"Liam… you uncivilized baboon."
Crouched before the bodies of two unconscious children, a chocolate-haired gentleman slowly rose, fixing his glasses that had come loose due to the sheer force of his Lord's attack.
"This is excessive, no matter how you look at it."
To speak in such negative, almost derogative manner, against a high noble— a Ducal Heir of all people— one must be an ignorant countryside bumpkin or a fearless moron to be able to pull off such stupidity. That alone is an act meriting immediate execution…
Well, heavens be damned for Rein could care less about such BS.
"B-B-But, you agreed to it as well, did you not!?" Liam argued his case, dragging Rein to the mud with him to somehow deflect the blame.
"I-I'm not the only one at fault here!"
"I agreed to your idea of subduing the dryads through incapacitation… not to blasting them so hard with magic that they collapse and sustain permanent injuries!" Rein scolded him as though Liam were nothing but a clueless child.
"Didn't Lord Lux warn you many times not to go overboard!?"
Rein is a strategist— logical, methodical. Liam's impulsiveness had always been a constant source of irritation and near heart failures ever since they were children— primarily because it is he who gets dumped with the troublesome aftermath.
Even more frustrating because he is usually right.
"I… I got a bit heated because you were so serious and tense. I didn't forget the plan, I swear…" Liam responded weakly, his voice trailing off in a whisper— an attempt to excuse his overzealousness.
"I planned to keep it minimal, but the script… It just kinda went… y'know… Boom! by itself."
"Don't give me that crap! Things don't just spontaneously combust out of nowhere! Ugh…!"
Rein pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, exasperated sigh as he tried to regain his broken composure.
"Well, what's done is done." He shifted gears.
"No use dwelling on it now. As planned, I will hide them somewhere safe, so you may go ahead and assist the others—"
They moved swiftly, relocating to a designated space outside the barrier.
Then, just as they were about to reach their post, the unconscious girls nestled in their arms groaned, stirring with an unsettling tremor. Their bodies shuddered violently. Mana flaring in uneven spikes. Their chests clenched, convulsing as though something… was attempting to escape from within their flesh.
"They're awake!?" Rein exclaimed, eyes widened in panic.
"No! This is…" Liam interjected.
His eyes rested fixedly on the girl's condition, studying every unconscious motion. He gently ran his fingers through the hair of the dryad of sound— faint glimmer trailing his grasp.
It was shortening, its diluted hue gaining a semblance of vibrancy.
"Already…? Isn't this too soon…?"
Their gazes shot northward.
To the skies, where a thick curtain of frozen smoke billowed ominously across the horizon, accompanied by thunderous explosions and searing howls that rattled the very air like a cacophony of an impending calamity.
"Lux…"
+
"HAHHH!!!"
A fierce war cry erupted amidst the ruined landscape, its echoes barely fading before shockwaves swept through the remnants, reducing all it touches into dust at the same instant. With one thunderous blow after another, the silver-haired saint drove her fist into the earth, trailing the afterimages of her elusive opponent.
She moved like a haze— a force of nature that melting into the air, blitzing from one point to the next in a relentless pursuit of the girl who danced through the battlefield with unfathomable grace by exploiting the smallest gaps in her stance.
"Check."
A soft voice, uttered in a calm whisper, came to the fleeing girl's as her back met an unexpected obstruction.
"[Switch]."
Silk's quiet declaration activated the spell, and within a snap, the twins swapped positions.
Where Gill had stood a moment ago, there was now Silk, her staff sparking like a bomb on fractured fuse, overflowing with concentrated mana. And where the touch of the mage had grazed the girl's senses— exchanged for the sharp pang of a dagger digging through veins and tissues in her shoulder.
It dislodged her arm from her collar bone, shattering tendons and marrows with a sickening crunch, almost severing it entirely had the strike was placed a few inches higher.
"Gill! Fall back!"
"Ngh!?"
Instinctively, Gill reacted to her sister's warning, twisting away just as the razor-sharp claws ran past her abdomen in a blur dangerously close for comfort. A violent gust followed its trajectory, dragging her with it as it tore through her uniform as though its reinforced garment was no thicker than mere paper.
Had her reflexes been even a fraction of a second slower, it wouldn't have been fabric, but her intestines, dangling between the girl's fingers.
"Why, you—!!!"
Gill's eyes briefly flashed an unbroken light before plunging straight into retaliation. She unleashed an endless barrage of slashes and kicks, each strike carried by its predecessor's momentum.
One continuous, haphazard dance.
Her combat style embodies the unpredictable. A distinct fusion of martial arts and rogue tactics— dictated by neither, adhering to both.
Explosive.
Unorthodox.
A form of her own creation.
A unique art of warfare tailored specifically to match her natural gifts.
Among warriors she'd met, only three had conclusively bested her in close quarter combat. Haf— and his endless reservoir of warmongering experience. The Duke himself— who boasted an impenetrable defense. And her brother, Lux— with his maddening versatility, ingenuity, and impeccable foresight.
If she was unorthodox, then Lux was the unknown.
And yet… this girl.
Without magic or any sort of physical enhancements, she was keeping up— no, she was matching her move for move with extreme precision. Almost as if she's reading an open book.
"I don't like this." Gill got the shivers.
"It's like I'm dancing right as she wants it… She's giving me that same creepy feeling I get in my stomach whenever I'm sparring with Lux."
"Silk! Change of plans!" Gill said over the blinking orb in her collar.
"Let's swap roles! I don't like her!"
"Haa!? Don't be ridiculous!" Silk complained loudly, almost tripping in her motion.
She already had enough on her plate— annoyed, seeing her spamming of lightning strikes all but barely missed the target. And now, Gill was spouting selfish tantrums.
"There's no way I'd be able to perform any better than you! I can't handle being the vanguard against someone you're struggling with!"
Whether it be due to her wariness not to accidentally hit Gill, or merely the sheer prowess of the dryad, neither her attacks nor her twin's had managed to land with any meaningful impact. No matter how quick, or how many traps they lay, the dryad always had an answer. Somehow, she finds a way to evade their assault.
The single instance they managed to connect, they failed to follow through and capitalize on the opportunity. Now, it's back to square one again.
"Silk! My time limit is almost up!"
"What!? Didn't you say you can maintain that state for half an hour!?"
"Lux said I can! I also did! But the barrier is draining my mana faster than I anticipated!" Gill remarked, tone a bit shaky.
"…And I may or may not have gotten a little carried away, and added more enchantments than I could handle… just one extra, teehee~!"
"That's why you're running short!" Silk snapped, close to firing a lightning bolt on Gill.
"IDIOT!!!"
"I know! I KNOW! I'M SORRY!!!"
Despite their frantic bickering, neither had missed their rhythm. Gill's earth-shattering strikes left the girl with no choice but to remain defensive, while Silk's unrelenting AoE bombardment covered for her twin's shortcomings, sealing any openings for a counterattack.
They had yet to deal a decisive blow, but it would be untrue to claim that they were losing either.
"Hello!? Anytime now!?"
"…mm."
"Silk!? I said I'm sorry already! Please don't ignore me! My arms are already turning jelly!"
Still, Silk remained unresponsive.
Her gaze, ever-studious and observant, never parted from the dryad, tracking her every movement with meticulous detail.
Masterful— That was the only word she could think of to describe her. The girl was fast— yes. But by no means was she significantly quicker than both of them. By raw attributes alone— it wasn't worth a comparison… not even to her earlier movements.
There was a change.
"Big sister! Help me!" Gill's voice cracked with desperation, actual tears forming in her eyes.
"BIG SISTER!!!!!!"
"Ahhh~! JEEZ!!! Calling me that only at times like this…!" Begrudgingly, Silk conceded.
"Hand me the daggers!"
Granted the affirmation, Gill's frown immediately shifted into a smirk. With a mighty full-throttled straight, she struck the ground as hard as she could, sending tremors rippling outward, igniting a chain of collapse.
The impact left a massive crater, separating her from the dryad— an opening just wide enough for a seamless transition.
"Here, catch!!!"
Gill hurled her twin daggers into the air before clasping her hands together, her widening grin— the last remnants of her fading form.
"[Switch]."
Their perspectives flipped once more.
Before Gill, hovered Silk's staff, levitating like a heavenly relic, primed with predefined scripts.
{Author's Note: Gill can't cast Silk's magic.}
She watched as spheres of transparent blue surrounded her sister's figure, emanating a dim pulsating glimmer as they descended to her summons, fluttering like ethereal wings, coating her delicate form in celestial radiance.
It feels weird for her to say this about someone who shares the same face, but for that fleeting moment, Gill couldn't help but think to herself— She's very beautiful.
"…I can't let myself be outdone."
She quickly shook off the sentiment, a shiver running down her spine.
Snatching the staff from midair, she poured her own mana into it. The reddish hue of her skin faded, the influence of her layered enchantments dissipating, and in its place, a pure white veil of untainted light energy. The sapphire orb capping the staff darkened, its vibrant color shifting from deep azure to a brilliant gold.
"Two minutes. That's all I have." Silk declared, her voice steady— resolute.
"Finish it by then."
Silk effortlessly caught the daggers, perching perfectly nestled in her outstretched hands where flames of silver dust eagerly awaited their hilts. She spun them once, drenching the blades in fire. It screamed, it soared— the edges roared, reforged under the guidance of constellations.
What emerged from the embers was no longer steel, but twin swords of pure white.
Void of impurity— A star in gilded form.
"That's too much time." Gill grinned, confidence oozing in her tone.
"One. That's all I need."
Silk paused, glancing over her shoulders. Her judgmental eyes glared at her sister with a strict coldness beneath her sweet face.
"…really?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Gill shrieks an answer, frightened of her sister's tone.
"I'm positive this time!"
"Positive, huh… How untrustworthy. I have heard that once tonight already, and look what happened." Silk's tone was laced with skepticism, her gaze scrutinizing.
"Aren't you just trying to sound cool?"
"You… think it sounds cool?" Gill muttered with anticipation, her eyes glittery.
"…"
This is the second time.
"Hey! Don't just go silent on me like that! You're scaring me!"
Silk's lips curled into a smile— one that carried no warmth, yet somehow felt incredibly incinerating. Contrary to her daggers, which gleamed brilliantly, her eyes…
"Oh, you should be."
"…eh?" Gill's heart stopped.
"What… does that—"
Before Gill could finish, her attention was swept with Silk's, their eyes gravitating towards the battered maiden in front of them.
Her left arm, profusely bleeding, barely clinging to her shoulder— limp, unresponsive, decaying. The right one, on the other hand (pun intended), was just there. Unharmed, yet unmoving— frozen still like the rest of her body… And though slight, her tense posture… loosened.
"She hasn't attacked." Silk noted.
"No, she hasn't." Gill echoed.
"We've been standing here, running our mouths, and she hasn't so much as twitched. This would've been the perfect opening to strike, but instead… she's just waiting."
A smile transformed their lips.
"He did it." Their thoughts coiled in unison.
The lightened tone of her skin, the loosening of her shackles, and the now fragmented nature of that, once unbroken, aura— affirmed the completion of the second objective of this mission.
"Gill."
"Yes. I know."
Stood across them was no longer a threat to be disposed of, but a damsel in distress.
"Shall we wrap this up, Ms. Dryad?"
Leaving this final remark, Silk stepped into the darkness, fading into the fog— any traces of her presence vanishing from her senses.
"Oh, Quagmire of the annual carnival. May the audience cheer your tricks and mockery. Feast upon laughter. Drown upon resent. Make it yours— reality is to your image." Gill stirred, raising the staff to the heavens.
"Unfold— [Phantasm of the 6th Clown]."
Lost— the dryad scoured her surroundings.
Externally, it appeared as though she is merely immobile— petrified, uninterested even. However, to an experienced foe— two, who has years of experience training with an indecipherable aberration far beyond this level of mystique, her countless [eyes] were nothing but apparent.
Its intense gaze threatened to bore craters through anything it sets its sight on— fierce and probing, peeling the facades of those they touch.
And as of this moment, their sight— fixated on the illuminated visage of the silver girl.
"Just for a bit longer… please endure it."
Wielding the cherished staff of her sister, Gill launched a storm of flaming arrows. Embers tainted the night sky, its searing trail amplifying those to follow— uniform, yet discordant. Unbothered by any obstacles it goes through as it heads straight at its target— the dryad's neck.
Even then, not a single one had managed to even graze her skin. But neither was it intended to.
Its relentless motion set the tune, and the dryad danced right in its rhythm. It guided her— presenting no other option but to retreat backwards, precisely on a spot where yet another spell was set.
Turbulent gusts of wind culminated onto one violent whirlwind. It erupted beneath the dryad's feet like a bursting geyser, launching her skyward where she spiraled— lost in momentum, helpless against the unbalanced force. She fell, straight towards Gill, who stood waiting with a loving grin, and yet another batch of crimson spires she, rather disturbingly, gleefully shot at her.
Stripped of her footing, the dryad's uncanny agility was rendered irrelevant. She was trapped midair with no terrain left to exploit.
A rabbit is only as swift as its surroundings forgives it to be. And currently, she's cornered.
Her only option— to drown, engulfed by flames.
[So… be it.]
The Guardian of [Sense]'s sole functioning arm reeled back, and much to Gill's surprise— she dove headfirst into the sea of fire.
The flames devoured what remained of her tattered clothes. The scorching embers ravaged her skin, tearing through flesh, searing the very marrow of her bones. The bloodstained arrows carved holes through her legs and abdomen, set her ablaze, spreading the gnawing heat all throughout her being.
And yet, despite these grievous wounds, she plunged downward, accelerating even faster, aiming straight for the caster's heart.
Shattered scripts splintered like fragments of strained glass, the flames disintegrated into its purest form soon after the command was broken.
The dryad's claw met magic, pressing against the sapphire gemstone— the catalyst of Gill's sorcery. The second daughter of the Dukedom lay beneath her, gasping in choked heaves, fragile arms trembling as she struggled to hold back the razor-sharp nails from piercing her chest.
"Per animas eorum vaga, aqua aeterna quae Cosmos sustentas. Indignos obsecra. Constellationes relaxa et te purifica."
Her staff, snapped in two, was all that stood between her and certain death.
"And this…" Gill spoke.
However, it was not the [Gill] currently pinned on the ground.
"—is checkmate."
The dryad's breath strangled. An urge of danger crept into her body, screaming for her to run— but before she could react, an encompassing warmth coiled around her nape.
And as it did, the world shattered.
Reality unraveled before her unseen eyes, crumbling as it erased the blinding clouds— the malformed hallucinations obstructing her existence. Strength was drained from her limbs like a leaking pipe. Colors bled back to her world.
The weight of ethereal chains— ones whose suffocating grasp had bound her soul for decades on end— Gone.
"You're free now." A joyous voice whispered.
The silver-haired girl beneath her shifted— her hair turning from porcelain to gold, the shattered staff in her hands into stark white daggers. The wounds she had been inflicted— vanished, leaving not a single scar, as if they had never been.
For the first time, the dryad felt something she had long forgotten.
"Purga impuritates, vitium umbrosum supera."
A single tear slipped from her uncovered eye as darkness claimed her for the final time.
"[Eridanus]."
+
"Cross them!"
"Yes, Sir!"
While the Heir and his loyal chamberlain dominated their foes, as the twins waged war against the mightiest of the five, another battle, equally fierce, raged elsewhere.
Two warriors stood against a pair of dryads— one gifted with perfect sight, the other wielded a voice that her sisters lacked.
At first, the fight seemed balanced, reaching an even stalemate. The impeccable execution of the tanks, combined with the mages' efficient ranged support, managed to hold the dryads at bay, matching their relentless assaults with quantity and strategy.
However, as time goes on, the true disparity between them became evident.
The dryads' speed, superior magic, and adaptability made for a nightmarish match-up against knights trained to bring down hulking beasts and thousand fodders. Their constantly shifting— unpredictable movements defied the rigid tactics of armored warfare, forcing Hoft and Hilden onto the defensive.
Both men possessed formidable strength, remarkable by human standards; however, they lacked the means to counter such elusive foes in a direct confrontation. So, they compensated, aiming not to overwhelm them with strength, but outmaneuver their skills with wits— Each taking turns acting as a decoy for the other to seek that opening to attack.
Though more often than not, it was Hilden who played the role.
They are yet to deal a significant strike, but at the very least, their heads were still attached to their shoulders… For now.
"Sword of the Bull, 2nd form. [Ogre's Cleave]!"
With a battle cry that severed the equilibrium, Hoft hoisted his blade high above his shoulder. It gleamed beneath the moonlit skies, edge shrieking in foreboding menace. His muscles, gripping with graceful brutality, pulsed as he prepared to strike. With both hands, he brought it down in a devastating arc, carrying with it a force that could mince boulders like onions. The sheer pressure of the cleave sent tremors through the very air, whipping like god's dismissive snap.
However, it fell short of reaching its target.
Meeting its edge was a wall of crystalline lattice, the clash ringing a deafening crack. Ice exploded at the point of contact— a shield conjured by the dryads, unflinching even against his strongest.
An act that occurred multiple times already.
"They still refuse to separate, huh…" He lightheartedly muttered, totally unfazed.
[Savor] and [Sight]— the twin dryads were essentially conjoined, hands permanently interlocked since before the battle even started.
Their fighting style— unique and oddly elegant, moving in such a way that it resembled a graceful dance. Their coordination was uncanny, surpassing the level of understanding and stepping through the realm of spiritual alignment. Each step, each motion— fluid, flawless, tuned in a shared rhythm.
They move not as two, but as a single entity with the strength of both.
"How about this then!" Hoft declared as he crouched, heels digging against the dirt.
His large blade, arched way back behind his spine, his body twisted in an angle that should've been impossible for someone of his frame.
"Sword of the Goat, 5th form. [Four-fold Pincer]!"
He brandished the sword like a battering ram against the castle gates, his sword unleashed in a mirage of heavy talons— at such speed that it appeared to approach them simultaneously. Three. Four. Six. Eight. Sixteen blades manifested, raining from every direction, each crushing with equally devastating intensity.
This was the way of the Cunning Dictator.
{Author's Note: This technique utilizes Feints— only one out of sixteen is real.}
Recognizing the lethal beat of his motion, the dryads pressed their bodies closer and raised their hands in unison. Freezing glaciers blossomed from their foothold, guided by their fingers as it swirled around their figures like a cyclone before crystallizing into a protective cocoon with jagged protrusions, primed to impale incoming threats.
"Fragile! Too fragile, young ladies!" The captain proclaimed, his grin ever-widening as his blade shattered the barrier in one clean stroke.
However, this, too, was expected by the dryads.
Beyond the dissipating wall of ice, their free hands rose to point towards Hoft. Long, tapered icicles of condensed frost emerged from their palms— an ambush from point-blank range.
Then… Hoft grinned.
"Get 'em, kid."
From behind the captain's colossal silhouette, a shadow leapt into action. Using Hoft's armored back as a springboard, Hilden soared across the battlefield, instantly eliminating any distance between them. His arms were poised like a cross. His right hand, tucked horizontally from his chest, held his gleaming sword, while in the other, rests the dark scabbard of the Dukedom's knights high above his head.
"Sword of the Twins, 3rd form. [Cross strike]!!!"
He vanished.
And in the next instant, he reappeared before the dryads, cleaving through the frosted air like an ethereal surgeon slicing through projectiles in a blur of motion, too swift for the naked eye to follow. Before they could react— ice turned to shattered snowflakes, icicles to dust, their defense to an open invitation.
Then, like a striking predator, he brought the scabbard down in a precise angle, aimed not to deal damage, but split their intertwined fingers, forcibly severing their connection.
"EARTH WALL!!!" Hoft commanded.
The mage unit— patiently awaiting the signal within their enclosed formation— stirred at once, unleashing an all-out assault directed to enlarge the narrow rift between the two maidens.
"FIRE!!!" The soldiers rallied.
A titanic slab of earth erupted from the ground, separating the battlefield into two.
The Obsidian Knights followed suit, dividing their forces— one faction rushed to aid their captain, while the rest moved to flank the other dryad. Arrows rained down from the heavens, their shaft trailed by flames that scattered their embers everywhere. Steel clashed with claws, each strike roared so intensely that it carved wounds upon the war-torn land.
The dryads' razor-sharp talons and the unwavering blades of the Dukedom— a battle of raw ferocity against disciplined might.
[Sister…] A ghostly voice uttered.
[Where… are you? Don't leave me… alone…]
It wept. It was faint and haunting— reverberating in clear, shrilling intensity within Hilden's ears.
She is… crying?
He turned. He focused his senses. He searched for answers, and at the end— he found her.
The girl in front of him— frail and untamed— erratically wielding her ice magic, practically, allowing her magic to explode in bursts of uncontrolled frenzy. Her movement grew more sluggish by the second, inconsistent, unlike before. Her flailing stance was a far cry from their impenetrable defense— crumbling, shivering, collapsing like a warrior who lost their touch.
Then, he finally realized.
She's impaired visually.
The only one who is truly blind.
Hearing, smell, senses— though imperfect, one could utilize those traits to acquire a general perception over their surroundings.
Her gift, however— heightened vocals— cannot function like that. It doesn't grant her the privilege to comprehend the world's subtle whispers. Isolated. Encased in her own little purgatory.
That's why they were paired together.
…That's why the young master—
[I'm scared… I'm scared… I'm scared…]
Lost in thought, Hilden failed to notice the surging mana accumulating at the girl's lips.
["I hate… EVERYTHING!!!]
The dryad screamed… at least, that's what her open mouth indicated.
However, instead of a deafening shriek, an unnatural silence blanketed the battlefield. Time seemed to halt as an eerie, suffocating void rippled through the very air, devouring yet ethereal, as though sound itself was diminished.
That was until…
"ARRRGGGHHHHH!!!"
Agonized cries tore through the stillness like wailing claws unveiling the bloodied curtains. Knights— his mighty comrades— one after another, collapsed on their knees like helpless cattle, clutching their heads as if their skulls were being pried open.
Even the mages, disciplined in the restrictions of arcane arts, were not immune. One screamed until his throat tore itself. Another had her eardrums explode to splinters. Some retched onto the bloodstained ground, drowning in blood and vomit. Others fell unconscious where they stood like marble statues.
And the rest— barely holding on, resisting the temptation to embrace its grasp.
"What is happen—"
Hilden's chest was suddenly seized in a suffocating haze. His vision danced. His breathing, fractured in heavy gasps. Pressure, unbearable as it was widespread, tugged on his veins like a parasite gnawing his very soul at every whittled beat. His ears screamed, humming in a cacophony of excruciating agony— like nails scraping across a thousand blackboards, twisted and amplified by the shrieks of dying banshees.
This is no mere attack.
This is torture.
Hilden gritted his teeth. He planted his sword, firm onto the ground, anchoring himself against the consuming spectre sapping his strength— for if he fell, he knew he wouldn't get back up.
Every second drained him further— Inexplicably short, each one representing prolonged suffering. His flesh has already failed. His mind was screaming for release. His body threatened to collapse… but still, he refused.
Not now…
Not yet.
No… I can't… I can't fall… just yet!
Through the blurred perception of his vision, he saw her. The dryad— no, a lone child— cradling herself, hunched within her shadows, weeping as she calls for her family. Her hands trembled against her throat, fingers coiled around her neck— strangling her own breath.
From the darkness that was her parted lips, shards of white began to materialize.
Snow… Ice… Blizzard.
Fragments of the frost— swirling, growing, compressing into a sphere of concentrated destruction. Larger. Faster. Denser… until recognition caught up to Hilden's mind.
That thing resembled the blast the divine beast had struck them earlier.
That's… bad news… I need to… protect my—
As it stood, his compatriots were down— compromised, lay strewn across this battlefield. While those who remained conscious had neither the clarity nor the ability to act. Their reliable captain was elsewhere— locked in an intense battle with the other dryad. The Heir, the director, the young mistresses had their own battles.
And the young master… occupied by the beast.
No… Not a chance in hell…!
I'm not dying… Not after I finally found him!
Hilden willed his body into motion, steeled not through rationale, but mere instinct— forcing himself into his broken stance.
His knees caved in, trembling like a newborn calf. His arms, scorched with searing pain that desperately dragged him towards the ground, were barely able to grip his sword upright. His eardrums were ruptured, bleeding like a flooding river. His vision faded in and out of focus, hazy as it would be under a blizzard— impaired and falsely refracting its message.
By all stretch of logical algorithm, he should not be standing— he should no be breathing. And yet, his feet remained planted, defiant of the fated odds.
A true warrior.
"Sword… of the Ram… 1st form…"
He watched closely, sharpening his senses to its very limits, scraping everything that was left off the barrel of his half-conscious state. As the dryad's attack reached its peak, the swirling mass of frozen inferno left her bluish lips, streaking toward him like a meteor of imminent death.
"[LAST DROP]!!!"
He thrust his sword forward, catching its core with the tip of his blade dead-on. A thunderous impact erupted upon collision, sending waves of fragmented frost screaming outwards its range.
His counter had halted its momentum for an instance. However, the sheer force unleashed by a blast of this caliber was enough to overcome his resistance. Hilden's bones shattered under its overwhelming might. His arm twisted in unnatural angles, splintered bones protrude out of his flesh. His body sprayed in a veil of blood as shards of ice bombarded his body like a hailstorm of knives.
Fortunately, the obsidian shell— his Lord's blessing— protected him. With this vessel, he could endure any—
Crack.
—Came the sound he dreaded most.
A possibility he hesitantly considered.
Fissures spread like spider webs across his shadowed exoskeleton, black smoke seeped from the fractures like a fountain of erupting geysers. Chunks of it crumbled away, dissolving into the wind— starting from his limbs, crawling to his torso, and now… his head.
A sign that his benevolence had a limit.
Am I… going to die?
Shadowed clouds began to creep in his periphery. The temptation of the lulling embrace of a peaceful slumber becomes more and more enticing. His body, having turned numb a long while ago, was reaching— no, have already expended its final burst.
His will… Well, that doesn't matter now—
"HILDEN!!!"
A voice, muffled by the clotting blood in his ears. He heard someone call his name.
In the corner of his lazily peeking eyes— bloodied and fractured— was the figure of a girl adorned with bloodshot pupils, dashing straight for him.
The familiar of [Sight].
I see… She must've come to finish him off.
"WAKE UP!"
Behind her, trailing her shadow, there was someone… something else.
Massive. Imposing. Scary, honestly… What is… that thing? A new breed of mutated bear? Or was that an albino Ogre? With an… axe— What in the world is that hellspawn? But, that face… somewhat familiar… It was cleaved in half…? Huh…? Is that an undead?
What an ugly face…
"I ORDER YOU TO STAND YOUR GROUND! HILDEN KRAUS!!!"
Hoft Dass— Captain of the Zancrest knights, declared to his people.
Oh… It's just… captain…
"GET UP, SOLDIERS! You lot really letting the new guy hog the spotlight while you play dead in the dirt!?
His voice— intimidating, rash, and somehow enlightening— thundered across the land, echoing louder than the incessant ringing in their ears. Reaching not their minds, but the depths of their War-forged hearts.
"I DON'T REMEMBER HAVING SPINELESS COWARDS ON MY TEAM!!!"
Their conviction.
Their unbreakable oath.
Their undeniable pride as the strongest Knights Order in all of Besiegen!!!
Their reason to fight…
and a future where they thrive.
The soldiers grinned. They laughed. They crawled. They grovelled. They scraped the ground like unkillable pests. They clung desperately on rocks, leaned on their spears, trampled on everything in their way, exerting their battered bodies to its absolute boundaries… all in order to once more— stand and fight.
"FIREEEEEEE!!!" The Oxen vanguards roared.
They valiantly fought.
Orbs of fire whisked chaos upon the freezing stream, while the abyssal shields of the tanks encroached their unyielding defense.
Sightless. Deafened. Others, limp and downright disabled. It didn't matter for they are each other's lifelines. They had comrades to guide their hands, trust to steady their aims. They had orders to follow and a family to protect.
The weight of one propelled the other. Weakness complemented by the other's strengths.
A Zancrest knight is a wolf— rabid and relentless.
It does not fight for dominion, nor does it retreat in the face of greater beasts it provoked. It sinks its teeth in its throat and does not let go— fighting until the very last breath. It hunts not for glory, but for itself and the survival of its pack.
The title— [Undying Soldiers of the Zancrest] was an esteemed moniker never born in the image of their unparalleled might, but from their unbreakable spirit.
The inextinguishable flame within them burned just as fiercely on death's doorsteps as it did in Eden's heavenly utopia.
"Stop hesitating, greenhorn!"
A hand grasped Hilden's back— silver and fluffy. Then another, and another after that. Hands of differing variants grabbed Hilden— rough with scars, tough with experience, yet each bearing the same fire. His comrades. His seniors. The veterans he aspired to emulate… His brothers and sisters.
And now, they lent him their strength.
They raised their swords at once. His stance. His mana. His power became theirs, and their strength became his.
A united soul stood as many, embodied by one. This is what it meant to be a knight of this domain.
"NOW!!!"
Their blades plunged into the dragon's throat. Resist, it did— but the soldiers' unrelenting, almost maniacal, resolve forced it into submission. Their defiance pierced the shell of its hardened snout, past the ravenous winds of the raging tundra within. It thrashed, it roared, it struggled, but they prevailed.
They slayed the beast, splitting the curse it spat…
However… underneath that frozen crust, there exists another lie.
As they cleaved the blast akin to what the young lord did with the Divine Beast's assault— that vital moment when their swords touched its very essence… something felt off.
The sphere did not shatter into mist and ice like before, and instead, it collapsed inward— coalescing into a singular point.
It imploded.
Its detonation was cataclysmic. Flames, frost, steel, and flesh— everything within its immediate radius was mercilessly swallowed in a whirlpool of certain death.
Hilden should have perished.
He should've been caught in it, faced the verdict of doom alongside his brothers.
But in the final second— he was pulled behind.
No… Run…! You're going to… die…!
His vision faded. And in his final semblance of consciousness, he caught a sight of his comrades— Lunatics bearing intoxicated grins in the face of the reaper. The dark shine of their obsidian armors gleamed its last as they bashed their bodies to shelter him from the blast.
"You did well, my soldiers."
In a snap, the cerulean burst of destruction was devoured by a sizzling coat of red and gold— the searing emblem belonging to the princely Heir.
The haunting frostbites that degraded their limbs evaporated in a heartbeat as though it was simply blown like a candle on a cake. In its place, blossomed the scorching cinders of the Lotus' resilience, sealing their wounds shut.
Their absolute commander had arrived.
Descending from the heavens, radiating an aura of utter domination as though he were the incarnate of the sun itself, Liam and Rein confidently perched amidst the battlefield, their presence unmistakable— undeniable.
Undefiable.
In their arms, nestled snugly, they carried gently the dryads of [Sound] and [Smell].
"Lord Liam, watch out!"
Margarette's warning rang out as shards of ice sliced through the air toward the Heir's open back.
It evaporated on contact.
[Sight], having escaped from Hoft's pursuit, stepped forward, placing herself between the Zancrests and her distraught sister. She reached out, tightly gripping her hand in silent resolve, her fangs bared with a murderous scowl— desperate to protect her at all costs.
A far cry from a mindless beast.
This is the true essence of the frosted siblings.
Liam flinched, his smile slightly faltered.
Their image struck a sensitive chord. A sight far too familiar to a nightmare he once lived through. Two sisters, holding on to each other for dear life— it reminded him too much of his own.
"There is no need for further altercations, proud apostles of the frozen domain." Liam stated, softening his demeanor as he gently bowed.
"The war is already won."
Dubious— the dryads remained vigilant. They did not stir further, but neither did they convene.
How could they possibly trust his words?
They witnessed their magic— profound enough to be compared to lower divine beasts— wither into ashes under his mere presence.
Not even a mere flick, but a singular glance.
A being of this prominence has no obligation to abide by such pretty vows. Not to those below them, and definitely not to them— who have acted hostile with their group.
"Your sisters are merely asleep. They will soon regain consciousness." Liam continued, his kind smile persisted.
"Confirm it with your own eyes if you must."
Rein carefully laid the two maidens onto the ground, immediately retreating as the dryads rushed to them. He uttered no words. His demeanor was unchanged. He appeared distant, yet his actions spoke of his intentions.
Liam, his expression honest only to his aide, ordered Rein to take over his post, while he sat by the four of them— silently watching over.
"…just like them." He muttered to himself.
The way they held each other as if to shield themselves. The way they wept, their unsung agony, and visible hesitation. The looming innocence in their figures, and how they came to be so untrusting of the world.
"You have felt it too, haven't you?" His voice was quiet, yet reassuring.
"Your weakened seals. The unraveling flow of mana, different from before. And the divine beast's deteriorating state."
The dryad of [Sight] jolted, her frowning glare fixated on Liam's unwavering composure. She may not hear his voice, but she can read his lips. She understood his sentiment even if she couldn't trust it yet.
But the one thing she ascertained— in his eyes, they were no threat in the slightest.
Reflected in those untainted amethysts were nothing but helpless children— not even an enemy. His gaze oozed not a hint of anything except for an encompassing warmth, slowly radiating through his smile.
He wasn't underestimating them. It was simply a mere fact that he is stronger.
A display of confidence that greatly made an impression— one that she dared not try to test the validity of.
Still, curious of his claim, she clutched her chest where the chains of servitude bound their souls.
His words were no lie.
It had not vanished, but the potency of its restrictions was nothing like what it used to hold.
"Despite her slightly rough expertise, my lovely sister is a Priestess, you see. A real prodigy that comes only once in a few millennia. I'm certain that she could break the seal completely." Liam boasted, a soft sigh trailing his words.
"Well… at this rate, there might not even be a need to unbind the seal—"
[Thank… you.]
Liam heard their voices— ethereal, but undoubtedly genuine.
Those words were sung into cognition not by their lips, but their souls. Weaving a silent message— a heartfelt lullaby that their disrupted senses could no longer convey.
"Save your gratitude for when her [Highness] have been released."
Liam closed his eyes— smiling.
"And if anyone deserves such your gratitude, it's my reckless brother." He uttered, glancing at the distant horizon.
"He's the only person insane enough to make a reality like this possible."
+
"Huh? The barrier... It's flickering…?"
Amidst their recuperation, the night sky that had remained clear as porcelain glass momentarily dulled. The striking outline of the four-pillared cage flickered in and out of clarity like a firefly on its final breaths until it finally collapsed into the clouds, dissipating like stardust roaming the boundless cosmos.
"Gill must have started undoing their seal already." The Heir muttered.
"Which means… Lux is close to seizing triumph."
Liam had just declared their imminent victory was nigh, against an opponent that many deemed to be an unconquerable catastrophe no less… and yet, his voice didn't sound particularly thrilled, lacking that intoxicating sense of quenched vigor such words demanded.
What is this crippling uneasiness dwelling in his chest?
This suffocating sensation that gnawed at his psyche— anxiety that gripped his heart like a serpent, that he cannot, for the love of god, discern the cause… No, that is not true. Deep down, he knew exactly what it was.
A matter of grave importance, one that didn't concern him. In the end, he was insignificant.
And that fact is killing him.
"We must rendezvous with Silk and Gill first. Leave the injured to rest. All that still can move, prepare for immediate departure." His command rang out, firm and decisive.
"It is our duty to ensure nothing interferes with my brother's plan!"
"AS YOU WISH!!!" The soldiers responded without a moment's hesitation, voices echoing in unison as they swiftly moved into formation.
Every single one, even those still suffering irreparable damage from the last battle. No one was willing to be left behind. No one allowed themselves to escape from their oath.
And yet, as he watched his subjects rise like an undying phoenix, one remained by his side— eyes stern, his silent gaze skeptical.
"You spoke as though you're excluded in that order just now." Rein voiced his passing thought— quietly, meant only for the two of them.
"What are you planning?"
"I'm heading to Lux's side." Liam's frown deepened.
"Wasn't it the young master's ploy to deny all external factors from intervening with his battle? I do not remember hearing of any exception." Rein spoke, eyes lost in the sky.
"…Especially not you."
"Two is always better than one, don't you think? That's why we're always together, no?" Liam lightheartedly rebutted.
"And besides, we've dealt with the dryads much quicker than he anticipated, meaning parts of the plan had already been altered. If I head out now, maybe even I can be useful for something—"
"Liam."
Rein's voice cut through his rationale with despairing clarity.
"You know why he said that, because he didn't want any collateral, right?" Rein plainly stated, tone warm but hidden in indifference.
"This whole operation— its main priority is preventing any morons from thoughtlessly engaging with the divine beast." He continued, frustration apparent in those strained irises he concealed behind clouded glasses.
"He understands his power more than anyone. He knows how destructive it can be… To his enemies… and to his allies." Rein exhaled, measuring his next words.
"Especially now… with those unstable treasures in play."
Liam clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.
He hated how right Rein was. Hated that no matter how much he desired to fight alongside Lux, to stand at his brother's side like he always had— no, like he thought he did.
He couldn't. He shouldn't.
Not in the past.
Not in the present.
And most certainly, not in any lineal future.
That earlier stunt made him realize his true limits.
"Look, I know you want to stand by the things you said to the Duke, but those two— Lord Lux and Fenrir…" Rein uttered.
"They exist in a different league beyond ours. We'd only be a hindrance."
Damn it… all...!
"Just be an obedient brother and stay put where you're told." Rein continued his diss, his voice quieter, lacking its usual commanding edge.
"You don't want to ruin his efforts, do you?"
"Sighhhhhhhhhh~~~!!!" Liam exhaled sharply, frustration burning in his chest.
"So this is why he told you to always glue yourself on my business… Annoying bastard."
"Hahaha~ No doubt. He must've predicted this little outburst of yours." Rein softly chuckled, placing a reassuring, slightly teasing hand on the shoulder of the dejected Heir.
"Seriously, nothing escapes the young master's judgment."
.
"Brother!"
Approaching from the South, the figures of the twins came into view. Two of them— no, three?
Gill, lively and radiant, bounced with a joyous beat and an unblemished grin. Beside her, Silk, red as a tomato, was being held in a princess carry in the arms of a statuesque woman.
Elegant as a nightingale. Mature and refined as aged wine. An otherworldly beauty bearing azure hair that shimmered like streaks of Polaris' aurora under the moonlight, adorned in an intricate ornamental gown woven with threads of the enchanted frost.
"H-Hello, everyone…" Silk weakly greeted them, averting her gaze, hoping they would as well.
"Glad to see… you're all safe."
Blushing from ear to ear, Silk scurried like a startled kitten after she was gently set down. She buried her face in Gill's back, who was thoroughly enjoying every second of her embarrassment.
Attention gathered round, curiosity palpable.
Even Liam paused— a few seconds, simply gazing at the stranger's features.
Eyes of ripened amber. Skin lighter than the purest porcelain. Luscious hair cascading down to her ankles in the color of the ocean depths… Just as the records stated.
There was no mistaking her.
"It is an honor to be graced by your presence, Esteemed Guardian." Liam offered utmost respect, dropping to one knee without hesitation.
Rein's eyes widened at the mention of that title. Shock and utter bewilderment flickered across his face as he instinctively followed suit, kneeling beside the Heir.
The soldiers around them, once thrown into a stunned disarray by their commander's sudden grovelling, now panic like headless chickens. Soon as understanding dawned upon them, one by one, they did as their superiors demonstrated— by force or otherwise.
{Author's Note: The Dryads are asleep.}
"Nay. Rise, brave warriors of thy proud dominion." The woman spoke. Her voice, timelessly melodic, whispered like ancient winds.
"'Tis I who must offer gratitude. For thou hast freed me and mine children from our cursed peril. The Land of Frost shall be ever indebted to thy noble kin."
Her delicate hands came to rest upon the twins' shoulders. Both of whom stood bewildered and quite frankly intimidated, now unsure of how to act after learning who this person truly is.
"I am deeply honored by your benevolent words, Your Highness." Liam said, slowly rising.
"We, humble servants of the noble House of Zancrest, are most joyous to bear witness to your long-awaited return."
"Zancrest…?" She softly echoed.
"Ah, I see. Then, this must be Eisenburg." Her eyes, narrowed in thought, settled on Liam.
"Do tell me, young one. That ashen mane and thy striking features— art thou perchance descended from that fair lad, Lucas?"
"Lucas Von Zancrest, the twelfth head in the history of our domain, was my great-grandfather." Liam responded promptly.
"Since your most lamentable sealing at the hands of the Divine Beast Fenrir, three generations have passed within our lineage. I, Liam, am the firstborn son and appointed Heir to the current Duke, Louis Von Zancrest II."
"So much time hath passed…" She whispered, eyes distant and somewhat shivering.
"Mine own memories of the days I became that child's familiar are but a haze, naught but fleeting echoes of a distant past." Her hand clutched her chest, tone strained in silent sorrow.
"And now, mine own strength hath waned greatly since, nothing like the might I once was hailed."
The Guardian lowered her head.
"Liam, and all those who came before thyself, I beseech thee— forgive mine own failing. I could not uphold the ancient vow once sworn."
"Please raise your head, Your Highness." Liam gracefully replied.
"We hold no lingering attachments towards the unfulfilled oath. We are simply rejoiced to have aided in your reemergence."
The guardian stepped forward, requesting Liam to present his hands before her.
"I, Anaphia of the Hexe, swear upon my name, to bestow mine own blessings and bring forth prosperity unto the denizens of this prospered land, who hath delivered me from mine eternal peril, for so long as breath doth grace this ancient vessel."
Her mana— ethereal and pristine, possessing a transparent shimmer and a bluish glint— gathered above his palms like coalescing gales, conjuring a crystalline snowflake reflecting the endlessly weaving pattern in her stark white dress.
It pulsed with warmth and cold. A sigil of equilibrium— one that she once embodied.
She smiled— breath quite ragged, complexion visibly drained— as she finished revealing her bestowed artifact to Liam's eyes.
"I have poured what little mana remained within me into this Horcrux." She stated.
"A gift. A promise. Mine own essence woven into form. 'Tis not much, yet I pray thee, make do with this for the present—"
—Fufufu~
A terrible silence fell.
Her smile faded. Her gentle eyes dilated into an expression of pure horror— a deep, unyielding hostility welling up within her chest. Her aura, embodiment of serenity, fractured, replaced by a chilling, consuming dread.
Every trace of grace and poise, gone— dissipating like melted glaciers.
Her gaze snapped upward to the horizons of waking night— towards the northern sky where the gates of heaven had been twisted into singing a broken symphony of thundering rumbling, scorched in unblemished detonations, and veiled in an indecipherable maelstrom that blotted out its divine aurora.
And there, within the void…
A malevolent presence loomed.
It was [Her].
Those crimson eyes gleamed with the insatiable hunger of calamities. Eyes, like twin suns soaked in blood, that had once cast ruin upon the world. Resurfacing at this moment to— she fears— slaughter what remained of the fragmented reality she failed to devour a thousand years ago.
Feral.
Apocalyptic.
A presence cursed.
An aberrated existence.
The Voracious Queen— [Silken Sovereign].
"…How? …Why? She should've long perished in the Abyss of the underworld… Banished from the realm of the living eternally… stripped of all mortal facets." The Guardian erratically mumbled beneath shattered breaths.
"Your… highness?" Silk hesitantly inquired.
"Tell me…"Anaphia stirred, her fingers trembling with anxious apprehension.
"…Who lies within that curtain of smoke with the Divine Beast?"
"It is our brother, Lux."
Gill stepped forward, chest puffed as she answered with pride. Though her eyes flinched, concerned of the guardian's change in tone.
"…Alone?"
"Yes!" Gill boldly confirmed.
"Lux is among, if not the strongest, being on the continent. He was the one to orchestrate each phase of this operation, and thus far, everything has unfolded just as he had foreseen." She spoke with an unwavering air of confidence.
"The only reason I succeeded in breaking her Majesty's seal is because he had successfully weakened Fenrir." She continued with a smile.
"Please rest assured! It is but a matter of time before he emerges victorious."
Silence.
The guardian did not move.
Despite their reassurances, her mind did not ease. On the contrary, it only fueled the chilling embers of terror that slowly gripped her chest like a plague. The look upon Anaphia's face remained distraught with a veiled shadow of unsettling dread— darker than the deepest night, more ferocious than any beasts.
A thousand emotions haunted her at once.
Guilt. Doubt.
Sorrow. Loathing.
Contempt. Confusion.
Resentment. Apathy. Anguish.
Memories of unbearable misery.
And above all— a primal, suffocating…
—Fear.
A visceral horror walking in the chimes of its victims' screams. An inevitable hand that clawed her insides, scraping its poisoned nails across her flesh, terrorizing her mind with an incessant hum that amplifies all nightmares.
Anaphia's vision blurred. The blood in her veins ran cold as she faced the realization.
That mist— it wasn't of this world.
It had been perfectly cloaked in the contoured shadows of night, hidden like needles in a haystack beneath a guise of tranquil stability, but now… now she could finally recognize it for what it truly was.
A self-woven cage— not to restrict exit, but to refuse any further entry. A prison inflicted in the image of a divine verdict, cleansed and fortified in a coating of blood. A seal granted the magnitude to defy the world's sentience… and simultaneously, it exists as a passageway towards something— someone far more dreadful than a mere pup.
A space apart from theirs. A realm where calamities slumbered, waiting for the time of awakening… or perhaps they already have.
"Impossible… impossible…"
"A ruin of that wicked cult should not have persisted to this age… It should've only had vitality to survive centuries at most…"
Its presence alone was enough to unravel the very threads weaving the walls of reality.
It would reawaken disasters that had just been put to slumber, buried in the depths of the ether, lost with the heretics who had once unwittingly summoned them.
"No… No… This cannot be…"
The very essence of it was wrong. An abomination meant to never again see the light of day… However, if it isn't…
If a [Harbinger] of those curses do exist here… just like then…
"We… must flee… from this place…"
The Guardian of the Frost, once so proud and steadfast, stumbled over her words.
Her voice quivered, breath hoarse, throat crushed to the point that a broken whisper was all she could muster. Her feet— her whole body, down to the marrow of her bones— shook relentlessly, convulsing in betrayal of her impulse to flee. Her fingers, cold as they were before, were now freezing— ice blossomed between her fingers as a raging blizzard erupted to veil her existence.
Her form began to shrink— regressing into the vulnerable, innocent form of a child, overwhelmed by a fear older than time itself.
"Your Highness! What is the matter!?" Liam called, concern laced in his panic.
"We'll… all be slain by them… Everyone without exception…" Her voice broke as her shoulders slumped, curling in on herself.
"…It will be a repeat of the tragedy… the one to befell this world a thousand years past…"
"Tragedy? What could you possibly mean—"
Before Liam could press on, the ground howled.
The very air screamed with fractured snaps as if the earth itself was alive, writhing painfully in a desperate struggle, coherent even to their ears. A low, guttural rumble rose from the core of the world, bursting into a deafening roar that leveled all it touched— an explosion.
The heavens were cleaved in half, shattered in incinerated fragments as a blazing sphere of crimson and purple fire tore through the sky like a starved dragon, casting its shadow across the land. Ashes and molten fragments filled the air. Petals of glacial ice and venomous smoke twisted and roared like a sentient hurricane, obliterating what was left of the already ruined district.
The flames were ferocious, but their trail almost seemed calculating— devouring everything in their path with a precision that was eerily human.
"LUX!!!" Liam's voice overcame the chaos.
Due north, where the decisive end had been foretold— an unprecedented finale played fiddle with their thoughts.
These were their foremost, and final, opinions before the truth unveiled itself in discordant waves of pure, unbridled destruction. Those who had stood firm were struck by a surging peril, unconscious ones dragged in its untamed asunder— swept away to its whimsical slaughter as though they were nothing more than leaves in the storm's disgruntled wake.
The twins, the soldiers, the dryads, the guardian deity herself— all of them.
Among them, carried within the epicenter of this disaster that birth this plight of darkness, there lay a black and white streak, soaring the abyss as it embraced the child of fate— the problematic brother he had vowed to protect.
"Luxion…!!!"
Liam's heart seized. Mind halting blank.
His eyes locked on that fleeting form. Before Lux's body reached the scorching Earth, swallowed in its insatiable appetite, he moved to oppose its converging current with a foot already surrendered to his grave…
"Wait for me…!!!"
His silhouette blurred into the haze, the embers of his spirit burned— exhausting its very last.
"[AXIS SHIFT]!!!"