Steeling her resolve, Mira directed her Nascent Soul to begin its familiar cycle of relentless excavation.
'Get back to work!' Mira commanded, circulating more Qi to her soul.
It begrudgingly ascended the icy mountain, wielding the scythe, unable to resist.
As the Nascent Soul began its diligent work once more, the weight of her task seemed to press down on Mira.
Her body tensed, anticipating the expected yet increased intensity of the pain that was to come. And just like she predicted, as the first slash of the scythe descended onto the darkness, a wave of torment coursed through her, causing her teeth to grind together.
The tempest within her soul realm mutated further. The Wind Cyclone started swirling in multiple directions, resulting in more collisions and clashes.
From the center of the cyclone, faint rays of light began to emanate, beaming on the Nascent Soul like a spotlight.
