapping his cloak violently behind his back while Nokai’s dark edge reflected the torchlight in crimson flashes. Below, warriors unconsciously tightened their grip on their weapons. None of the council members was sitting now.

Nobody doubted it now. If Sagiri chose violence, the city would bleed before the night was over.

Sagiri raised Nokai and pointed it toward the council platform. His crimson eyes swept across the assembled chiefs before he spoke. ”Before I kill you I I will remind you.” His voice echoed across the square. ”I will show you the Desert Dance of my forefathers, since the South has forgotten. I am never late to die, and I will not let you die before you see with your own eyes why your meaningless lives have to come to an end.

Before anyone could react, he stepped forward and vanished from Zaira’s head. The stone beneath the beast exploded as Sagiri launched himself into the air. At the same moment, Zaira moved.

The colossal serpent surged upward after him with a roar that shook the city. Higher and higher they climbed above the execution grounds. Sagiri remained suspended in the darkening sky, cloak whipping wildly around him, while Zaira circled him in enormous spirals. The beast moved faster with each revolution, its colossal body carving through the clouds like a living storm. Black scales flashed between streaks of crimson light from its eyes.

Wind began to gather around them. Dust rose from the streets below. Banners snapped violently. The entire city watched as man and beast climbed into the sky together, one standing motionless at the center while the other coiled around him like a dragon guarding an ancient king.

”Big brother is so awesome!” Azir marvelled. He was probably the only person who was not scared of dying, apart from Sagiri’s squad.

Then the desert answered immediately. At first, it was only a distant rumble beyond the canyon walls. A sound so deep that many mistook it for thunder. Then the horizon shifted. Vast streams of sand rose into the air from the endless desert surrounding Thazir city, lifting as though drawn by an invisible hand.

The city watched in stunned silence as golden rivers spiraled toward the sky from every direction. They crossed the canyon walls, swept over fortifications, and poured into the skies above the city. The wind became a roar.

Dust filled the air.

Zaira continued its violent dance around Sagiri while the gathering sand joined the motion, weaving itself between the serpent’s coils in enormous spirals. One became ten. Ten became hundreds. Soon, a colossal vortex stretched above Thazir, connecting the city and desert in a single swirling pillar. Sagiri stood at its center, cloak snapping behind him, Nokai held loosely at his side as though commanding the storm required no effort at all.

The sands moved with purpose. Ancient patterns formed and vanished within the vortex. Chiefs saw forgotten symbols from old histories. Elders saw memories of battles long buried by time. Higher and higher the storm climbed until it blotted out the stars themselves. The desert had not merely answered to him, but it had joined the dance. Sagiri remained suspended in the air with hands wide open.

Suddenly and finally, he moved.

With more than the rigid precision of a swordsman or the practiced forms of a warrior. With the fluid grace of a dancer answering an ancient rhythm. One step carried him through the air. Then another. His body curved and sprang in graceful yet beautiful movements.

Nokai followed the motion as though it were an extension of his body. The blade cut through the swirling sands, leaving black trails that lingered long after the strike had passed.

The dance began slowly. Almost gently. Every movement seemed effortless, every turn flowing naturally into the next. Then the tempo changed. Sagiri spun like a whirlwind in the air so fast he was a blur. Nokai split in his hand and rose into the air. One blade became two. With more twirling, two became four. Four became eight. The blades joined the storm, moving within the desert’s currents as though they had become part of the dance itself.

Sagiri never stopped once the dance began. He stepped through empty air, turned in movements only he understood, and swept Nokai in a wide arc, his hands wide as if he was holding everything in place while still dancing perfectly.

His eyes were closed as he sank deeper and deeper into the ancient dance.

More blades appeared in dozens, then hundreds. The storm responded. The desert roared louder. Zaira’s enormous form coiled through the vortex while black blades flashed between the serpent’s movements like fragments of a shattered night sky.

Faster.

The dance grew faster.

Every motion carried intent and deep emotion that all who watched were suddenly gripped with sadness and sorrow. Every turn released another wave of blades. Hundreds became thousands. Thousands became a glittering sea of black steel suspended within the sandstorm. The sky above Thazir disappeared beneath them. Yet despite the violence gathering around him, there was something beautiful about it.

The blades moved with purpose, not chaos. They followed the rhythm of the dance. The rhythm of the desert. Ancient, relentless, and powerful. Watching it felt like standing before a force of nature given human form. A storm that had learned to dance. And at its center, surrounded by countless blades and swirling sands, Sagiri moved with the calm certainty of a man performing a dance deep from his heart.

The dance went on and on and on and then...

It can come to an abrupt end.