Chapter Title: The Cross on the Cliff
The sky above the Moon was still, vacant of motion, sound, or life. Yet as the twin SUHA jets descended from Earth's atmosphere and broke through lunar orbit, a silent dread hung in the air. Inside the aircraft, Sir Varion and Sir Drondaya remained quiet, their expressions hard, their instincts heavy with the pull of something tragic.
They touched down on the charred and fractured remains of the SUHA Moon Base or what was left of it.
Smoke rose in faint plumes from what used to be a command outpost. Giant cracks had split the Moon's crust where Shen energy had detonated. Craters within craters marred the battlefield. And just ahead, silhouetted against a towering cliff wall, was something far worse.
There, nailed high upon a jagged wooden cross planted against the lunar cliff, hung the body of Alexander the Great.
His arms stretched wide. His armor shredded. His face pale, lifeless, and scarred.
Varion stared upward, the windless silence roaring in his ears. Slowly, he stepped out of the aircraft, his boots crunching against fine red dust and shattered stone. His eyes narrowed.
"It was them," he muttered. "The Ten have been here."
Drondaya followed close behind, his tone grim.
"But for someone like Alexander to fall… it had to be one of the ancients. Maybe… Julius?"
Varion shook his head but offered no words. He leapt into the air, his body vanishing in a single blur, and reappeared moments later beside the cross. Carefully, reverently, he removed the shattered nails, dislodging the broken warrior from the wood. He cradled the body in his arms, holding the limp weight of a king who once held the stars in his grasp.
"You didn't deserve this," Varion whispered.
Within the hour, both knights departed the Moon base in silence. Alexander's body lay preserved in the ship's inner chamber. His death, and the destruction of the Moon base, would not be broadcast. The Sovereign Union issued a sealed directive—no press, no public reports. The world wasn't ready to know that Alexander great had fallen.
Later That Evening — Greenland
In the tranquil northern river valley just outside SUHA's capital stronghold, Sakamoto, Asger, and Madagascar sat near a rushing stream. The waters were cold, clear, and oblivious to the chaos that had shaken the world just days ago.
Madagascar crouched by the river's edge, scooping water in his palm.
"Funny how this place feels untouched," he murmured.
Asger, seated beside him, glanced sideways.
"I meant to ask… the name 'Kenzo.' I saw it carved into a stone at the SUHA burial ground. Is that someone related to you?"
Madagascar paused.
"Yeah… it's tattooed on my right hand, see?"
He rolled up his sleeve to reveal the faint ink aged, cracked, worn by time.
"But truth be told, it's just a family legend. Everyone avoids the subject. I've asked believe me but anytime I do, it gets swept away like dust. No answers. Just silence."
Asger nodded.
"Sometimes… silence hides pain."
The conversation faded. A few feet away, Sakamoto stood alone, staring at the sky. His expression was distant, unreadable. The waters moved, the wind whispered through trees but his thoughts were far beyond the physical.
None of them knew what he was thinking.
Elsewhere — A Frozen Island
At the edge of the world, surrounded by towering glaciers and black, frozen peaks, a terrible stillness reigned.
Here, upon a cursed island locked in eternal winter, Lord Arcade, Huey the Second, and the ancient warlord Julius stood over a vast, unmoving ice lake. The skies were grey. No sun dared shine.
Lord Arcade levitated slowly down the hillside, his crimson cloak trailing smoke across the snow. He touched down gently beside the lake.
Huey and Julius followed, landing just behind him.
"I am going to resurrect an army," Lord Arcade said, his voice low and commanding. "An army of the dead, an Army of Ice Walkers."
Huey tilted his head.
"How? What power allows you this?"
Arcade raised his hand. Red mist coiled around his fingers.
"The power I absorbed from Kenzo Madagascar. His Red Ice technique lives within me now though a little portion and it cannot be compared to that of his. With it, I shall raise the Red Walkers—a legion of supernatural, extinct humanoid ice beings. The world will crumble beneath them."
Julius remained silent, his eyes burning with cruel curiosity.
Arcade took one step forward, then another, until he stood at the edge of the lake. He raised his hand.
From his palm, a red icy vapor seeped into the air like a living fog. It swirled into a spiral, taking form, solidifying into a single shard of red ice—razor-sharp, glowing like a cursed gem.
The shard floated upward, then descended slowly into the lake.
The instant it touched the surface the entire lake turned red.
Cracks exploded across the frozen surface. The ice screamed as if alive. Veins of glowing crimson snaked through the frozen waters.
Then—
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM.
One by one, they rose.
Figures of twisted bone and armor, encrusted with frost and blood the Red Walkers. Their eyes glowed with soulless hunger. Some were tall as giants. Others scuttled with unnatural limbs. And yet, all of them radiated with the red Shen of ancient death.
2,000 strong, the dead had awakened.
Arcade smiled with pride.
"Let them marinate. Their time will come soon."
Huey stood in awe. Julius nodded grimly.
A swirling portal appeared behind them, carved from frost and fire. Without a word, all three stepped through vanishing from the frozen island and returning to the shadows.
End of Chapter