116 Years Ago — Edo PeriodThe throne room was silent.
Silent… except for the soft crackle of frozen corpses beneath the ice.
Sitting on a jagged throne made entirely of solid blue ice, the Dragonprone rested his chin on his hand. His breath curled in front of him like smoke as he stared at his reflection in the frozen wall—cold, sharp, emotionless.
He rose slowly.
His black kimono brushed against the frost-coated floor as he walked toward the entrance of the palace.
When he stepped outside, the world that greeted him was nothing but a white graveyard.
The once-vibrant kingdom had been transformed into a monument of suffering homes encased in ice. Streets sealed beneath thick, unmelting frost. Civilians collapsed in the snow—starved, dehydrated, lifeless Entire families frozen mid-motion like statues
To him, it was beautiful.
A masterpiece.
The Dragonprone inhaled deeply, savoring the lifeless winter air.
Then he raised something glittering high into the sky—
the king's crown.
He placed it on his own head and smiled.
The smile of a creature who believed himself victorious.
A god.
And with that, he walked away.
Leaving the frozen kingdom behind.
Present DayThe train carrying Shoto and the Dragonprone drifted farther and farther away—
its front half torn from the rear carriage in a brutal, metallic scream.
Snow and wind swirled violently as the distance between the cars grew.
On the remaining half of the train, the two White Veil members stepped forward.
Their movements were synchronized, unnervingly graceful.
They pulled down their scarves just enough to reveal the bottom halves of their faces, sharp jawlines thin, cold lips expressions void of empathy, Monsters wearing human shapes.
The tall man bowed with theatrical flair, one hand sweeping outward like a deranged noble.
"White Veil Order — 7th Seat.
Name's Jyn."
His lips curled into a manic grin.
"Lover of chaos, violence… and beautifully shattered bones."
He spun a curved dagger effortlessly around his fingers before pointing it straight at Tetsuya.
"And YOU—"
His golden eyes sparkled with madness.
"—are going to be my entertainment."
The second figure stepped forward.
Shorter, calmer, more lethal.
She tapped her white staff on the metal floor.
KA-CRACK—!!
A perfect ring of frost exploded outward from the impact, spreading in elegant patterns as the metal beneath them froze solid.
She bowed with precise, almost ceremonial elegance.
"White Veil Order — 4th Seat.
"Mira."
Her voice was steady, emotionless.
"I will eliminate the red-haired one."
Yuumo's jaw dropped.
She looked at Hina, then back at Mira—
"Hina, I don't think this is—"
Hikaru instantly slapped a hand over Yuumo's mouth.
"Yuumo. Stop. Please."
Then he turned to Hina with a forced smile.
"Hina, maybe you shouldn't fight. You've had a long day. You're our student council president—"
Hina spit her gum out the broken train window, then slowly cracked her neck.
"I don't like your boring attitude."
Mira blinked.
Hikaru froze.
Tetsuya smirked.
Ryuji whispered, "She's gonna murder someone."
Hikaru gritted his teeth.
"Tetsuya, Hina—do not take them lightly."
Tetsuya didn't look back.
"I'm good."
Hina rolled her shoulders, stepping forward.
"So am I."
The front half of the train—carrying only Shoto and the Dragonprone—shrunk farther and farther into the white storm.
The wind whipped Shoto's hair violently.
Frozen snowflakes stung his cheeks like needles.
Behind him, Yumiko clung desperately to his arm.
"S-Shoto… what if they—what if you—"
Shoto didn't answer.
He couldn't.
His eyes narrowed, cold as the storm around him, locking on the Dragonprone standing atop the opposite train car roof—an ancient predator framed by swirling frost.
Shoto spoke softly, but his voice cut through the wind.
"…What is your game?"
Ryuji scrambled up onto the cargo roof behind him, panting hard.
"Phew—made it! Battz-Kazami! Lil' sis! You two okay—?!"
Shoto didn't hear him.
He didn't blink.
He didn't breathe.
All of his focus was pulled toward the creature watching him with that crooked, spine-chilling grin.
The Dragonprone's voice rolled out like thunder.
"The name is Shino.
Shino Tagiruo Obagino."
He raised his broken spear toward the sky.
"Remember it…
when I slice you clean in half."
A sudden gust swept across the train.
Snowflakes drifted down lazily—
then heavier—
then violently, like needles from the heavens.
The air twisted, growing sharper and colder with every heartbeat.
Frost crawled across the train roof.
Ice crept up the rails.
Mountain wind roared like a siren.
Within seconds, the temperature plunged toward lethal levels.
And Shoto knew—
this was only the beginning.
Shoto exhaled slowly.
White steam curled upward from his lips.
Black scales spread across his cheekbones like war paint.
Crimson veins pulsed through his gauntlets like beating hearts.
He stepped forward.
Once.
Twice.
Then vanished.
Shino's eyes widened ever so slightly.
"—!"
Shoto reappeared right in front of him, grabbing Shino's chestplate with his left hand.
At the same instant, Shoto thrust his right arm behind him.
FWOOOOOM—!!!
Dark flames erupted like jet thrusters, spiraling outward in demonic wings.
The blast launched both of them off the cargo car—
hurtling into the snowstorm.
They crashed onto the frozen ground outside, rolling across solid ice.
Shoto landed first.
He didn't hesitate.
CRACK—!!!
His fist smashed across Shino's jaw.
The shockwave echoed across the mountain like thunder.
Shino's head snapped to the side, ice flinging from his skin as he skidded backward—
boots carving trenches into the frost.
Shoto stood tall, gauntlets steaming.
His voice was low.
Cold.
Deadly calm.
"I told you…"
He stepped forward.
"Stay away from them."
Shino slid across the ground until his boots dug deep into the forming ice.
For a heartbeat—
silence.
Then a horrible sound escaped him.
A growl.
A laugh.
A snarl.
A sound that didn't belong to anything human.
Shino lifted his head.
Ice cracked along his jawline as a twisted, feral grin spread across his face.
"So that's how it is, Kazami…" he rasped, voice trembling with excitement.
"You want a real fight."
Shoto didn't move.
His gauntlets crackled with dark heat.
The red veins glowed brighter, pulsing faster.
Shino ashed frost from his shoulder as if dusting off snow.
"Fine."
He raised his spear.
And the world changed.
The wind died.
The snow froze mid-air—
suspended like glittering shards of glass.
The air itself shattered with a crystalline crack.
Shoto staggered, pain stabbing into his lungs from the instant drop in temperature.
"What… is this—?"
Shino's chest expanded.
Mist bled from his mouth, swirling upward like smoke from a dragon's nostrils.
Then—
FWOOM—!!!Blue flames erupted from around Shino's body.
Except they weren't flames.
They were Icelock Aura—
a Dragonprone's true power.
Cold so dense it moved like burning fire.
The aura raged outward, swallowing the landscape.
"Let me show you," Shino snarled,
"what a TRUE Dragonprone is capable of."
The frost spread.
Trees froze solid mid-sway.
The air crackled like thin glass.
The ground beneath Shoto hardened instantly—
freezing him in place.
His boots locked into the ice.
"Shit—!" Shoto gasped.
Shino pointed his spear.
"Frost Monarch Art—
Hallowed Winter Pulse."
The ground EXPLODED—
a tidal wave of blue frost racing straight at Shoto, carrying with it brute force and killing intent
Shoto slammed his gauntlets together—
BOOOOM—!!!Dark flames blasted from his elbows.
The force hurled him sideways just in time as the frost-wave annihilated the ground where he'd stood.
The entire landscape turned to crystal dust.
Shino's laughter echoed through the storm.
Shoto crashed onto his knee, panting hard.
His breath froze instantly.
His fingers numbed even beneath the gauntlets.
Frost crawled up his legs.
His bloodstream felt sluggish.
His vision blurred.
(Body… freezing… Need to move—)
He looked down and saw ice clutching his calves, creeping higher—
"Damn—!"
Suddenly—
CRACK—!!!A spear tip stabbed out of the ice next to his face, inches from skewering him.
Before Shino could finish him—
—Ryuji arrived.
"SHOTO!!"
Ryuji soared through the air—
the Earth Sword gripped tightly in his hand.
The blade morphed mid-flight—
shifting into stone-plated boxing gloves.
Ryuji crashed down between Shoto and Shino.
"EARTH—COUNTER!!!"
BOOOOOM—!!!
He slammed both fists into the frozen ground.
The earth erupted upward—
jagged spikes shooting straight toward Shino.
Shino stepped back, unimpressed.
Every spike froze solid on impact, turning to crystal statues.
Ryuji didn't flinch.
The moment the ice cracked—he grabbed Shoto's frozen body, ripping him out of the frost, hoisting him over his shoulder.
"YUMIKO! COME ON!!"
Yumiko scrambled toward them, eyes wide, freezing tears streaking down her face.
Ryuji scooped her with his other arm.
"I GOT YOU BOTH—DON'T LOOK BACK!!"
He sprinted full-speed toward the remaining train cars.
Shino's eyes narrowed.
He crouched, ready to chase—
But—
A shadow fell across the snow.
Footsteps.
Cold.
Heavy.
Authoritative.
The White Veil's leader—tall, masked, draped in ceremonial white—walked toward Shino without a sound.
"Enough, Shino."
Shino froze.
Aura flickering.
Hatred still burning.
But he lowered his spear.
Breathing hard.
The wind stilled as the White Veil Leader approached, each step deliberate and soundless. The blizzard seemed to part for him, bending away as if the storm itself was bowing. His mask was simple yet impossibly heavy in presence—a single black line slashing down the center, a mark of authority so absolute it chilled more than the cold.
Shino remained standing, spear trembling with residual frost. His breath came out in ragged clouds.
"You disobeyed," the Leader said quietly, barely above a whisper. Yet the words hit Shino like the weight of an avalanche.
Shino didn't bow. His jaw clenched.
"He was right in front of me," he hissed. "You expect me to ignore that? You expect me to stand idle while Remedus's reincarnation stands alive? Breathing? Mocking my clan by existing?"
The Leader stepped closer, the snow crunching beneath his boots.
"The Order's plan," he said, "is not shaped by your vengeance."
Shino's eyes burned frost-blue with hatred.
"He took everything from me. My family. My clan. Our home. I refuse to let his bloodline—"
The Leader raised a single finger.
Instantly, Shino's body buckled. A crushing force pinned him down, forcing him onto one knee. His ribs creaked. Frost crawled up his arms. His spear nearly slipped from his grasp.
"You forget your place," the Leader murmured. "You are a soldier of the Veil. Not a feral beast."
Shino gasped for breath as the weight increased. Thin cracks split across the ice beneath him.
"We need the reincarnated king alive," the Leader continued. "If you kill him now, our century of planning becomes ash."
The pressure suddenly vanished.
Shino collapsed forward, gripping the ice to steady himself, breath trembling. Though defeated in the moment, his glare remained wild and burning.
"…Understood," he forced out.
The Leader turned towards the direction Ryuji had taken Shoto. His cloak fluttered like a phantom.
"Come. There is more to accomplish before the boy awakens."
One last look at Shoto's retreating form twisted Shino's face into a silent promise of violence.
"This isn't over," he growled.
In the front half of the train, moving, chaos reigned.
Jyn, now fully unmasked below the eyes, laughed like someone who found delight in their own madness. His golden eyes shimmered with an unnatural hunger.
"Well now," he said, stepping lightly as if dancing on a stage. "It's just you and me, redhead junior."
Tetsuya cracked his fingers and rolled his shoulders.
"You talk too much," he muttered. "Let's cut the drama."
Jyn vanished.
A whisper of air brushed Tetsuya's cheek. He barely ducked in time—Jyn's dagger sliced past his face, close enough to shear off a strand of hair.
Jyn reappeared behind him, leaning on his own blade as if bored.
"Ohhh? You actually dodged. How delightful."
Tetsuya spun around and threw a kick which Jyn slipped away from effortlessly, sliding across the floor like living silk.
".." Tetsuya hops back down and rushes forward slamming his forehead into Jyn's mask with a brutally loud crack. Jyn stumbled back, laughing hysterically even as blood dripped from beneath the mask.
"OOOHOHO! BEAUTIFUL!"
He lunged again with wild, unpredictable ferocity, and Tetsuya met him kick for slash, the train shaking from the impact of their strikes.
Near the opposite end of the car, Hina faced Mira with the kind of relaxed posture that didn't match the violence surrounding them. Her hands were still in her pockets. Her expression is unreadable.
Mira observed her with cold, calculating eyes. Frost gathered around her feet in a slowly expanding circle.
"You were assigned to me," Mira said simply. "Not for strength. But because those who panic in battle must be removed first."
Hina cracked her gum.
"Yeah whatever. Let's get this over with."
tapped her staff.
A burst of ice exploded outward. The entire train floor disappeared beneath a sheet of frost—but Hina moved barely an inch, just enough to let the wave pass her with a whisper.
Mira blinked once.
"You predicted the radius."
"No," Hina replied. "I just moved because I felt like it."
"You're mocking me."
"Yeah."
Mira appeared behind her in a flicker, staff thrusting forward like a spear of winter—but Hina shifted a shoulder, letting the attack miss by a hair.
"You're starting to piss me off!"
Ryuji sprinted through the snow, breath ragged, the cold biting at his lungs. Shoto hung limp over his shoulder, his skin pale, half-frozen. Yumiko clung to his side, desperately trying to keep Shoto warm with her own body heat.
The broken half of the train had finally slowed to a stop. The others—Yuumo, Ren, Hikaru—jumped down from the shattered doors, rushing to meet him.
"Ryuji!" Hikaru shouted. "You got him! Is he—?"
"He's alive," Ryuji wheezed. "But he's basically a Shoto-shaped ice cube. Someone warm him!"
Yumiko knelt beside Shoto instantly, pulling him into her lap. Her hands cupped his cheeks, her forehead pressed to his.
"Shoto… Shoto, please wake up… please…"
His breath was faint. Ice clung to his lashes. Frost crawled along his jaw.
Yuumo trembled as she draped her blanket over him. "Why does he look like a popsicle?!"
Ren paced in circles. "Guys, the others are still fighting inside—what if Tetsuya and Hina—"
A gust of wind cut him off.
Cold. Sharp. Silent.
A shadow fell across the group.
Yumiko froze mid-breath.
Ryuji slowly looked up.
The air stilled.
Snow paused in midair—as if time itself was holding its breath.
Hikaru's fingers twitched toward his quiver.
".. it's him.."
Two figures stood on the snow as if they had always been there.
The White Veil Leader.
And Shino.
The Leader's presence was suffocating—calm, commanding, impossibly cold. His white cloak fluttered with the nonexistent wind, mask glowing faintly under the storm clouds.
Shino stood beside him, spear in hand, aura seeping frost like smoke. His eyes glowed with pure hatred the moment they met Shoto's unconscious face.
Yuumo's voice cracked.
"H-How… how did they get here so fast…?!"
"They never left the storm," Hikaru murmured, pushing his glasses up with shaking fingers. "They… walked through it."
The Leader's masked gaze swept across the group, lingering on each of them as if evaluating livestock.
Then he spoke.
"Step away from him."
Yumiko tightened her hold on Shoto instinctively, pulling him closer. "No. He needs help."
The Leader tilted his head slightly.
"It was not a request."
Ryuji stepped forward, fists clenched, his breath steaming in the freezing air.
"You're not touching him."
Shino stepped forward.
The snow beneath him froze into blue crystal.
"If you value your bones," he growled, "move aside."
Ryuji didn't move.
He pressed his foot into the frozen ground and forced it to crack. "Come take him, then."
The Leader raised a hand.
Shino froze mid-step—
not because of fear,
but because he was ordered to stop.
The Leader lowered his head slightly, mask angled toward Ryuji.
"You misunderstand," he said. "If I wanted him… I would have him already."
Hikaru's bowstring tightened.
"Then what are you here for?"
The Leader answered without hesitation.
"To warn you."
Everyone flinched.
Hina and Tetsuya burst out from the back of the cargo car at that moment, both panting, bruised, and irritated.
They skidded to a halt when they saw the two figures waiting for them.
"Tch—what now?!" Tetsuya barked.
Jyn was nowhere to be seen.
Kira's frost imprint was still on Hina's jacket.
"Who the hell is that..?"
The Leader's voice remained calm. "We came to observe."
Ren blinked. "Observe what…?"
The Leader stepped forward, his presence freezing the air itself. None of them moved—because none of them could. Every instinct in their bodies screamed to run, to hide, to breathe quieter.
But the Leader didn't hesitate.
With a single motion, impossibly fast and impossibly gentle, he swept Shoto from Yumiko's lap and lifted him into his arms. Yumiko, already faint from shock and cold, collapsed unconscious beside him the moment her hands left Shoto's body.
The Leader lowered himself to one knee and rested Shoto across his lap, as if handling something sacred.
"We shall be taking him now."
Those words snapped the group out of their paralysis.
Hikaru reacted first.
He drew his bow and water sword in one fluid motion. The elemental blade glowed a deep ocean blue before melting into liquid that spiraled around the arrow.
"Hikaru—!" Ryuji shouted.
But the arrow was already released.
A roaring dragon of water soared toward the Leader, jaws open wide, tearing through the air with a violent hiss—
Only for it to freeze solid mid-flight.
Every droplet turned to ice.
Its serpentine form shattered against the ground like glass.
Hikaru's eye twitched.
"Tch…!"
Ren charged next.
His lightning sword crackled, illuminating the snow with violent arcs. In a burst of speed, he vanished from the front lines and reappeared behind the Leader.
"DON'T TOUCH HIM—!!"
Ren swung the lightning blade toward the Leader's unguarded back.
But the Leader didn't even turn his head.
Ice erupted from his spine like a shield, blocking the blade effortlessly. Sparks sputtered helplessly against the frozen wall.
Ren's pupils widened.
Before he could withdraw, the Leader rotated—smooth, effortless—and seized Ren's ankle with one hand.
"Impulsive."
He swung Ren like a rag doll.
Ren flew through the air and crashed straight into Hikaru, sending both tumbling into a heap of limbs and broken pride.
Yuumo screamed.
She sprinted forward, Proto Sword in hand. The blade vibrated, emitting a low hum, before transforming—expanding—reshaping—
A massive hand-held bazooka locked into place at her shoulder.
"D-DON'T YOU TOUCH THEM!!"
She pulled the trigger.
A blazing shot burst forth, lighting the snow in orange flame.
It struck the Leader dead center—
And dissolved into harmless steam before even touching his cloak.
Yuumo froze.
Wide-eyed.
Unable to breathe.
His mask slowly tilted toward her.
"That weapon," he said softly, "is not meant for you."
Yuumo stumbled back in terror. Her legs gave out. She fell onto the snow, hands trembling violently.
Behind her, Ren and Hikaru struggled to stand. Tetsuya and Hina forced themselves into combat stance despite their injuries, breath heaving, blood dripping down their faces.
The Leader didn't acknowledge them.
He lifted Shoto carefully, as if carrying a sleeping prince.
"Jyn. Mira. We're leaving."
Two figures materialized from the shadows behind him instantly.
Jyn's manic grin glimmered through the falling snow, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Mira—Kira by codename—stood at his side, stoic and unreadable, frost still clinging to her hair.
"We're done here," the Leader said.
The three White Veil elites turned their backs to the group—Shoto in the Leader's arms, Yumiko limp in Mira's.
Not one of Shoto's friends could move.
Not one could speak.
Not one could breathe.
All they could do was stare helplessly as the enemy vanished into the storm, taking two of their own.
Shoto.
And Yumiko.
The whole group remained frozen in place, the cold crawling deep into their bones.
The Leader's final words echoed across the snow:
"Tonight's mercy will not be repeated."
And then—
They were gone.
Yuumo was the first to scream.
"They took them— THEY TOOK THEM BOTH—!!"
Her voice cracked and dissolved into sobs as she punched the snow in frustration. Ren stroked his bruised jaw, eyes dark, anger simmering beneath the pain. Hikaru stared at the ground, bow clutched so tightly his knuckles turned white. Ryuji's hands were still frozen mid-reach, as if he could grab Shoto back through sheer willpower. Tetsuya shoved his hands in his pockets. Hina, expression usually unreadable, trembled slightly. The wind cut across her face, but she didn't blink.
Neko would walk out of the cargo "Everyone. Shut up and get your heads straight."
All eyes turned.
Neko stood in the snow, tail flicking sharply, mini bow still strapped to his back. His fur bristled with frost, his ears twitching with irritation and fear he refused to show.
Neko hopped onto a chunk of broken train metal, raising himself so he could glare down at all of them like an angry general.
"You're all acting like you've already lost," he snapped. "That's not going to save Shoto. Or Yumiko."
Yuumo sniffed, wiping her eyes. "B-But… they took them… they took—"
"And you're going to get them back."
Neko's voice cracked like a whip.
"That so-called Leader didn't kill you. That means he isn't done with Shoto. That means you still have time." Neko pointed toward the mountain.
"We go after them. Now. Before they reach the fortress peak."
Hikaru looked directly at Mount Fiji. "We gotta hurry then, to whatever the hell they are going to do to Shoto."
Neko's tail flicked again.
"Shoto is the reincarnated king of Natis. The Zamorak Sword chose him. And the White Veil wants him alive. That means he's valuable—and that means they won't kill him before he wakes up."
Ren rubbed his face. "That's not comforting…"
"It's strategic."
Neko turned to them, voice serious.
"You won't get a second chance. This world is going to turn into ice, if we don't stop them and that dragonprone it's all over." Hina slid her hands into her pockets, gaze sharpening. "Let's go."
Ryuji kicked the snow. "We promised we'd protect him. I'm not breaking that now."
Yuumo nodded furiously, though tears still streamed. "We're saving them both."
Hikaru steadied his bow.
Ren would sheath his lightning sword.
Tetsyya would begin to walk in another Direction and Hina decided to follow them as they begun to make their way to Mount Fiji
Far above them, hidden behind frost and storm—
Shoto's eyes snapped open.
Cold air ripped into his lungs like needles.
He gasped, sitting upright—only to feel icy chains yank at his wrists. He coughed violently, steam rising from his mouth as the last of Shino's frost left his bloodstream.
His vision blurred at first…
then sharpened.
He was inside a chamber built entirely of stone and ice. Blue fire torches burned along the walls, casting long shadows that twisted like living things. Strange symbols—ancient, jagged, pulsating—were carved around the room.
His head pounded. His body ached with cold and power swelling inside him. The black scales on his cheekbones were already gone, he's back to his timid self.
Far above the blizzard, hidden behind frost and storm, Shoto's consciousness clawed its way back from the cold.
His eyes snapped open.
A violent gasp tore from his throat as freezing air stabbed down his lungs like needles. He sat upright on instinct—
CLINK—!!
The motion was yanked short.
Icy chains snapped taut around his wrists, biting into his skin. Shoto coughed hard, white steam pouring from his lips as the remnants of Shino's frost tore free from his veins.
His vision wavered. The whole world looked smeared—shadows curling, lights flickering—until finally the blur settled.
Cold reality set in.
He wasn't outdoors anymore.
He sat inside a chamber carved from pure stone and ice, like a dungeon built inside a glacier.
Blue flames flickered in torch sconces along the walls, burning without heat. Their light stretched into twisted shapes, like living shadows reaching toward him.
Ancient symbols—jagged, uneven, pulsing with faint blue energy—decorated the ice. They felt heavy, old, oppressive, as if they were carved long before any human kingdom existed.
Shoto's head throbbed.
His fingers trembled.
The black scales on his face were gone.
The power he forced out earlier had vanished.
He was himself again:
Timid.
Small.
Cold.
Terrified.
A voice rose from the darkness behind him.
"You finally awake."
Shoto's entire body jerked.
Footsteps echoed across the frozen stone as the Leader of the White Veil emerged from the shadows—white cloak gliding behind him, mask obscuring everything but an aura of absolute authority.
He crouched before Shoto, meeting him at eye level.
His tone was calm. Too calm.
"Once Shino enacts his revenge," he said, "it's over for you."
Shoto stiffened, breath hitching.
"But," the Leader continued, rising slowly, "you, Shoto Kazami… are the key to something far greater than revenge."
He lifted something in his hand—something black, crimson-veined, and cold as death.
The Zamorak Sword.
Then he dropped it.
The sound echoed like a coffin closing.
"You were reborn with the blood of a Zamorak," the Leader said. "A mythical lineage. A curse. A gift. Nobody understands it. Not even I."
His masked face tilted slightly.
"Mythical creatures rarely reveal their secrets."
Shoto pulled hard against the frost-chains, fear rising in his throat like a drowning wave.
"W-Where… Where is Yumiko…?"
The Leader turned his head to the left.
Shoto followed his gaze.
Yumiko lay on a bed of white furs, unconscious but unharmed. Her cheeks were faintly pink from the cold, her chest rising and falling softly.
Shoto sagged with relief, eyes burning.
"Thank god…" he whispered.
But his relief lasted only a moment.
Because the Leader stepped closer, shadows swallowing half his face.
"Shoto Kazami," he said, voice low, "whatever you were before does not matter. Not to us. Not to the world. Not to the mountain. And not to the power inside you."
Shoto stared at the ground, trembling.
"Look…" he whispered, "…I don't know anything about what happened decades ago."
His voice cracked.
"But I am not him. Whoever he was… whatever he did… I'm not that person. I'm not that king. And I never will be."
Silence filled the frozen chamber.
The torches flickered.
Wind howled outside the stone walls.
The Leader said nothing at first.
Just watched him.
Observed him.
Measured him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was a cold whisper.
"We shall see."
And the chamber seemed to grow colder.
The Leader stood above him like a statue carved from winter itself—unmoving, cold, unreadable.
Then, without warning, he reached up with a gloved hand.
Shoto tensed.
In one slow motion, the Leader lifted his mask and pulled it away from his face.
The air changed instantly.
This was no ordinary reveal.
No simple unmasking.
It felt like a centuries-long secret was finally being peeled open.
Beneath the mask, his face appeared:
Skin pale as snow.
Jaw sharp and defined.
Hair long, silver-white, tied at the base of his neck.
Eyes piercing—mercury-silver, ancient, calm, and frighteningly intelligent.
Eyes that held both wisdom and immeasurable grief.
Shoto's heart skipped a beat.
The Leader—Kazuki—looked down at him with the expression of someone who had carried a burden far longer than any human deserved.
"Soon this world would be frozen, and the area of the Dragonprone would be revived.."
Footsteps echoed behind him.
Shino stepped into the room, spear resting against his shoulder, frost trailing with each step.
His golden-blue eyes widened when he saw the Leader unmasked.
"And Shino would kill you where you stand.."
Far from the prison chamber where Shoto lay chained, deeper still beneath the frozen stone of the White Veil fortress, a silent door slid open with a breath of frost.
Inside was a chamber lit not by torches, but by floating crystals—each one pulsing with a heartbeat of pale blue light. The air hummed with ancient magic, older than the Veil, older than the mountain itself.
This room was forbidden to all except the core members.
The Room of Unveiling.
One by one, the White Veil filed inside.
Kazuki was not with them.
Shino was not with them.
This gathering belonged to the Veil alone.
The frost door sealed shut behind them with a hollow echo.
The chamber immediately responded—runes glowing, crystals rising higher. A magic circle burned across the floor, marking the room active.
Jyn entered first, his laughter cut short by the sanctity of the chamber. Without hesitation, he reached up and removed his mask, revealing a long scar across his left cheek and a pair of eyes that glimmered like cracked sunlight.
"Well," he said, leaning back against a crystalline pillar, "our illustrious leader finally let the king-boy see his real face. Took him long enough."
Mira stepped past him in silence. She removed her own mask—smooth, slow, careful. Her features were ethereal, almost statuesque, with an expression unreadable even without her veil.
"Mock him again, Jyn," she said softly, "and I will freeze your tongue to the wall."
"Promises, promises," Jyn grinned.
Three more members entered behind them.
First came the woman with geometric frost tattoos under her eyes. When she removed her mask, her breath curled in elegant spirals, every exhale crystallizing midair.
Next came the frostbitten man—pale gray skin, one blind eye, half his face carved by old battles against forces only the Veil knew existed.
Last was the youngest among them—a quiet boy, white-haired, expression blank. His eyes were like cloudy glass, reflecting no light at all. When he removed his mask, he did so with both hands, reverently, as if it were his only possession of value.
The boy spoke first.
"Are we certain this is safe? Leader Kazuki does not approve of removing our identities outside council gatherings."
The tattooed woman replied.
"Kazuki is the one who ordered the preparation. And the preparation requires truth."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Even truth we hide from him."
The frostbitten man grunted. "The mountain is waking. The reincarnated king is stirring too fast. We need to discuss our approach."
Jyn snorted. "Approach? I say we go all in. The brat has power he doesn't understand. Easy pickings."
Mira stepped closer to him.
"He just survived Shino's frost," she said. "He might've awakened that power a long time ago. Do not underestimate him again."
Jyn's grin twitched into a scowl for a moment—but he didn't argue.
The tattooed woman folded her arms.
"In any case both Shino and Kazuki are blind. That boy doesn't even know the entirety of Shoto Remedus' past Life."
"Do you think the king… the old king… is truly inside that boy?"
Mira didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked into the floating crystals as if hoping for answers.
"What I think," she said finally, "is irrelevant. What matters is this: the moment he awakens fully, this world will completely be frozen."
The frostbitten man placed his cracked hands on the glowing table at the center of the chamber.
"Then we act before the world does."
The crystals dimmed, sensing the shift in the room.
Jyn twirled a knife between his fingers.
"Leader Kazuki wants the boy's blood. But we know better."
He leaned forward, smile turning sharp.
"We end the child before this so called king returns."
The quiet boy swallowed. "But Kazuki—"
"Is not here," the tattooed woman cut in.
Their voices lowered, unified by a cold purpose.
"The Veil must protect the world. Even from our Leader's hesitation."
Mira closed her fist.
The crystals above them glowed brighter.
"Then it's decided."
She looked at each of them—scarred, silent, monstrous.
"Three days from now, when Kazuki begins the king's trial… the Veil will begin its own trial as well."
Jyn's grin returned—wider, more twisted.
"Oh, this is going to be fun."
As they sealed their pact, a gust of icy wind spiraled through the chamber, snuffing out half the crystals.
fortress above, his friends had climbed halfway up Mount Fuji's frozen slope—unaware of the plans forming above them… or the danger creeping behind them.
The wind roared like a wild beast.
Snow cut sideways across the air.
Every breath burned their lungs.
But they finally found a narrow rocky overhang—half-sheltered from the storm—where they dropped their gear and began setting up a makeshift camp.
Ryuji slammed his pack down onto the snow.
"WHEW.. checkpoint! We gotta keep going soon!"
Hina stretched her shoulders.
"We should keep going. We've barely started."
"BARELY?!"
Ren yawned, plopping down against the wall of rock.
"It's cold. I'm tired. Wake me when we're there.."
Yuumo sat down and sighed.
"See? Let's just rest for the day."
Hikaru ignored them all, already rolling out a tarp and staking it down with sharpened ice arrows he conjured from his water sword.
"We camp here," he said. "When the Sun comes up we keep on going."
Hina crossed her arms and decided to rest her head on a rock.
Neko jumps onto Hina Shoulder, resting himself there. "How are we gonna start a fire when everything freezes?"
Ryuji groaned as he knelt to open his pack.
"Let's just eat first."
ZIP—!!
The bag burst open.
A small head popped out.
"SUP."
Everyone froze.
Ryuji screamed.
"E—E—ENDO?!"
Sitting in the middle of Ryuji's supplies—wrapped in a scarf, snow goggles, and holding a half-eaten rice ball—was Endo, waving like he was greeting neighbors across the street.
"Oh, for the love of—WHY IS THE CHILD HERE?!"
Endo crawled out of the bag, stuffing the rice ball into his mouth as he proudly dusted off his coat.
"Because I wanna help rescue Shoto! And the cat wasn't watching the door!"
"I—WHAT?!" Neko howled. "YOU LITTLE—HOW DID YOU EVEN—?!"
Endo puffed his chest.
"I was in there all day!"
Ryuji grabbed him by the shoulders.
"YOU HID IN MY BAG FOR THE ENTIRE DAY?!"
Endo gave an innocent smile.
"Yup."
"You ate my snacks—?!"
Endo nodded proudly.
"Yup."
Ryuji pointed at Endi the stared at the others.
"I can kill this kid right?"
Hina sighed, rubbing her temples.
"No. He's here now. It's not like we're going all the back to Kyoto."
Ryuji pointed at Endo with trembling fury.
"YOU ARE STAYING. RIGHT. NEXT. TO ME."
Endo saluted.
"Aye-aye!"
Just then, a massive gust of wind blasted across the camp.
Someone is approaching. the frostbitten man—pale gray skin, one blind eye, half his face carved by old battles would quickly dive down towards the group's location.
A moment of silence passed.
Then—
WROOOOOOM—!!!
A savage gust of wind slammed into the cliffside, nearly snuffing their fragile flame. Snow exploded upward like a burst of white fire. The air snapped with pressure.
Above the cliffside, barely visible through the blinding snow—
A silhouette tore through the blizzard like a descending demon.
Not falling.
Diving.
Straight toward them.
The air warped around him.
Frost spiraled violently from his limbs.
The wind bent to his presence.
A man with pale gray skin.
One blind, frozen eye.
Half his face is carved by the scars of ancient war.
He wore the white cami of the Veil.
He hit the ground less than ten feet from them, ice exploding outward in a circular shockwave. The snowstorm itself recoiled from the impact.
The frostbitten man stood slowly—towering, frozen breath curling like smoke.
His one good eye locked onto them with murderous intent.
"…all of you are children," he said, voice low and cracking like frozen stone.
Before anyone could speak—
fwip—!!
Everyone blinked.
And then they saw him—
Endo was sitting on the frostbitten man's head.
"WHOA!! SO COOL!! LOOK AT ALL THESE SCARS!"
He grabbed the man's ear.
Poked his cheek.
Started counting the frost cracks like they were souvenirs.
Hikaru completely lost composure.
"ENDO!! GET DOWN RIGHT NOW—!!"
The frostbitten man did not hesitate.
His arm moved once.
A blur.
A whip of motion.
CRACK—!!!
He snatched Endo by the jacket and hurled him across the campsite with monstrous strength.
Endo hit a rock so hard it exploded into fragments, shards of stone scattering across the snow.
The world went still.
Everyone—
Hikaru, Yuumo, Ren, Hina, Ryuji, even Neko—
froze in paralyzing horror.
The frostbitten man—Seven—straightened his back, towering over them like death wearing human skin.
"My name is Seven," he said. "And this little adventure you're on… is over."
His voice was final.
A verdict.
A death sentence.
And at that exact moment—
Something small rolled across the snow.
Endo's book.
Its cracked leather cover flapped open, pages fluttering wildly in the icy wind like frantic wings, as if the book itself were terrified.
The wind sharpened.
Deepened.
Intensified.
The pages spun.
Faster—
Faster—
Faster—!
FWOOOOOM—!!
A burst of white light erupted from the shattered rock where Endo had landed, blasting snow and shards of ice into the air. Magic spiraled upward in twisting currents, bending the storm itself. The wind, the cold, the world—everything warped around the trembling book.
From the swirling glow—
A silhouette rose.
Tall.
Human.
Not a boy.
A teenager.
Sixteen years old.
Black jacket whipping in the blizzard.
Dark, travel-worn jeans.
Eyes sharp—older than his age—carrying exhaustion, edge, and a faint glow of rotating blue script.
He rubbed the back of his head as if waking from a bad dream.
"Ugh… why the hell is it so cold…?"
Smoke drifted around him in slow spirals.
Standing amidst shattered stone and frost-filled air…
was Endo.
Ten years older.
Pulled from the future.
Not the endearing chaos gremlin the group knew—
but a hardened version of him, aura pulsing with restrained lightning.
Spell-circles flickered along his fingers, burning like wildfire fighting its cage.
Seven's one good eye narrowed, a cold mist hissing from his lips.
"You… are not the same child."
Older Endo dusted his jacket with the bored annoyance of someone inconvenienced.
"What? What the hell are you talking about, old man…?"
Ryuji—still half in shock—shakily stood.
"Is this… a good thing or a bad thing…?"
Older Endo ignored him completely, groaning in a long, theatrical exhale that only a future, fed-up Endo could perfectly deliver.
"Great. Of all the timelines to get yanked into, it had to be THIS one… Past-me is always causing problems."
He jerked a thumb at the trail behind him.
"Anyway. You guys should go. I'll handle Mr. Freeze."
Seven's breath thickened, crystallizing in the air.
He lowered his spear, frost crawling up his arm like living armor.
"Now you have me. Come, boy. Before I kill the rest of them."
Hikaru didn't wait.
He had already vanished up the trail.
Ryuji grabbed Yuumo and sprinted after him.
Hina clamped a hand around Ren's collar, dragging him despite his protests.
Neko clung to her shoulder like a terrified winter scarf.
In seconds, the group disappeared into the blizzard— swallowed by snow and wind.
Older Endo watched them fade.
"…Good. That's one less variable."
Seven cracked his neck, ice spreading over his jawline like growing stone.
"Delaying death does not prevent it."
Endo shoved both hands deep into his pockets.
"You talk way too much."
Seven lunged.
A blur—
a beast—
a streak of killing frost.
But Endo—
vanished.
One blink—
and he was gone.
Seven spun around—
But Endo was already behind him, leaning in with an unimpressed expression.
"By the way, love the fashion sense. Frostbite chic. Very in style."
Seven snarled, swinging his spear in a savage horizontal arc meant to slice Endo clean in half—
But Endo slipped out of reality again.
Vanished.
And reappeared casually leaning against Seven's back, arms crossed.
"Jeez, watch where you swing that thing. You might hit yourself. Or me. And I'd be annoyed."
Seven swung his fist backward—
But Endo disappeared again, flickering like a skipping frame—
only to reappear in front of Seven and flick him on the forehead.
Tap.
The sound echoed louder than it had any right to.
Seven's jaw tightened.
A vein twitched near his temple.
"This," he growled, "is going to get annoying."
Endo smirked, blue runes lighting beneath his feet.
"Good."
He leaned forward, eyes sparking.
"That means we're just getting started."
The climb only grew more brutal the higher they went.
Snow blasted sideways in vicious, unrelenting sheets, stinging their skin like needles. The narrow mountain path twisted around a steep ridge so high that the world below was swallowed by a bottomless, white abyss.
Every breath hurt.
The cold sliced their lungs with every inhale.
Ryuji dragged himself forward, boots slipping wildly across the ice.
"I swear—this mountain is trying to KILL US!"
Yuumo hugged herself tightly, teeth nearly vibrating out of her skull.
"It is trying to kill us!!"
Ren stumbled, nearly sliding off the ridge before catching himself on sheer panic energy.
"WHY does the path keep getting narrower—?!"
Hina buried her spear into the frost, steadying herself.
"Shut up and focus. Screaming won't widen the mountain."
Hikaru glared through the storm.
"We don't have time to slow down. Shoto—"
But the wind cut him off.
The blizzard twisted.
Snow spiraled upward in a sudden vortex—violently, unnaturally.
A voice drifted through the storm.
Playful.
Cruel.
Excited.
"Hellooooo~ my little hikers."
The snow parted above.
Standing atop a jagged spike of ice—
was Jyn.
His long white cami fluttered like ribbons caught in the storm.
A curved dagger spun lazily between his fingers.
And his golden eyes—bright, deranged, hungry—locked onto the group like a predator choosing which toy to break first.
Everyone froze.
Jyn hopped off the ice pillar, landing on the narrow trail with perfect, mocking grace.
"Wowww~ You guys survived this far? I'm honestly impressed. Really!"
His grin widened unnaturally.
"But you won't survive the next ten minutes."
Hikaru scoffed, the sound sharp and cold.
"So Tetsuya wasn't enough for you?"
Ryuji added, "Yeah, didn't he beat the crap out of you?"
Jyn pressed a hand dramatically to his chest.
"Oh please. That? That was stretching. A light jog."
His grin sharpened.
"And he's not even here right now."
Before anyone could react further—
Soft footsteps entered the ridge.
Not loud enough to fight the storm.
Not timid enough to be human fear.
But precisely in-between.
A boy stepped out from behind Jyn.
Small.
Thin.
Maybe thirteen—practically Shoto's age.
Snow-white hair draped over his eyes, unmoved by the wind.
His face was carved blank, emotionless, perfectly still.
He carried no weapon.
He didn't need one.
Even the blizzard avoided him—as if the mountain itself feared touching him.
Hina whispered, "…What is that kid…?"
The boy lifted his head.
Just enough for them to see his eyes.
Dead.
Empty.
Emotionless.
Like staring into the hollow pupils of a corpse that never decayed.
Jyn's smile stretched even wider.
"Ah yes! I forgot to introduce my adorable teammate!"
He threw an arm around the boy's shoulders—
The boy didn't flinch.
Didn't blink.
Didn't acknowledge the touch in the slightest.
"This quiet cutie is Luno. Don't let the size fool you."
Jyn's voice dropped to a delighted purr.
"He's killed way more people than I have."
Yuumo stepped forward, her Proto Sword humming faintly as she activated it.
"Uggghh—shut up. Okay? I'll take care of the creepy kid."
Ryuji stepped forward too, cracking his knuckles as heat steamed from his breath.
"My blood's been boiling since the second I saw your ugly face, Jyn. I'll take you on!"
Ren rubbed the back of his head, sighing.
"I guess I can entertain you too… but only a bit."
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Hikaru! Hina! Neko! We can take it from here. You three go—get Shoto."
Hikaru hesitated, bow already drawn.
Hina's jaw tightened.
Neko stared with wide eyes, tail flicking nervously.
But the determination in Ren's voice…
The stubborn fire in Ryuji's eyes…
Yuumo's trembling but defiant stance…
They understood.
This was their fight.
Jyn's grin widened to the edge of madness.
"Ohhh, yes~! Let's play."
Luno simply stepped forward—
silent.
empty.
lethal.
The mountain ridge trembled beneath them.
The battle for the climb had begun.
Japan was no longer Japan.
It had become an imitation of Iceland's harshest nightmare.
Towns were unrecognizable—streets layered in pale blue frost, rooftops sagging under the weight of accumulating snow. Cars were trapped in solid blocks of ice. Homes resembled crystal coffins. One by one, civilians froze mid-step, mid-breath, mid-life—encased in shimmering ice sculptures that glittered like a cemetery of glass.
Sirens died out.
Voices faded.
The nation trembled.
Panic had become a physical force.
High above it all, from the icy balcony of the White Veil fortress, Kazuki watched with serene satisfaction.
Wind howled across the peaks, but his cloak didn't sway.
"With Shino's frost spreading across the landscape," Kazuki murmured, lowering his chin with a faint smirk,
"our plan will be complete within a day."
The sky cracked with shards of freezing wind, sweeping across the plains like the end of times.
Kazuki slowly turned toward the inner cavern.
Faint runes pulsed along the icy wall—symbols twisting like serpents, flickering with the tempo of a frantic heartbeat.
He closed his eyes, listening.
Deep below the mountain's crust, a pulse echoed.
A tremor—small, but distinct.
Not physical.
Magical.
A call only the White Veil's leader could hear.
Kazuki's silver eyes opened sharply.
"…Jyn has engaged."
Another tremor. More violent, colder, crawling up his spine.
"A second presence… Luno."
His fingers curled, nails tapping lightly against the frost.
Then—
A distortion. A louder crack.
"…Seven."
The name left his lips with quiet irritation.
Kazuki's cloak shifted as he turned his back to the runes, and began walking down the dark corridor—the icy floor echoing with slow, thunderous steps.
Inside a chamber carved of stone and ancient ice, Shoto trembled.
His breath emerged in thin white clouds.
His wrists were bound by frost-chains etched in runes that pulsed like veins.
He weakly lifted his head as the door groaned open.
Kazuki stepped inside.
No urgency.
No emotion.
Only inevitability.
Silver eyes glowed faintly as ancestral frost magic stirred around him.
"Shoto Kazami," Kazuki said in a calm voice that cut like a blade.
"The trial I planned for you…"
He raised his hand.
A ring of ice-blue sigils ignited beneath Shoto, spiraling outward like a blooming frozen flower.
The runes pulsed faster.
Faster.
Shoto's breath hitched.
"What the hell is this trial you're talking abou—?!"
Kazuki ignored the panic.
"My subordinates are engaging your… well, friends. They are scattering themselves across the mountain.
The balance of this place—
of fate—
is shifting too rapidly."
His eyes narrowed.
"If I do not act now…"
He abruptly turned.
"We will start in six minutes."
Kazuki marched out without another glance, cloak snapping behind him like a silent executioner's blade.
The chamber dimmed—
The runes brightened.
Brighter.
BRIGHTER.
A pillar of cold light erupted around Shoto, encasing the air in frozen stillness. His body stiffened as the ice responded to something dormant inside him.
Meanwhile, outside the lower entrance of the fortress—
Shino stood like a statue carved from ice and rage.
He watched three small shapes approaching through the storm:
Hina.
Hikaru.
Neko.
Their silhouettes swayed against the roaring blizzard, but they kept moving—determined, unafraid.
Shino's grip tightened on his broken spear.
Beside him, footsteps echoed.
The woman with geometric frost-tattoos beneath her eyes approached calmly, white cami robe fluttering around her ankles. She stared ahead, icy breath leaving her lips in steady plumes.
Shino stood without turning toward her.
"Deal with them."
The woman paused.
Her cold gaze slid from Shino to the approaching trio.
She let out a soft sigh—calm, but lethal.
Hikaru and Hina froze mid-step.
Neko's tail puffed.
The temperature dropped another ten degrees.
The woman's voice drifted toward them, soft as falling snow—
"…I hope you're not expecting mercy."
Hina stepped forward.
But not calmly.
Not cautiously.
She smiled.
A slow, devilish, dangerous smile that curled upward like the start of an execution.
"Go ahead, Hikaru… you and the cat," she said without looking back.
Hikaru blinked.
"Are you sure…?"
Neko gulped, his tail puffing. "Uh—maybe we should all—"
Too late.
Hina reached into her bag.
Her hand emerged gripping the hilt of her fire sword.
FWOOOM—!!
Flames roared along the blade, reshaping themselves into a long, elegant rapier.
The heat melted the snow at her feet instantly, steam rising around her like a fiery aura.
Hikaru and Neko sweat-dropped comedically.
"Oh no," Hikaru whispered. "It's that smile."
Neko covered his face with his paws. "She's switching—she's SWIT—"
Hina's grin widened.
Her pupils narrowed just slightly.
Her posture shifted—shoulders lowering, stance loosening, expression slipping into something feral and unhinged.
Her other personality seeped through her voice.
"Yes…"
She dragged the word out like a knife slowly cutting through skin.
Hikaru didn't need to be told twice.
He grabbed Neko and sprinted toward the fortress entrance.
"We'll—uh—catch up inside!" Neko squeaked.
The frost-tattooed woman didn't attempt to stop them.
Her icy eyes remained on Hina.
Only Hina.
The moment Hikaru disappeared into the fortress, the woman lowered her head slightly—respectfully, almost ceremonially.
"My name," she said, voice untouched by emotion,
"is Sakiri Hyouden."
Frost crawled up her arms in spiraling patterns.
"I am the White Veil Order's 3rd Seat."
Hina tilted her head, fire reflecting in her wicked smile.
"Ohhh," she purred, stepping forward, rapier pointed casually downward,
"a top-three rank?"
Steam hissed where her breath met the cold.
"Good."
Her smile sharpened into something predatory.
"Let me play with you."
Sakiri's frost markings glowed brighter.
The storm around them swirled, bending toward her—obeying her.
"You will die here," Sakiri whispered.
Wind tore past the cliff's edge, ripping at snow and stone as Endo stood casually on the slope—hands in his pockets, expression bored, as if the mountain weren't trying to kill him.
Seven looked nothing like a man anymore.
More like a nightmare carved out of winter and hatred.
His one remaining eye twitched in irritation.
"This teleportation," he said, frost trailing from his voice like smoke.
"Child. You mock me."
Endo reappeared sitting on a nearby boulder, legs crossed like he was sunbathing instead of fighting for his life.
"I mean… yeah. You swing like a broken refrigerator."
Seven lunged.
A spear of jagged frost slashed through the space where Endo's head had been an instant earlier—
but Endo vanished before the frost had time to settle.
He appeared behind Seven and casually leaned an elbow on his shoulder.
"Careful. Throw your back out and I'll have to start charging for physical therapy."
Seven swung his elbow backward.
It passed straight through Endo's fading afterimage.
The real Endo drifted upside down in the air above him, still with his hands in his pockets.
"Try your left hand next time. Better reach."
Seven still didn't breathe.
Instead, the ground beneath him began to freeze as frost erupted outward in a branching pattern.
Endo avoided it effortlessly, vanishing before the ice reached his boots and appearing high above the battlefield, sitting cross-legged in midair like gravity had decided not to apply to him.
"Your ice got faster," Endo said. "Nice."
Seven straightened slowly.
The frost around him seemed to thicken, condense, darken.
Black ice crept up his spine.
His shoulders cracked and shifted outward unnaturally.
Behind him, a long, curved scythe materialized—
not made of metal, but formed from solidified death-frost glowing a ghostly blue.
His skin dulled to a corpse-like gray.
Black veins spread across his neck.
A hood rose behind him, woven from swirling shadow and ice.
In seconds, Seven no longer resembled a man at all.
He had become a Grim Reaper sculpted from a glacier.
Even Endo paused.
"…Okay. That's definitely new."
Seven raised the frost scythe in a single slow, deliberate motion.
When he spoke, his voice carried layers—empty, ancient, echoing as if multiple spirits spoke at once.
The storm around them froze midair.
Snowflakes hung suspended like flecks of glass.
The wind died completely.
The mountain itself groaned as the temperature dropped.
Seven raised one hand toward Endo.
"I grant you the final honor—your death."
The scythe vanished into a swirl of blue mist—
and reformed behind Endo's neck, already swinging upward.
It cut clean through Endo's body.
For a moment, Seven believed the battle was over.
Then Endo's figure dissolved like static.
The real Endo leaned against a frozen tree stump ten feet away, clapping slowly.
"My turn."
A purple light appeared in his hand as the Teleportation Sword manifested—a slender obsidian blade etched with faint blue runes.
A blade with a single ability: teleportation.
Instant. Exact. Brutal.
Seven's hollow voice echoed across the mountain.
"Running only prolongs the inevitable."
Endo lifted the sword behind his shoulder.
"Running? No, man. This is the actual fight."
Seven dissolved into frost and reappeared behind Endo, scythe already in motion.
Endo tapped the blade and vanished, reappearing above Seven's shoulder.
"By the way," he said, "nice aim."
Seven turned and swung upward.
Endo teleported again and appeared beside the scythe—his own blade striking it, knocking the swing slightly off trajectory.
Seven's head snapped toward him.
"You are infuriating."
Endo landed lightly on the ice, gripping the teleport sword with both hands.
From the outside, it looked like the mountain was filled with afterimages—multiple Endos flickering in and out of reality as he teleported around the battlefield.
Seven's breaths thickened into heavy frost.
"Then let us see how long your little trick lasts."
He vanished into a burst of cold and reappeared above Endo.
Endo teleported behind him.
Seven reappeared in front.
Endo teleported backward.
Seven appeared overhead.
Endo moved again.
Seven lifted his scythe toward the sky.
"Frostfall Calamity."
The sky opened.
A rain of black snow descended—each flake sharp as a needle, carrying killing frost.
The blizzard thickened until the entire mountain disappeared beneath a dome of darkness.
Endo's eyes widened.
"…Okay. That's not good."
He teleported.
Then again.
Then again, faster.
But the black snow pursued him relentlessly.
One flake sliced open his shoulder.
Another caught his leg.
Another cut across his cheek, freezing the skin.
He slid across the ice, struggling to stand.
Seven walked through the storm without taking a single step off balance.
"You cannot dodge forever."
Endo wiped blood from his lip.
"Maybe not. But I can buy time."
Seven lifted his scythe.
Endo raised his blade.
And for the first time, the boy's expression lost its playfulness.
"Because unlike you," Endo said, taking a stance,
"my friends actually trust me."
Seven's aura pulsed.
"Foolish."
Endo blinked.
"…What?"
He suddenly coughed—hard.
Blood dripped to the snow.
He dropped to one knee.
"H-how…?"
Seven stepped forward, towering over him.
"The black snow cursed your wounds. The moment they touched you, your death was set."
Endo struggled to breathe as his vision blurred.
The teleport sword slipped from his weakening grip.
Seven raised his scythe for the final strike.
"This is the end, boy."
Endo's vision wavered.
The world tilted.
The freezing curse in his blood crawled toward his heart like icy vines, numbing his fingers, then his wrists.
His knees hit the snow.
Seven towered over him—Reaper form fully manifested, scythe raised like the final page of a prophecy.
"You defy the inevitable," Seven said.
"But death reaches all things."
Endo coughed again, blood staining the snow.
He glanced at it.
Black snow embedded in the liquid like ash.
Endo lowered his head as if accepting fate.
Then he smirked.
"…I always hated predictable endings."
Seven froze, his scythe paused mid-strike.
Endo raised the teleportation blade.
Even his hand shook violently now, the curse biting deeper.
But he didn't collapse.
Instead—
He pressed the blade to his own chest.
Seven's eyes widened.
"You wouldn't dare—"
"I would."
Endo tapped the flat of the blade.
The teleportation mark flashed.
The curse inside him—
the black snow threaded through his veins—
vanished from his bloodstream
and reappeared, expelled, in the shape of dark shards scattered harmlessly onto the snow.
His body dropped forward briefly as warmth returned to his chest.
His breaths slowly steadied.
He wiped the remaining black flakes off his skin.
"See?" he said, panting. "Not dead yet."
Seven's hood twitched with fury.
"You meddlesome insect."
Endo lifted his head.
"You should've killed me faster."
Seven swept his scythe downward.
Endo teleported—not away, but into the downward swing.
The blade sliced through the air past his shoulder without cutting him.
He appeared right under Seven's guard, teleport sword pointed up.
Seven raised his scythe again.
Endo vanished.
Seven struck nothing.
Endo reappeared beside him.
Seven pivoted.
Endo disappeared.
Seven swung behind.
Endo vanished again.
He teleported faster now—faster than he had all fight.
Teleporting with purpose, not mockery.
Seven spun, trying to keep up.
"You rely on tricks—"
"No," Endo said, suddenly behind him.
Seven reacted too slow.
Endo's blade pressed to Seven's throat.
"I rely on timing."
The teleport mark glowed.
Seven froze—not physically, but with dawning recognition.
"Impossible—"
Endo teleported the space between Seven's head and neck.
Not the body.
Just the space.
Seven stiffened.
For a moment, he stood completely still—as frost waterfalls paused midair behind him.
Then his body slowly separated.
The scythe fell from his hand.
Seven's grim reaper form dissolved into drifting crystals of black ice that scattered across the snow.
His voice echoed one final time.
"Unexpected…"
Endo exhaled, finally lowering his blade.
He dropped to one knee, exhausted, but alive.
He watched the last fragments of Seven's frozen aura dissolve into the wind.
Then he pushed himself up.
"Man… I really hate this mountai-"
The last remnants of Seven's icy body dissolved into the wind.
Silence blanketed the mountainside.
Endo stood there—trembling, bleeding, breathing heavily.
His teleportation sword flickered weakly, runes dimming.
He coughed.
Once.
Then again, harder—
and his entire body shuddered as the magic inside him surged violently.
The air around him rippled.
A burst of light broke free, swirling around him in a spiraling cloud.
Snow lifted from the ground.
Wind warped.
Then—
The older Endo was gone.
The smoke drifted away like steam.
Lying where the sixteen-year-old had stood…
was a small child.
Six years old.
The real, younger Endo.
Curled in the snow.
Unconscious.
Chest rising softly with small, steady breaths.
His little hand rested beside the teleportation sword, now dormant.
He didn't even shiver.
The mountain wind howled over him, but his tiny body was still, peaceful, as if fast asleep after a long day of play.
Back inside the fortress, deep within its frozen heart, Shino sat on a throne of jagged ice.
Blue runes glowed faintly along the floor—circles, sigils, ancient script.
One rune flickered violently.
Then went dark.
Shino leaned forward, expression unchanging.
"…Seven is dead, huh."
He exhaled through his nose—not anger.
Annoyance.
"What a useless servant."
The cold wind echoed through the chamber like a dying beast.
Footsteps entered from the far hallway.
Hikaru stepped into view—bow lowered but ready, expression stern.
Neko perched on his shoulder, tail curled tight, ears flat from the cold.
Shino rose from the throne.
Tall.
Massive.
Scale patterns glowing faintly under his skin.
His breath came out in mist.
His icy blue eyes locked onto Hikaru.
"I suppose you'll have to do for now," Shino said, his voice low, almost calm.
"Considering Shoto Kazami awaits his so-called 'trial.'"
Neko's fur bristled.
"Trial…? What the hell are you planning, lizard-face?"
Shino ignored him.
He reached behind the throne and pulled forth his spear—fully restored, its once-broken blade now whole and gleaming with a cold that devoured light.
He examined it, fingers brushing along the polished surface.
"All I ever wanted," Shino said, voice flattening into cold hatred,
"was to kill him."
He twirled the spear and rested the blade against his shoulder.
"But now Kazuki interferes. He worries about the blood inside Shoto—like it's some kind of divine warning."
The dragonprone's gaze darkened.
"Blood is blood. Fate is fate."
He tightened his grip on the spear.
"I don't care what power sleeps inside him."
His stare sharpened, cutting through the air like frost.
"I need to kill him."
The torches flickered.
The runes glowed brighter.
And Hikaru understood—
Shino wasn't waiting for a trial.
He was waiting for a chance to finish what began 116 years ago.
The chamber was silent.
Too silent.
Not even the torches crackled anymore.
Not even the frost dared to shift.
Shoto sat on his knees, staring at the floor.
His breath came out in trembling clouds, but not from fear—
from the cold pressing down on his lungs like a weight.
Then—
A click.
The chains around his wrists loosened.
Then fell.
Shoto flinched.
His hands, still stiff from the frost, slowly lifted.
He curled his fingers inward—testing them—closing them into fists.
His timid breathing steadied.
He lowered his gaze.
There, lying just inches away on the frost-covered floor, was the Zamorak Sword.
Its obsidian hilt pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat beneath charred metal.
Shoto reached forward.
Hesitated.
His trembling stopped.
He wrapped his fingers around the grip.
A wave of heat surged through his spine.
Dark energy crawled up his arms like black veins.
The sword responded instantly—awakening at his touch.
Black scales crept under his eyes, spreading across his cheekbones.
His pupils sharpened.
The timid shyness evaporated from his expression—
leaving only calm, icy focus.
Shoto rose slowly to his feet.
No fear.
No doubt.
Only purpose.
The chamber around him began to shift—walls stretching outward, ceilings rising, the floor expanding as runes activated.
The fortress reconfigured itself entirely—twisting into a vast arena of ice and stone.
On the far side of the room, Yumiko lay unconscious atop a frost-encrusted bed, her breaths soft and steady.
She did not stir.
Shoto's eyes flickered toward her for a single moment.
Then he tightened his grip on the Zamorak Sword.
Footsteps echoed.
Kazuki emerged from the shadows behind the runic pillars—
silver eyes glowing, white scarf flowing behind him like spectral smoke.
His presence bent the air with pressure.
Cold radiated off him—not like winter, but like something much older.
Much deadlier.
He approached Shoto with controlled, unhurried steps.
The leader of the White Veil stared directly into Shoto's scaled eyes.
"Good," Kazuki said, voice calm. "You've awakened at last."
He lifted a hand.
Frost swirled around it like a small galaxy.
"Once I kill you," Kazuki continued,
"your blood will spill across this fortress—
and the entire world will freeze."
Shoto raised his sword.
His voice was low.
"…I'm not dying here."
Kazuki smiled faintly—
coldly—
as the runes on the floor ignited in a blinding blue.
The chamber's new form towered above them—
an arena of ice-sharpened columns, spiraling runes, and frozen air that barely moved.
The ceiling glowed faintly with aurora-like colors, shimmering over the frost-blue stone.
Shoto tightened his grip on the Zamorak Sword.
Kazuki stood across the arena, hands behind his back, posture poised like a king giving judgment.
Cold radiated from him—not winter cold.
Something older.
More absolute.
A cold that felt like it could erase memories, hopes, everything.
Kazuki's eyes narrowed.
"Do you feel it, Shoto Kazami?"
Shoto said nothing.
He simply adjusted his stance, letting the sword's weight settle into his palm.
"The blood inside you," Kazuki continued, "does not belong to this era. It belongs to a king who froze nations, shattered armies, and slaughtered the Dragonprone without mercy."
He lifted two fingers.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Shoto's breath fogged into smoke.
Kazuki's voice cut through the silence.
"You carry his blood…
the blood of Zamorak."
The runes along the walls pulsed—
and Kazuki moved.
Not fast.
Instant.
One blink—
and he was in front of Shoto.
Shoto barely raised his sword before Kazuki's palm struck.
Impact.
The world shook.
Shoto flew backward, crashing through three ice pillars before he ground to a stop across the slick floor.
He gasped.
He had blocked.
But his arms were numb from the force.
Kazuki lowered his hand.
"You disappoint me already."
Shoto grit his teeth, pushing himself up.
Focus.
Stay focused.
He dashed forward, sword trailing black-crimson energy.
Kazuki watched with serene eyes.
"A frontal charge? Predictable."
He flicked his wrist.
A wall of frost erupted from the ground.
Shoto didn't stop.
He cut through it, cleaving the frozen wall cleanly in half.
Steam erupted from the sword's molten red veins.
Kazuki raised an eyebrow.
"…Interesting."
Shoto appeared behind him, a diagonal slash ready—
Kazuki simply stepped aside, faster than sight, and tapped the back of Shoto's neck with a single finger.
A shockwave of cold blasted through Shoto's spine.
His legs buckled.
His arm nearly dropped the sword.
Shoto staggered forward, catching himself.
He inhaled slowly—
Shoto Open his palm as the Dark sword which instantly went to his hands channeling the dark energy through his gauntlets, forcing his muscles to move.
He spun sharply—
Kazuki blocked the sword using only two fingers.
The blade trembled against them.
Kazuki looked unimpressed.
"This sword chose you… but you haven't earned it."
Shoto pushed harder, veins glowing red.
Kazuki finally applied pressure.
The sword was flung back, jerking Shoto off balance.
Kazuki's knee drove into Shoto's gut.
Air left him in a burst.
He staggered back, coughing.
Kazuki approached slowly.
"You don't understand the bloodline inside you.
You don't understand what you truly are."
He raised his palm.
"Let me show you."
A circle of runes ignited at Shoto's feet.
Cold lightning surged upward—
Shoto teleported.
Not with magic—
with pure instinct, darting to the side, blade scraping the ice.
Kazuki's attack missed by inches.
Shoto charged again, sword crackling with dark heat.
Kazuki's eyes widened faintly.
"You're adapting."
Their blades met.
Black and blue energies collided—
heat against frost—
dark flame against silver ice.
The shockwave shattered the arena floor.
Shoto growled through clenched teeth.
"i'm not this king Remedus guy, so whoever you think I am. I will not and never will be him…"
Kazuki's expression finally shifted—
a hint of annoyance.
"You don't get to decide that."
He vanished.
Shoto's eyes widened—
Kazuki appeared above him, blade of frost forming at his fingertips.
"Frost Archon—
Judgment Cut."
He struck downward.
Shoto raised the Zamorak Sword—
dark flames erupting upward to meet the ice.
Heat and frost exploded in a blinding clash.
Shoto was hurled backward, slamming against a crystalline pillar.
But—
He held the sword steady.
Blood dripped from his lip.
Kazuki stared at him in silence.
Then—
"…Good."
His voice, cold as ever, carried a faint edge of respect.
"Show me more, Shoto Kazami."
Shoto wiped his mouth.
His pupils narrowed.
The scales under his eyes darkened further.
He stepped forward.
"I'm not showing you anything."