"Hmph, I've found a way to kill you—only… it looks like this fight is going to drag on much longer. I just hope the Dark Oath squad doesn't show up."
No.7 Aha had barely escaped with her life. Afterwards she reestablished contact with the organization, so they no longer needed to learn what happened from her comrades' corpses. But since she couldn't explain exactly how she'd survived, they branded her "unreliable" and, just as Jack Harper predicted, added her to the Northern War blacklist.
To counter the flood of Awakened sliding south, the organization issued the "Northern Intercept" assignment. Beyond Aha, twenty-four Claymore warriors answered the call and set off north. The entire Stav organization had forty-seven active fighters. Several fell when Liv struck at West Loli, Aha lost a few under her command, and there were other casualties besides. Now barely over thirty Claymores remained alive—so these twenty-four represented nearly eighty percent of the force.
When they arrived in Pied Town, their vivid hair colors, imposing statures, and gleaming blades naturally sent the townspeople into a frenzy. Claymores had always worked in tandem with demons, so most villagers instinctively saw them as omens of disaster rather than question whose fault it really was. Pied Town lay in the territory of the Northern Abyssal Iris, so demons seldom dared enter—after all, dozens of voracious Awakened roamed the frozen North, seeing every human as prey, and there was little opportunity left for ordinary demons to feed. The Awakened cleared out demonic infestations far more aggressively than Claymores ever did, charging no fee, making no fuss, and resolving threats in absolute silence.
Still, no matter how much the locals pushed back, Claymores lived by their own rules. As soon as the three single-digit warriors—no.6 Phantom Milia, no.7 Aha the Waltzer, and no.8 Flora the Wind-Cutter—convened, they began mapping out a defensive perimeter centered on the town.
By the time Creya, the story's protagonist and no.47 Claymore, arrived with Jean, the no.9 Spiral-Sword, all twenty-five warriors were on site. They appointed no.6 Phantom Milia as overall captain, then no.7, no.8, no.9, and the highest-ranked among the rest, no.11 Wendini, as squad leaders. Divided into five strike teams, they planned to leverage Claymore tactics—concentrated local strength—to meet the approaching Awakened host.
On the town square below, the Claymores formed ranks. On the second floor of the inn overlooking the plaza, Jack Harper and Elliot Gray surveyed the scene.
"Just like you said—five squads," Jack Harper noted. "They even added no.7 Aha, which means no.13 Veronica lost her shot at command. Their overall capability is a bit higher now."
Elliot shook his head. "Pointless. You know how dangerous Awakened are. One extra single-digit Claymore might kill a single extra Awakener, but that's all. They won't win the war."
"At least it boosts their survival odds," Jack countered. "It's a minor tweak, but when you're at a disadvantage, every little edge counts."
Elliot sat back and asked, "By the way, how's your training plan going since you headed out?"
"Just like you told me—I went to the Holy City to hunt the sleeper Awakener. That former No.2, Agatha the Bloodied, was hiding there. I can't sense Yoki, and she'd changed her name, but I found her fast. She's incredibly strong." Jack's expression darkened.
"As an Awakened, Agatha's transformation reaches nearly a half-aircraft-carrier in size. With every chitin spike launch numbering in the hundreds, her demonic power and regeneration are terrifying. Her true weakness moves anywhere on that massive body—unless you utterly destroy her entire form, you can't win. Fortunately, I'm not like the Claymores. Ice can obliterate a chunk of that body in one strike and slow her regeneration. With my Death Charger's speed and my endurance, I chased her from the city streets into the open plain. Three hours later, her Yoki finally collapsed and she died. My Dark Aquarius Cloth almost shattered, too. No.2 is no joke—she's literally several times stronger than a typical Awakener."
Elliot raised an eyebrow. "What did you get for it?"
Jack frowned. "Strangely, I received 5,000 survival points and a mid-tier Silver 'Advanced Awakener' lineage card, but my battle rating didn't budge. Killing such a powerful Awakener doubled the cold energy within me—now, even a 150× cosmos burst would leave me safe. Plus, under that life-or-death pressure, my cosmos ripped through another breakthrough. My new limit is about 43×. Hit Silver Saint's 50× threshold and, even without Seventh Sense, my combat power will spike massively."
Elliot tapped his chin. "Sounds like Reincarnation Space has special rules for ratings outside assigned missions. We just haven't figured them out yet. Tell me—if Agatha the Bloodied attacked Pied Town, ignoring Creya's half-Awakened transformation, could the twenty-five Claymores survive?"
Jack thought it over. "Best case, both sides end up crippled. Even split-force onslaughts that chop her limbs apart would leave fewer than ten Claymores standing. If they misplay things, total annihilation's possible. These warriors aren't a long-standing team—fresh squads with mutual unfamiliarity can't unleash full power. Honestly, I'd rather see six fighters: the five squad leaders plus Creya. Drill them for a few days and they might outperform the full twenty-five against a single target."
Elliot nodded. "That formation is risky, then. They don't know there's another super-strong Awakener out there: Li Carlot, the Silver-Eyed Lion King. A former No.2 male Awakener, his strength, experience, and morale far outstrip that timid Agatha. Phantom Milia's setup only addresses waves of common Awakened. Against the Lion King, they'd be picked off one by one."
Jack asked, "Got a counter?"
Elliot waved a hand. "Doesn't matter yet. Even if we can't count on Creya's explosion of power, as long as we warn them in advance, they won't be caught flat-footed. The real problem is Dark Oath's three operatives. They know the script—they won't let the Lion King die first, and they might kill our Claymore earlier to remove the threat. We don't know their capabilities, so we can only brace for defense. I suspect they're already in Pied Town, maybe next door or right across the street. That's why I had you disguise yourself these past days."
Jack's eyes sharpened. "Now that the Claymores have organized, tonight the Awakener vanguard will strike. Dark Oath should make their move then."
Elliot agreed. "We don't know their playbook. It's worth teasing them out—if you can't beat them, at least you can flee. But don't reveal our hand."
Jack nodded. "I'll get ready."
Below, the Claymores—many hot-headed young women hardened by constant slaughter—might normally settle disputes by drawing swords rather than debate. Yet in this medieval world without media or diversions, even the most rebellious recognized their shared purpose. Under the authority of the top-ranked Claymores, the initial squabbles quickly gave way to organized strategy.
Meanwhile, Jack Harper lay hidden beside a sculpted gargoyle atop the domed church, his Dark Aquarius Cloth gleaming in the moonlight. A crystal-blue sphere of energy floated in his palm. Wispy tendrils of light drifted upward, dissolving into the dense, low-hanging snow clouds.
Soon, the endless blizzard above Pied Town gained a subtle sapphire shimmer—tiny, sparkling flecks like crushed blue diamonds among the driving snow.
Jack had unlocked this after killing Agatha: an ancillary power of "Throne Chill," born from his Overwhelming Cold surge. It infused his malevolent frost into the snow itself, creating a bleak ice domain. Any enemy stepping into it would suffer continuous cold damage. A true "Frozen Throne" domain from Frostmourne would kill a normal human in two minutes; Jack's version was one-and-done, but in the wild storm of the North, he exploited the weather to propagate his cold with minimal effort.
Two hours later, his task complete and the hour of battle approaching, a sweet female voice startled him from behind.
"Jackie—is that you?"
Jack spun around to see Flora the Wind-Cutter standing in the shadows.
"How did you find me?" he asked, surprised.
Flora blinked her silver eyes. "I felt your cosmos fluctuate, Jackie."
Jack remembered: cosmos could resonate with kindred techniques, just as Yoki let Claymores sense each other. His cosmos was a unique fusion of methods—not even true Saints could detect it—yet Flora had learned it firsthand from him. He hadn't hidden it, so it made sense she'd sense the shift.
Flora smiled in the gloom. "What are you doing all the way up here?"
Bound by Reincarnation Space rules, Jack couldn't reveal the plot. He said, "I came north early when I heard groups of Awakened were on the move. I stayed to observe. With dozens of Claymores gathering, I had to see for myself."
Flora's expression softened knowingly. "So the mysterious knight Aha credits with rescuing her is… you, Jackie?"
Jack shrugged. "My horse is fast. I can't beat those Awakened in a fight, but I can outrun them." He added, "This time the numbers of Awakened may outnumber you. If they all swarm in, there'll be no survivors."
Flora frowned. "I know, but the organization ordered us to hold Pied Town to the last Warrior. Not one Awakener may pass."
"Does the organization know your survival?" Jack asked. In this world there was no magic contract or satellite tracking—how could they?
Flora answered, "Our No.3, 'Divine Eye' Galatea, can sense the faintest Yoki fluctuations from hundreds of kilometers away. She can tell if we live or die—even from afar."
Jack scoffed. "If they have such power, why not use it to hunt Awakened?" He paused, noticing a shift in Flora's tone. "Have you lost faith in the organization? Why not unite and rebel?"
Flora shook her head. "We're all bred to serve them. Though we question their methods, most can't fathom open rebellion. The organization continuously creates Warriors to protect this world from demons. And at the top five ranks are the strongest—if any of them wanted to punish us, our losses would be catastrophic."
Her voice turned hopeful. "I overheard Phantom Milia plotting a fake-death ruse to trick the organization. It's risky, but it might let us escape without being hunted. I think it's worth trying."
Jack hesitated. He realized revealing Elliot's insider claim—that the organization spawned demons as experiments—might doom Flora and her comrades if they tried to fight back. The top five included a former two-generation No.2, La Chana, with No.1 strength; and the current No.1 and No.2, the "Black Twins" Alías and Bixy, who could awaken, recover, and still rival Li Carlot himself. Any uprising would fail.
He changed tack. "How's your cosmos training going?"
Flora closed her eyes. Jack sensed her cosmos—a fiercely vibrant energy unlike his own chill. She opened her silver eyes and said, "I've mastered nineteen-fold cosmos now. My Yoki generation falters—after each burst I need rest. My demonic transformation is gone; any Yoki I produce is consumed."
Jack nodded. "So even Divine Eye Galatea can't sense your Yoki?"
"No," Flora confirmed. "Neither sensing nor manipulating Yoki works on me." She then asked, "Jackie, may I teach my technique to the others?"
Jack smiled. "Since cosmos and Yoki don't conflict, why not? Although, in the coming battle, I'm not sure how quickly they'll adapt. Cosmos has no innate regenerative property like Yoki. Your offense-oriented fighters will manage, but those relying on regeneration for defense may struggle."
Flora agreed. "It might not help them now, but it could aid future escapes."
He laughed. "I forgot—you're the expert on Warrior tactics. If you think it works, I trust you."
Flora bowed. "All the Claymores thank you. But Jackie, you should leave town now. This fight belongs to Warriors and Awakened. You have no reason to join."
Jack feigned sorrow. "Flora, aren't we friends?"
She shook her head gently. "It's not that. If they were demons, you'd be justified. But Awakened were once Warriors—the organization's fault created them. Correcting those mistakes is our responsibility, not yours."
Jack's gaze softened. "Still, I don't want to watch you die."
Flora paused, uncertain. Suddenly her face grew serious as she turned north.
"They're here!" she warned.
From the swirling snow four hundred-meter-long chains shot out, anchoring into rooftops. With a sudden tug, a massive Awakener swung through the air like Spider-Man, landing in the town at the end of the tightened chains.
"Greetings, residents of Pied Town!" the Awakener boomed, then fired his chains like spears, impaling helpless villagers.
Moments later, several Claymores severed the chains and surrounded him.
But more Awakened were pouring in. Two dark silhouettes trailed their vanguard: one, a blindfolded Awakener transformed into a giant insect perched atop buildings on dozens of scythe-like legs; the other, a bald, slight Awakener remained untransformed, watching the fight from a rooftop.
The Claymores split into two squads. Flora's team, including Creya, flanked the bald Awakener and struck first. Creya dashed onto the roof and unleashed her Wind-Cleave Sword, aiming to slay him before he could transform.
"Huh? Huh?" the bald Awakener stammered, stunned both by Flora's approach and then by having an arm severed. Awakener limbs regenerated easily—but he was more astonished by something else:
"Why can I sense no Yoki from you? No—there's literally no Yoki inside you! What are you?" he yelled.
Flora said nothing and leapt forward—only to find two mates lunging at her from either side. She halted and deflected their blows.
Creya shouted from below, "Watch out—he can control everyone's Yoki!"
Creya noticed, but couldn't stop it. In the next instant, every Claymore's Yoki was frozen—they stood rooted in place.
Only Flora remained free.
"How interesting, how interesting—this is why I had to become a monster!" The bald Awakener, frustrated he couldn't bind her, gleefully transformed into a massive, turtle-shelled lizard. Flora's Wind-Cleave Sword left only a shallow scrape on his armored hide.
Flora tumbled back, kicked two of her bound comrades clear, putting distance between her and his Yoki-manipulation range.
Amid the bloody chaos, Jack Harper at last faced his long-awaited opponent.
On a nearby rooftop stood a middle-aged man in a black-trimmed, gold-edged ancient robe. Three wispy strands of beard fell from his chin. A Chinese-style longsword hung at his back.
Jack had expected Dark Oath to track him down. He nodded. "I've heard your squad calls you 'Boss,' but I'd rather use your proper title. You're the Dark Oath captain?"
The man inclined his head. "Call me Magnor."
"Captain Magnor," Jack replied, "I'm Rime."
Magnor's face was austere—elegant features, rectangular face, straight brows, phoenix eyes, high nose, wide mouth. His gaze chilled Jack deeper than any ice power. Magnor spoke:
"You killed Brandon Caswell, then the alchemist and Elise. I thought you were a mere talent with potential—until news arrived that you beat me to the Holy City and killed the former No.2 Awakener Agatha. The battlefield was ten miles of carnage, half the city turned purple with her blood. I realized I was wrong: you're not just potential. You have the power to be my rival."
Jack's heart skipped. Magnor must be a veteran of frontline development—no mere alchemist or support specialist. His rise to mid-Silver rank probably meant he'd slain a Golden-class boss or a Reincarnation guest. His record spoke of overwhelming strength and a arsenal of secrets.
Jack steadied himself. "Should I feel honored, or nervous?"
Magnor snorted and advanced like the wind—his fist launched before Jack could blink. Rime's own speed, the hallmark of a cosmos warrior, let him counter with a frost-infused punch.
They collided mid-air with a muffled boom. Jack recoiled only half a step; Magnor spun off like a drifting snowflake. But he whirled immediately, ringing around behind Jack, and unleashed seven successive kicks. Jack vaulted clear, evading them.
Jack's leap disturbed an unseen gale at his center—he rose a half-meter higher than intended. Before he could adjust, Magnor's palm appeared overhead, the snow compressed into a transparent giant hand nearly three meters wide. Jack tried to sidestep, but couldn't fully evade. The colossal palm struck the church dome with a thunderous crack, punching a massive hole. Jack and Magnor landed on opposite edges of the breach.
Magnor's relentless assault hadn't even grazed Jack, yet he remained expressionless. "You've taken every one of my punches, palms, and kicks without injury. You've surpassed most Silver Saints in combat. Saints excel at 'speed alone breaks all defense,' and you're strong in that. You also wield frost I can't freeze with my own technique. This complicates things."
Jack felt Magnor's frost power seep into him differently from his own ice. It wasn't as cold externally, but it cut to the bone. Only his internal adaptation—every cell attuned to ice—let him shrug off that blow.
Magnor revealed his hidden left hand: three fingers only. "Tri-Elemental Digits," he called them—his mastery of the three ultimate techniques, Cold-Fist, Cloud-Shatter Palm, and Storm-Leg merged into a single form. Each strike unleashed three parallel beams of colored energy—scarlat sunrise, azure bright-snow, and jade-hinted twilight—each steel-thick as a head. To perfect the technique, he'd sacrificed his thumb and little finger, concentrating all power into three digits.
He pointed, and the three beams shot forth. Jack felt their weight like Mount Tai perched on his back. Raising both hands, he manifested three two-meter-thick ice sarcophagi in front of him—but the Tri-Elemental beams cut through them like glass, shattering each into frost shards.
Jack knew he couldn't dodge, so he condensed his spirit and launched a flurry of Diamond-Frozen Starfall. Hundreds of icy fists roared into the colored beams. Flesh-shattering thunderclaps echoed as both energies detonated together, leveling the church into ruin. Jack was thrown clear, crashing into the street with such force he hollowed out a human-sized crater in the cobblestones. His Dark Aquarius Cloth protected him, but he lay dazed and breathless.
Despite the devastation, Magnor didn't press his advantage. He studied Jack from the snowy wreckage. "What skill is yours? Against my Tri-Elemental attack, you not only endured—you countered. Even your Sarcophagi held briefly."
Jack picked himself up. "Unbreakable Body Secret Art—your divine 'Impervious Shell.' How does it compare to my Cloth?"
Magnor nodded. "Very solid. I don't know your training regimen, but forging such power isn't just stacking points or cards. Your Saint Cloth and Diamond-Frozen Starfall surpass the original source. You've reached an amazing level."
Magnor sighed. "You recreated and even exceeded the Dark Gold Cloth of the original Dark Saint to earn mid-Silver rank. Impressive. I'm stronger, but I can't kill you easily. If you decide to run, even without your Death Charger, I couldn't catch you."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "And?"
Magnor allowed the faintest smile. "You'll find out next time. This ends now." With that, he dispersed into the roaring blizzard like smoke.
The streets grew deathly quiet under the swirling snow. Jack Harper steadied himself, vision clear once more. The Northern War's opening move had been struck—and he'd met the true captain of Dark Oath. The real battle was only beginning.