Tharvul's thirteen heads regenerated faster this time, its Monster Core—cracked slightly within its chest—pumping out more power than it had used in centuries.
With a thunderous roar, it leapt backward.
Nubilum advanced, its misted arm extending outward as a scythe, forged from its very essence, formed in its grasp.
Resting the weapon across its shoulder, it slowed its movements deliberately, tormenting the beast before it—keeping Tharvul unsure of when the strike would come.
Tharvul retreated further, all thirteen of its minds calculating every possible outcome. In every scenario it envisioned, it died. Not once did it survive an encounter with the thing now walking toward it.
Instinct screamed the truth it didn't want to accept: it couldn't win.
With a howl of frustration and fear, the beast turned and fled. Every fiber of its being knew—if it stayed, it would be erased.
Nubilum turned away, the scythe dissolving as it walked toward Zay, who lay unconscious on the jungle floor.
Its gaze fell on the silver katana. It stepped forward, raising a hand, and black mist coiled like tendrils around the blade, lifting it gently into its grasp.
It glanced back, toward the trees, narrowing its gaze slightly.
The mist-born being approached Zay, the sword glowing faintly in response to its presence. Nubilum stared into the silver edge, then slid it into the long sheath at its side.
Kneeling beside Zay, it placed the sheathed blade in his hands. A cloak of mist curled around its shoulders as it rose, turning back into the shadows of the jungle—vanishing without ever making a sound.
"I told you we'd find his corpse—and the sword would be gone!"
A harsh voice cut through the jungle like a war drum.
The woman from earlier emerged, flanked by twenty others stepping out from between the trees. Every one of them bore the same striking features: azure-blue hair, pale skin, and glowing sapphire eyes.
Their expressions shifted the moment they laid eyes on Zay—half-buried beneath a massive tree branch, unconscious, but somehow still gripping the katana tightly in his hands.
They rushed forward. Several men worked to lift the branch off him while one knelt beside Zay, pressing his hand to the middle of Zay's back.
A faint glyph glowed.
[Seal: Blooming Aster – Medical Check]
For several minutes, the medic examined every inch of Zay's battered form—palpating bones, checking his pulse, and scanning the body with trained precision. Finally, he looked up, his expression grim.
"We need to bring him with us. He won't survive out here. I don't even know how he's still breathing... His femurs and tibias are fractured, possibly shattered. Both humeri are broken, and the ulnae and radii are misaligned. His thoracic and lumbar spine show signs of compression and possible dislocation. He's hemorrhaging—there's blood still actively flowing from multiple wounds, and I suspect severe internal bleeding as well."
Without hesitation, five of the men stepped forward. Together, they lifted Zay with careful precision and began making their way through the jungle.
"Rin," a veiled woman murmured beside him. Her face was hidden behind dark silver silk, only her glowing sapphire eyes visible beneath the hood. "The elders won't be pleased. He's a stranger."
Rin, the medic, turned to face her, his expression sharp beneath his calm.
"I don't give a damn what the elders think," he said, his eyes glowing a deeper, stormier blue. "If there's even the slightest chance I can save someone's life, I'll take that fucking chance. Tell the elders whatever you want. I won't leave him to die like he's some sort of animal."
The woman hesitated, then swallowed and gave a silent nod, falling into step behind the others.
As the group moved through the jungle, following one another for over four hours, they dispatched several small beasts along the way. Eventually, they arrived at the base of a mountain—where the mountainside shifted with a low rumble, revealing a wide, hidden passage into the rock.
Inside, a concealed village came into view. Mansions constructed of aged wood stood proudly, flanked by tall towers of the same material. Each building was protected by its own gated perimeter, all contained within a larger fortified gate that ran along the inner wall of the mountain. Lanterns swung gently from ropes strung between homes, casting warm light across the stone paths. Children with matching features—azure-blue hair and sapphire eyes—ran excitedly through the streets, pausing as they spotted the returning group.
"I'm sorry, little ones," Rin called out, smiling gently, "but I don't have time to talk right now. There's a life I need to do my best to save."
The children nodded, understanding, and began bombarding the others in the group with questions as Rin and the five men carrying Zay rushed toward the medical center.
The building was large, made of lighter-colored wood with a smooth sliding door. They burst through the entrance and moved quickly through the halls, pushing open the first available room. The five men gently lowered Zay onto the bed.
Rin immediately went to work. He placed two masks over his face—one made of silk, the other of reinforced leather. He then donned three pairs of silk gloves, layering a fourth and final set of thick, dark grey leather gloves over them. The other men followed his lead, equipping themselves in the same meticulous fashion.
All five of them had trained in medical arts and now faced a critical test—to use everything they knew to keep this man alive.
One of them reached for the silver sheath resting in Zay's grasp. The moment it left his hand, the sheath grew unnaturally heavy. Within seconds, the man buckled under the weight and collapsed to the floor, the katana slipping free and clattering onto its side.
"Leave it. We don't have time," Rin ordered sharply.
The man scrambled to his feet, abandoning the sheath where it lay, and returned to his position.
Inside a dimly lit chamber carved into the heart of the mountain, the woman that Zay had met, knelt respectfully on both knees. The flickering light of blue lanterns danced across the polished stone floor, casting soft shadows on the faces of the nine figures before her.
Seven of them were aged—elders whose skin bore the wear of years. Their auras radiated quietly, steady and vast like still oceans. The remaining two were younger, around Jade's age, but sat with the same reverence and authority.
She bowed her head low. "Elders," she greeted, addressing all nine with equal respect.
One of the older elders leaned forward, his eyes narrow with thought. "Is it true," he asked, voice dry as parchment, "that the silver katana responded to the boy your group recovered?"
The woman hesitated. "I… I'm not entirely certain. But there's no other explanation for how he could've slain Tharvul." She paused, eyes drifting to the side. "That said… there was no body. No remains of Tharvul at the scene. It's hard to confirm anything."
Another elder, voice heavy with the weight of memory, spoke. "Jade… you know how sacred that katana is. It belongs to us all. If word spreads that an outsider—someone not of our blood—has been the first in centuries to be deemed worthy…" He trailed off, concern knitting deep into his brow. "I don't know what to make of this."
Before he could continue, one of the younger elders—his posture tense—interjected. "We cannot let that sword fall into the hands of someone outside this clan. We have—"
"Enough."
The room fell into silence as the voice of another elder cut clean through the tension. His frame was smaller, but his presence was undeniable. Two faint, dark horns curled from his temples, and his ears were long and pointed like an elf's. Shadows coiled at his feet, yet his voice was steady and unwavering.
"Such traditions should've died long ago," he said, eyes locked with the others. "If the sword chose him, then it chose him. That was the decree… written by the king himself." He paused. "Before the king took his own life… on that terrible night."
Silence hung in the air like fog. None of the other elders spoke. Even the most stubborn among them lowered their eyes. All turned back to Jade.
"If the boy survives," one of the female elders said at last, brushing her hand through the air dismissively, "you will bring him here. Immediately."
"Yes, Elder," Jade said, rising to her feet. Her sapphire eyes returning with the light blue hue of aura, surrounding her eyes.
She stepped back, bowed again, and turned toward the large wooden door at the rear of the chamber. As it opened and closed behind her, the echo of her steps faded, swallowed by the stillness of the sacred mountain.