Ronin strode alongside the Greizer horses with effortless, predatory grace, his mask tucked away and his face open to the wind. The morning sun glinted off his crystalline left hand and the gold trim of his coat as it fluttered wildly, drawing awed glances from his companions as they thundered across the open plain.
At first, the party watched him with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. Kade kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting Ronin to lag behind, but Ronin matched the horses stride for stride—even as the Greizers unleashed wind and gravity magic, their hooves barely skimming the grass and sending wildflowers flying in their wake.
The rhythm of hooves and Ronin’s silent, relentless pace set an uneasy tempo. For every mile, the group’s skepticism faded, replaced by a growing sense of awe—and something else, a prickling awareness that the world’s rules were bending around this man.
Jembo, riding closest, stared in disbelief. “He’s not even breaking a sweat…”
Wyran’s jaw dropped as Ronin pulled ahead for a moment, then fell back in line, as if to prove he could run faster if he wished. “That’s not possible. He’s keeping up at a full gallop!”
Gloria, a faint smile tugging at her lips, called out, “Don’t let him show us up, boys!” She leaned low over her mount, but Ronin’s presence was constant—a shadow just ahead or beside them, never faltering.
Kade, finally unable to contain his amazement, shouted over the wind, “Alright, Ronin! You win! Now you’re just making our horses feel bad!”
Ronin shot him a sideways grin, his voice cutting easily through the thunder of hooves. “You’d better keep up, or I’ll start scouting ahead for breakfast.”
The Greizers, freed from the artifact’s suppression, glided with magical speed—yet Ronin, all flesh and will, kept pace, as if the laws of nature bent around his determination.
“Not even demons can run that fast, or for as long as he’s running,” Jembo muttered, awe in his voice.
“I wish I had power like him,” Wyran said, grinning despite himself.
Ronin slows, nearing Gloria, making sure there is distance between them.
“The way he talks about it… Isn’t there a way for people to get stronger? Like, actually absorb more mana?” Ronin asked, keeping his voice low as the wind whipped past.
Gloria gave him a sidelong glance, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “For most people? Not really. But also… sort of.”
Ronin frowned, not hiding his confusion.
She leaned in a little, voice dropping. “Heroes and the demon lord have something different—a system that lets them grow stronger. It’s ancient. Supposedly invented before the holy war by Luthor, the True Hero’s disciple, and the goddess Ethis. The more they kill, the stronger they get.”
“A system?” Ronin echoed, brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“They can literally see something called a ‘level’ floating above everyone’s head,” Gloria said, searching for the right words. “It’s not just a feeling. It’s real.”
Ronin’s eyes narrowed, interest sharpening. “Levels?”
She nodded. “Ordinary people use adventurer bands to measure level. But my father—he taught Oldzheil how to make a miniature version of the system. In heaven, it lets us see levels too.”
Ronin’s face lit up, excitement breaking through his usual reserve. “Old man does? No wonder he’s loaded. Now I really want one of those replicas for myself.”
“Are you sure it will work in your artifact’s field?” Jembo says in a teasing voice
“Shit, I hope it does.” Ronin says, his expression suggesting his distress.
The party slowed as the forest loomed ahead, shadows swallowing the last of the sun. The Greizer horses pawed the ground, nostrils flaring at the scent of malice on the air. Everyone dismounted, gathering in a tight circle at the treeline.
Kade raised a hand, signalling a halt. “Listen up, everyone, this forest is dense with malice and mana. So mana detection will be hard.” His tone was clipped, eyes sharp.
Kade reached into his satchel and produced a handful of Lenses made into pendants, each etched with crude runes on the metal piece holding the lens in place. “Before we head in, take these,” he said quietly, handing them out one by one. “Artifact replicas. They’re tuned to resonate with the main artifact’s field—supposed to Show us another being’s level. Should work for all of us.” He says Looking at Ronin as if explaining to Him.
Ronin took his, turning it over in his palm excitedly. The runes shimmered faintly—until Gloria, curious, stepped closer. Within two meters of Ronin, the glow on both pendants faded, the runes turning to dull scratches.
Kade’s eyes narrowed. “That’s odd. They’re supposed to keep glowing even if another artifact’s field is up.” He looked at Ronin, suspicion flickering in his gaze.
Gloria frowned, holding her pendant out and watching the runes pulse back to life as she stepped away from Ronin, then fade again as she moved closer. “It’s only near you, Ronin. Is your artifact interfering?”
Wyran and Jembo exchanged uneasy glances, each testing the effect with their own pendants. The group’s unease was palpable.
Ronin forced a casual shrug, slipping the pendant over his head. “Maybe mine’s just defective. Or maybe the artifact’s field is stronger than you thought.” His tone was light, but his gaze didn’t quite meet Kade’s.
“Can you see my level?” Ronin asks to Wyran
“Let me see” Wyran says bringing his lens before his right eye. But a text pops up through the lens “It’s says ‘air’, the replica must not work on mister Ronin artifact, how powerful is it to defy a replica of heaven’s system?” Wyran questions.
Ronin’s eye twitch as his excited expression dies out.
“This is so boring.” He says.
Kade studied Ronin a moment longer, then let the matter drop—but the suspicion lingered in the air. “Right. Well, if any of you feel the pendant heat up, get back to the rendezvous point immediately. Don’t take chances in there.”
Kade cleared his throat, shifting the mood. He whistled sharply, and a Baverian bird swooped down from the trees, perching on his arm. “You—stay out here. Watch the Greizers and anyone else coming or going. Report if anything strange happens.” The bird bobbed its head and vanished into the branches.
Kade turned back to the group. “Alright. Gloria, you take the centre. We’ll sweep right.”
“What do I do?” Ronin asked, masking his fatigue.
“Ronin you will go left, I will have Baverians on both you and Gloria, so I can call you if we need to regroup.”
“I work best when I’m alone,” Ronin replied with a smirk hiding his vulnerability as he strode into the gloom.
“Ok everyone, get to work,” Kade ordered. Feet scuffled; Gloria strode toward the heart of the forest, Kade and team veered right, while Ronin disappeared to the left.
Ronin just nodded, tucking the dead-rune pendant beneath his coat. He could feel the weight of their stares—a silent, growing suspicion that he was hiding something. But he said nothing, letting the moment hang as he turned toward the forest’s shadow.
Gloria’s gaze lingered a beat longer, then she strode off, boots crunching in the undergrowth. Kade and his team moved right.
The Forest greeted Gloria with a hush so deep it pressed against her ears. She moved with deliberate, predatory grace, the world narrowing to the crunch of moss underfoot and the faint pulse of her own heartbeat. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy in trembling green shafts, dappling her path with shifting patterns.
The forest greeted Gloria with a hush so deep it pressed against her eardrums, muting even her thoughts. She moved with a predator’s caution, every step deliberate, her world shrinking to the muffled crunch of moss and the faint, steady beat of her own heart. Sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy, trembling in green shafts that painted the ground in shifting mosaics.
Each step was a negotiation with the wild: the soft give of leaf mold, the sticky tug of roots, the cold brush of damp ferns against her boots. She paused, breath slow, letting her senses stretch into the hush. Somewhere ahead—a faint, oily slither on bark. Her hand tightened on her sword, the blade humming with stored heat.
A corrupt naga’s musk tainted the air—sickly-sweet, cloying, wrong. Gloria’s muscles coiled. The naga’s triangular head eased from a tangle of roots, eyes burning with malice.
It struck, spitting black venom. Gloria rolled aside, feeling droplets burn against her sleeve. She retaliated with a burst of fire, blade glowing white-hot as she slashed through the naga’s neck. The headless body thrashed, spraying foul blood that hissed in the undergrowth.
She stepped back, breathing hard, sweat trickling down her brow. “They’re not supposed to be here,” she muttered. “Demon continent spawn so close to the treelines?”
She burned the remains, the acrid smoke curling upward, and pressed deeper into the forest. The silence was absolute—no birds, no insects, just the distant groan of ancient trees. It felt as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
She continued for a few more meters but without warning, the ground erupted—three razor-backed boars crashed through the undergrowth, crystalline spikes jutting from their hides, eyes wild with corrupted mana. Gloria’s heart hammered. She sidestepped the first, feeling the rush of air as it barreled past, then spun and slashed, her heated blade slicing through bristle and bone.
“Not as tough as Ronin’s left hand.” She thought.
The second lunged, jaws snapping. Gloria ducked low, driving her sword up through its throat—hot blood sprayed her face, stinging her skin. The third circled, wary, then charged. Gloria braced, meeting it head-on. The impact rattled her bones, but she held her ground, slashing across the beast’s skull. It collapsed with a shudder, blood steaming on the moss.
She stood over the carcasses, breath ragged, the coppery tang of blood thick in the air. “Corruption’s spreading faster than I thought,” she muttered, wiping her blade clean on the grass. The forest pressed in, tighter, more hostile. She moved on, boots squelching in the muck.
Before she can catch her breath, A high-pitched whine sliced through the silence. Gloria glanced up—mana-mutated insects, their carapaces glimmering sickly blue, descended in a furious cloud. She swept her blade in a wide arc, fire bursting from the edge. Insects popped in blue flame, the swarm scattering, but not before a few bit deep into her skin. She hissed, pain flaring, a burning numbness spreading up her arm.
She staggered, blinking sweat and blood from her eyes. The world spun—poison. Gloria gritted her teeth, forced her mana to burn away the toxins. The pain ebbed, leaving her shaky but standing.
She pressed on, deeper into the forest’s heart. The trees twisted, bark oozing black sap. The air was thick with rot and old magic. Gloria slowed, every sense alert, until she stumbled into a clearing.
She paused, eyes scanning the undergrowth. A flicker—a blur of silver and blue—caught her attention. Shin rabbits. Elusive, their fur shimmered with faint magic as they darted between roots. Gloria’s lips curled in a small, satisfied smile.
“Finally, something uncorrupted.” She whispers a relief.
She brushed her fingers over her dimensional pocket, pressing two fingers to the seal. Her sword vanished in a shimmer; her slender bow appeared in her grip, the transition seamless. She nocked an arrow, breath slowing, the world shrinking to the rabbit’s twitching nose. She released. The arrow flew, silent and true, pinning the shin rabbit before it could vanish. Its cry was faint, musical—like wind chimes—then silence.
She nocked an arrow, drawing the string back in one fluid motion. Her breath slowed. The world shrank to the rabbit’s twitching nose, the subtle tension in its hind legs. She released. The arrow flew, silent and true, pinning the shin rabbit through the shoulder before it could vanish. The creature let out a faint, musical cry—a sound like chimes in the wind—before going still.
She moved quickly, collecting the rabbit and murmuring a quiet thanks to the forest. Shin rabbit are big rabbits who’s pelts were prized, but Gloria hunted for the meat—and the challenge. She spotted another, larger, its fur almost translucent. She drew, fired, missed by a whisker. The rabbit vanished in a blur.
Grinning, Gloria slipped through the brush, moving low and silent. Another Shin rabbit appeared. This time, she anticipated its feint, loosing an arrow that caught it clean behind the ear. She retrieved both kills, stowing them in her pouch with a practiced flick.
A sudden rustle—Gloria spun, arrow ready, but it was only a trio of mana-mutated squirrels, eyes glowing faintly. She let them pass, heart still thumping from the hunt. The silence settled back, broken only by a distant Baverian bird.
She straightened, exhaled, and pressed her palm to the pocket. The bow vanished; her sword returned, fitting her grip like memory. Gloria wiped sweat from her brow, savoring the satisfaction of a clean hunt.
But the forest wasn’t done with her. A guttural hiss slithered through the air. Gloria tensed as another corrupt naga uncoiled from the roots, venom dripping from its fangs. She sidestepped its spit, blade flashing as she cleaved it in four. The stench of malice blood filled the air, thick and acrid.
She burned the remains, muttering, “Before the malice blood ruins the ground.” The flames crackled, devouring the corrupted flesh.
Gloria pressed deeper, senses sharpened. The air grew heavier, thick with rot and old magic. She dispatched another trio of razor-backed boars with swift, heated sword strokes. Each kill left her more certain: the forest was changing, becoming a battleground of corruption.
After hours, she paused in a sun-dappled glade, catching her breath, when a silvery flash drew her gaze. Another shin rabbit—a rare, elder buck—watched her from the shadows. Gloria’s heart pounded. She pressed her sword to the pocket, swapped for her bow, and nocked a special arrow tipped with blue rune.
The big rabbit bolted. Gloria tracked it, weaving between trees, boots silent on soft earth. She loosed the arrow—it struck true. The elder buck fell, its fur catching the light in a final, spectral shimmer. Gloria knelt, whispering a prayer of thanks, and stowed the prize in her pouch.
By now, She had two shin rabbits and 3 baskets of herbs in her dimension pocket—enough for the hunt’s requirements. Pride surged, tempered by exhaustion in her limbs.
Gloria waved to the Baverian flying overhead, which landed near her in mere seconds.
“Kade! I’m done—hunted two Swep Rabbits and three baskets full of herbs,” she says as she clicks her tongue, the bird flies away.
She was about to turn back when the melodic call of a mane Horndeer rang out. Gloria froze, every sense attuned. The deer stepped into the clearing, antlers spiraling with golden light, its coat a living tapestry. Gloria’s breath caught. The Horndeer—legendary, swift, nearly impossible to catch.
She pressed her bow to the pocket, feeling the subtle resistance as it vanished, replaced by her sword. She stalked the deer, moving low and silent, every muscle tensed.
After a long chase, Just when she prepared to strike, the Baverian swooped down Scaring the Horndeer away.
Gloria sighs, her frustration palpable.
Kade’s voice echoing from its beak: “Excellent as always, but now we need to abandon the hunt, Gloria. Meet me outside the forest. Meet us on the rendezvous point. It’s very urgent. I’ll try to contact Ronin, we need to leave this forest and return to town fast.”
She sighed, pressing her sword to the pocket and retrieving her bow for the walk back. “Next time,” she whispered, watching the shadows swallow the Horndeer’s trail.
Kade’s boots sank into the sodden earth, every step met with the squelch of mud and the faint, sickly-sweet reek of rot. The air was thick—damp with spores and the metallic tang of decay, heavy enough to taste. Roots twisted like the gnarled fingers of the dead, clawing at his ankles, and every shadow seemed to pulse with hidden menace.
He signaled his group forward, heart thumping a warning beneath his ribs. Jembo crept ahead, nostrils flaring, eyes darting. “Something’s close,” he breathed, and the words seemed to vanish into the hush, swallowed by the forest’s oppressive silence.
A branch snapped. Kade’s hand went to his mana bow, drawing shimmering energy to his palm. Suddenly, shadow hounds erupted from the underbrush—black, spectral, their bodies flickering between flesh and mist. Furvin’s shield rang with the impact of snapping jaws. Kade fired, arrows of pure mana slicing through the shifting forms. The hounds dissolved into oily smoke, but more surged from the gloom.
Wyran’s sword flared with runes, cleaving two hounds in a single arc. Jembo rolled aside as another beast lunged, his dagger finding its eye. The hound convulsed and vanished. The group pressed on, breath ragged, adrenaline burning in their veins.
“Never seen them this far from the rift,” Furvin panted, sweat streaking his brow.
Kade wiped his own brow, the back of his hand gritty with dirt and blood. “Keep moving,” he ordered, voice tight. “The corruption’s spreading.” He could feel it—the forest seemed to close behind them, swallowing their path, the weight of unseen eyes pressing on his back.
A deep, guttural growl rumbled through the trees. The group froze as a hulking demon bear lumbered into view, its matted fur slick with blood, eyes burning like coals. The earth trembled with each step. Kade’s pulse hammered. He circled, firing arrows into the beast’s flank as Furvin braced for impact, shield raised. Claws raked metal with a screech. Wyran darted in, blade flashing, and Jembo hurled a flask of oil—flames licking up the bear’s side. The stench of burning fur and rot filled the air.
The fight was brutal, every blow met with savage retaliation. The bear’s breath was fetid, its wounds oozing black ichor that sizzled on the ground. Kade’s arms ached, sweat stinging his eyes, but he kept firing, kept moving. Finally, a last arrow found the beast’s eye. It collapsed with a thunderous crash, shaking the ground and sending a flock of mana-fattened crows screeching into the sky.
Panting, Kade wiped blood from his cheek, the copper taste sharp on his tongue. “We need to move,” he rasped, voice raw. “This place is crawling with corrupted beasts.” His gaze swept the group, searching for wounds, for fear. He saw both.
They skirted a fetid swamp, the water black and still, twisted trees clawing at the sky. Frogs the size of cats leapt from the muck, their slick bodies glistening with unnatural slime. Jembo grunted, “Don’t touch the water. It’s crawling with leech-worms.”
Kade’s skin crawled as he watched a tentacle lash from the water, wrapping around Furvin’s leg. Furvin’s cry split the air. Wyran and Jembo hacked at the tentacle, blades flashing. The thing recoiled, leaving a burning welt. Kade pressed on, nerves frayed, every sense stretched taut.
Hours blurred into a haze of tension and violence—corrupted crows with razor beaks, their wings beating the air into a frenzy. Kade conjured a shield of wind, scattering the flock, while Wyran and Jembo picked them off with arrows and knives. The constant threat, the relentless noise, the stink of blood and sweat—it all pressed in, threatening to break him.
At last, the trees thinned, and they stumbled into a clearing atop a cliff. Jembo sniffed the air, face tightening. “This is demon territory. We’re close. Follow me!” he hissed, breaking into a run.
They burst onto the cliff’s edge. Below, an undead army sprawled across the land—hundreds strong, a sea of rotting flesh and bone, led by a monstrous Titan whose shadow seemed to swallow the dying light.
“By the Gods! Another undead army!” Furvin gasped, covering his mouth with a trembling hand.
“Curse of the devil—look! A Titan!” Furvin’s voice quavered, eyes wide with horror.
Kade’s stomach twisted. “What’s a Titan doing out here?” he murmured, dread settling like a stone in his gut. “We need to leave. Now.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.
But skeletons were already encircling them, the clatter of bone and rusted armor closing in. Kade drew a long stick, mana coalescing into a bow. He fired, arrows slicing through the closest undead. Wyran swung his sword, sending a wave of magic that shattered skulls and ribs. The group ran as soon as the path opened, hearts pounding, the sense of pursuit hot on their heels.
“Shit!” Kade gasped, horror etched on his face as Jembo grabbed his hand, dragging him through the chaos.
“Instructor, what about Gloria and Ronin?” Wyran shouted, voice raw with panic.
“No news,” Kade managed, breath ragged. “My Baverian was attacked. The army’s moving faster—heading for our town!” Fear clawed at his insides. “My Baverian’s dead.”
Kade’s face twisted in terror and anger. The forest watched, silent and unblinking.
A Baverian landed nearby, Gloria’s voice echoing from its beak. “Kade, I’m done—hunted two Swep Rabbits and three baskets of herbs.”
He forced calm into his voice. “Good. But abandon the hunt. Meet me outside.” He clicked his tongue, sending the bird off, urgency burning in his chest.
An hour later, dusk bruised the sky as they gathered outside the forest, air heavy with the promise of violence. Kade’s hands shook as he checked his gear, eyes scanning the tree line for Ronin.
“Where’s Ronin?” Gloria demanded, frustration and worry mingling in her voice.
“Lost,” Furvin said, worry creasing his brow.
“A Baverian lost him?” Gloria’s frown deepened.
“The forest felt wrong, corruption everywhere, makes it hard for baverians to use mana vision.” Jembo muttered, voice low.
“To think that even Reaver level beasts are corrupted.” Gloria spoke in disbelief.
“The undead army we saw on our way, it’s is heading for town,” Furvin added, his tone grim.
Gloria’s eyes widen, not believing a word.
“And there’s even an undead Titan,” Wyran said, voice trembling, haunted.
“Stop joking around, if you want to rest already, just say so.” Gloria says, trying to recollect herself.
“We are not joking!” Jembo snaps, startling Gloria.
“I am sorry about that, I just—we know its hard to believe.” He says
“We must warn the town,” Gloria said, solemn and steady.
“Leave Ronin?” Kade’s voice cracked, disbelief and guilt warring in his chest.
“He’s stronger than us,” Gloria said, her gaze unwavering. “Magic doesn’t work on him. He’ll be fine.”
Jembo nodded. “I agree.”
Kade whistled, calling the Baverian watching the horses. “One of us must stay. I’ll leave my Baverian where it last saw Ronin.” His voice was hoarse, the decision heavy.
“Oldzheil said ronin is an expert Hitman, they are similar to Assassins, I am sure he will be fine. And his artifact will keep him from getting detected by any hostile unless he wants trouble.” Gloria said, mounting her horse.
Half The holy kingdom lay in ruins, its proud towers now nothing but shattered silhouettes against a sky bruised by smoke and fire. Temple damaged but still standing with all its glory having survive another attack. Ash drifted through the air, settling on broken stone and the tangled bodies of the fallen. In the shadow of a half-collapsed wall, a makeshift shelter stood—barely more than a patchwork of scavenged beams and torn canvas, the scent of blood and antiseptic thick inside.
Ava lay unconscious on a narrow cot, her skin pale beneath a crust of dried blood and bruises. The healer’s hands moved with practiced care, smearing glowing ointment over wounds that pulsed with faint, angry light. The air inside was heavy, thick with the copper tang of pain and the low hum of magic.
Karma sat nearby on a battered stool, his posture rigid, fist clenched on his right knee, left hand missing. His armor was scorched and dented, his face streaked with grime and exhaustion. He watched Ava’s face, willing her to wake, his own breath shallow and uneven.
Ava’s brow furrowed, lips trembling. Suddenly, she jerked upright, eyes wide and wild. “Kirilya!” The name tore from her throat, raw and desperate, echoing off the cracked stone.
The healer reacted instantly, pressing Ava back down. “Ava, you’re gravely injured. Don’t move!” Her voice was firm but gentle, magic pulsing at her fingertips as she tried to soothe the pain.
Karma was at her side in a heartbeat, grabbing her hand. “Oh thank the gods,” he choked, his voice rough with emotion. “I thought I’d lose you this time.” His thumb brushed her knuckles, his calloused skin a silent testament to the battles he’d fought for her.
Ava’s eyes filled with tears. “They took her… dear, they took Kirilya!” Her voice broke, pain and panic warring in her chest. She tried to sit up again, but agony forced her back, sobs wracking her battered body.
Karma stepped forward from the shadows into the light filtering through the broken part of the roof, his presence a steadying force. “I know, Ava. I’ve already asked Feiney for help. She’s deployed every spy she has—no one will rest until Kirilya is found.”
Ava’s gaze drifted to Karma’s left arm—or rather, the place where it had been. She gasped, covering her mouth. “Your hand… Karma, your hand…”
Karma forced a crooked smile, his eyes shining with pain and pride. “I’m lucky to be here at all. He nearly finished me, but Hoizoid arrived just in time. Together, we drove Genamura back—and even managed to take one of his wings.” Despite the loss, there was a glint of defiance in his eyes.
“How did this happen to you?” Karma asked, voice softer now as he looked at Ava’s battered form. Her skin was laced with fresh scars, muscles still tense beneath the bruises.
Ava swallowed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I fought off three corrupted Dire Wind Wolves, but then a minotaur appeared. It blocked me—kept me from chasing the kidnappers who had Kirilya. It was like… like it was helping them escape.” She closed her eyes, shame and frustration flickering across her face.
Karma’s jaw tightened, his voice low. “They were trying to help the kidnappers get away, weren’t they?”
Ava nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. Karma’s expression darkened, rage simmering beneath his calm.
A tense silence settled, broken only by the uneven breaths of the wounded.
Suddenly, a sharp, relentless knock rattled the flimsy door. The healer hurried to open it, and Feiney slipped inside, her ninja garb streaked with dust and blood, eyes grim.
“Feiney, what happened? Where is Kirilya?” Karma demanded, surging to his feet, the urgency in his voice cutting through the gloom.
Feiney shook her head, lips pressed in a thin line. “They used our teleporters to escape—destroyed it from the other side. By now, they’re probably near the Clodian Kingdom.”
Karma’s fist slammed into the wall, splintering the wood. Feiney flinched, but didn’t look away. “I lost a quarter of my spies,” she admitted, voice tight with grief. “But I’ve sent word from Newin Town to Clodian, Miraya is there and is already on their trail. Vorenz succeeded in becoming king of Meghara Kingdom and is on his way here. I am sure We’ll find them.”
Karma moved to her, gripping her shoulders. His voice was raw, pleading. “Please, Feiney. By any cost—Kirilya must not fall in with the slave traders. Hire mercenaries, adventurers, anyone. I want her back, no matter what it takes.” His words trembled with desperation.
Her expressions shift into concern and doubt “I don’t understand one thing, the ones who kidnapped her is an evil syndicate run by the devil’s intelligence, and they must have hired those men to kidnap Kirilya, but what would the demon lord gain by kidnapping Kirilya? Are you hiding something from us, Karma?”
“You are doubting us now? Even if I were, we need to find her, please I beg you Feiney.” Karma asks
Feiney’s stern expression softened. She placed her hand over his. “You idiot. We’re friends. None of us will give up on Kirilya. We’ll find her. I promise.”
A heavy shadow fell across the room as Hoizoid entered, armor gleaming dully in the weak light. He nodded to the group, his presence filling the cramped space.
“I’ll agree with the stalker for once,” Hoizoid rumbled. “The kingdom is cleansed of demons, but too many escaped. Karma we understand your concern for your daughter but we can’t delay. We must level up, or the demons will win. The era of dread and pain is coming, unless we act now.”
Karma’s shoulders slumped. “But how? The demons are too strong. We’re only level 50—Genamura was already level 120.”
A bald monk stepped forward, robes stained with ash. “The Demon Traitor is to blame. If we’d killed the demon lord instead, none of this would have happened.”
Ava, her wounds glowing faintly as she summoned healing magic, pushed herself upright. “Then we hunt. Monsters, demons—whatever it takes. As for Ronin…” Her eyes hardened, voice steady with resolve. “I will slay him next time. I swear it.”
The others nodded, each face set with determination and exhaustion. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of a dying fire and the distant wail of wind through ruined streets.
Karma looked around the shelter, the faces of his friends etched with pain, loss, and hope. He squeezed Ava’s hand, silent promise passing between them. Outside, the kingdom’s ruins whispered of battles lost and won, and the uncertain road that still lay ahead.