"From the very beginning, the 'Dark Oath' squad only ever sent one operative, and Jack Harper couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. After debating it with Elliot Gray, they still couldn't divine the squad's true objective—there simply wasn't enough information.
"I've got this nagging sense that they meant to draw my attention, while the others slipped away to do something else," Jack Harper said when he met Elliot Gray again. "The problem is, I haven't the faintest idea what they could be up to."
Elliot Gray frowned. "Not a single one of the alchemically placed detection nodes I set up reacted during your clash with Magnor."
With no leads to follow, Jack Harper reluctantly set the matter aside.
Meanwhile, Jack Harper's own skirmish wrapped up quickly, but the great-sword warriors on the other side were locked in a desperate, blood-soaked battle. Three Awakened had burst in—none were the absolute elite, yet each outmatched the first pair Jack and Flora had faced together. Outnumbered, the girls formed a ring around their foes, blades flashing furiously. Though many were cut and bruised, teamwork proved flawless: not a single death.
First to fall was the insect-transformed Awakened. No. 7 Aha and No. 9 Jane cornered it in a tight pincer, and under Jane's Spiral Sword ("Spiral Saber," her signature skill), the creature was ground into gore. Next, the chain-wielding Awakened met Phantom Milia—rank No. 6 but hiding her full power—and lost its head to her swift Phantom Strike. Last came the turtle-shaped Awakened, master of demonic energy manipulation. Flora and the protagonist Kreia unleashed the two fastest sword strikes in the corps, slicing it into thousands of pieces. It's hard to imagine a more gruesome end.
People naturally form bonds by shared secrets and battles. Among the great-sword warriors, Phantom Milia, Kreia, and a handful of others had once pushed their demon energy past its limit and awakened—only to clamp it down again by sheer force of will. These "half-Awakened" guarded the same secret, forging an unbreakable alliance of offense and defense. When Flora rescued No. 9 Jane—another half-Awakened—Jane joined their circle without hesitation.
Flora's knightly bearing and rigorous discipline earned her even wider respect among the sword-girls. Unlike Milia, who kept her distance from most, Flora cared deeply for every comrade. Over time she amassed a devoted following of junior swords. After cutting down the three Awakened, she summoned them to pass on her "small cosmos" technique—a method of channeling one's inner energy to both fight effectively and suppress further demon-energy mutation. Sword-girls feared full demonization: too many fled after a fight, convinced they were on the brink of awakening, sobbing in hidden corners. Flora's small-cosmos method inspired hope: you could still wield power without risking a full monstrous metamorphosis. No. 11 Wendini and No. 13 Veronica—two of the highest-ranked blades—joined within hours, and No. 7 Aha followed suit out of gratitude for Jack's rescue.
Mastering the small cosmos wasn't simple. Flora herself had spent months fine-tuning it. But among great-sword veterans existed a shortcut known as "demonic-energy sync." Two warriors synced their energy frequencies, priming both for small-cosmos entry. Flora's own path began with demon-energy control; only after her small cosmos matured did it become the driving force, squeezing every vestige of demon power into cosmic essence. By momentarily lowering her threshold and syncing with others, she could usher them through the gate—though initially only at two- or three-fold amplification, beneath even a bronze Saint's baseline. Still, once past that threshold, further training accelerated exponentially. Seeing glimpses of that power, every sword-girl threw herself into practice.
As news of the slaughtered Awakened spread, Piade's townsfolk panicked and fled south in droves. Within days, the once-bustling settlement stood deserted.
Far to the north, on the frozen expanse, the "Silver King" Ilys finally gave his order. Gather every remaining Awakened under his chief lieutenant, the "Silver-Eyed Lion King" Riculdo, and march on Piade. Flatten the town. Slaughter every great-sword. Then descend upon the south.
Jack Harper hadn't been idle. His duel with Magnor had revealed glaring flaws in his small-cosmos technique. Against ordinary foes, his raw power and speed were insurmountable. But in this recursive space—where elite Chinese martial artists matched him blow for blow—his broad strokes backfired. Magnor's mastery of "Triple Element Finger" and the "Unbreakable Body Art" exploited every subtle gap. If you never landed that clinching Iron Fist, brute force counted for nothing.
So Jack turned to the stolen Frostless Fist manual from Brandon Caswell. Alchemist Elliot Gray predicted that, at full maturity, Frostless Fist would rival a perfected Triple Element Finger. Jack lacked the time for mastery, but the core soft power of Frostless Fist—where every ounce of practice sharpened even the smallest technique—meshed perfectly with his inherent ice-mutation physiology and life-energy fusion. It was like imbibing an elixir: progress measured in quantum leaps. He'd begun training Frostless Fist the moment he entered this world, but only now, after facing Magnor, had he thrown himself into it.
His natural ice-anomaly surged through his meridians and dantian, accelerating his mastery. Without fear of backlash—no mindless channeling, no shattered vessels—he compressed his demonic ice energy into raw Frostless power. In just three days, he'd vaulted from neophyte to the cusp of Level 8, standing atop Tier 7's summit. One more breakthrough and he'd achieve "Glacial Apex," Frostless Fist's final form—a skill that would truly rival any Triple Element Finger.
His triumph was cut short by distant thunderous stomps and bestial roars rolling across the snowy plain. Twenty-seven Awakened—most towering well over ten meters, each weighing several tons—marched in, shaking Piade's foundations with every step.
The great-sword corps formed a tense ring, blades raised as one vow: "We refuse to die here!" It was the simplest, purest human cry—fight to survive.
In the original chronicle, the swords had tried an ambush within the town's buildings only to be preemptively struck by the Awakened, losing several girls in gore before the real battle began. This time was different. The small-cosmos secret had spread like wildfire. Within days, every sword-girl had learned to replace demon energy with small-cosmos essence—especially the low-rank blades. Their demon energy was so feeble that three- or four-fold amplification drained it dry, rendering them invisible to any demon-energy sensor.
Blind to these "ghost swords," the Awakened charged headlong into the town. At Flora's signal, the sword-girls struck. A handful of Awakened who barreled in were encircled by golden-haired, silver-eyed warriors and hacked relentlessly. Flesh slowed them only briefly before higher-rank swords joined, and under Flora, Wendini, Aha, and Jane's combined onslaught, three towering beasts fell within ten minutes.
Atop a distant cliff, a dark-haired youth with silver eyes watched. "Weird," he muttered. "Three Awakened dead, not a single sword lost… Yet I sense only twelve demon-energy signatures. Where are the others? Some new tech? Special drug?"
This was Silver-Eyed Lion King Riculdo, commander of the southern Awakened. "Time to deal with them myself," he decided, stepping off the precipice and vanishing into the swirling snow.
Ilys had once warned him: among all subordinates, your battle-lust reigns supreme—unpredictable and uncontainable. Only an opponent who stokes your bloodlust earns your full attention; everyone else might as well be dead already.
Meanwhile, the twenty-seven Awakened froze in mid-advance. In an instant, Riculdo's lean form ballooned to a hulking three meters. His skin rippled with crimson light, hair lengthening into a tangled mane, limbs twisting into razor-tipped claws. In his eyes—still a gleaming silver—burned cold fury. The silver haze of his aura spread across the square, bathing every surface in a blood-red glow.
The great-swords' unified oath turned to stunned silence. Before they could react, Riculdo vanished in a blur of motion—and reappeared amid the lowest-ranked five, claws splayed. They barely registered his presence before five simultaneous "Lion's Claw" impalements ended them in an instant. Then four more fell under the same brutal strike. In under a heartbeat, nine of the sister swords lay lifeless, their armor pierced, demon energy extinguished.
A collective gasp erupted. No.11 Wendini—her twin blades still crossed in mid-air—spun to block a fourth swipe. She braced with every ounce of her forged-steel resolve, but Riculdo's assault came too fast. His claw rent through her cross-guard, severing both arms at the elbows, then followed through to cleave her torso in two. Her half-body collapsed in a heap of snow and crimson.
"Wendini!" somebody screamed; others turned to flee, but found themselves rooted by shock. First casualty among the high-ranked swords.
Before they could process the loss, two more charged. No.9 Jane sprang beside No.7 Aha in a pincer. Jane's Spiral Saber danced in her hand—twenty-one revolutions of demonic energy coiling her arm like a living spring. She lunged, unleashing her signature "Twenty-One-Twist Spiral Blade Technique" aimed squarely at the Lion King's flank—perfect for hacking through shell-hardened hides.
Yet Riculdo moved faster. He whipped around on one leg, claws tracing an arc through the air that intersected Jane's path. Instead of hitting her blade, he struck her chest. Jane gurgled as the claw dragged her across the snow, then dropped limply.
That was the second. Only three remained high-ranked: Flora, Kreia, and Phantom Milia. Kreia surged forward, golden demon energy bursting around her. Flames roiled in her eyes as she summoned every ounce of fury to charge the Lion King—but a casual sweep of his free claw flung her like a rag doll into a stone wall. She crumpled, twitching.
All attention snapped to Flora. Known for her blindingly fast swordplay, she instinctively leapt aside, Slashwind Sword already humming in her grip. But Riculdo's phasing speed outstripped even her blade. Before she could bring Slashwind to bear, his claw whipped across her brow as if tracing a cutline in the air.
A thin line of blood spurted, and Flora's knees buckled. Yet when her body slumped, her figure still stood—unharmed—and at her feet lay Riculdo's severed elbow, dripping with her blood.
A stunned silence fell. The Lion King turned, and behind him on the plaza's rim stood a lone figure on horseback: dark hair, silver eyes, clad in ornate dark-golden armor. In his gauntleted hand rested a massive axe pulsing with cold azure light. Purple blood stained its blade—the severed limb's fluid still fresh.
The great-swords stared in awe. The newcomer's presence crackled with composed menace. Jack Harper felt his pulse spike.
Riculdo's roar of surprise echoed across the square. He glanced down at the stump, then locked eyes on the knight. The other Awakened spat in rage and, as if cued, dropped their weapons and fell back behind Riculdo, their towering silhouettes forming a living wall.
Flora swayed, clutching her sword. Jack leapt from his mount, axe raised, internal Frostless energy thrumming through his veins. "Everyone, hold position!" he commanded, voice echoing with small-cosmos resonance. "Stay sharp, but don't charge. Let me handle this."
Milia and Kreia—wounded but not broken—formed a defensive line beside Flora. The lower-rank swords, though shaken, regained their composure under Jack's unspoken promise of protection.
Riculdo flexed his remaining arm, silver eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" His voice rolled like distant thunder. "A new 'Staff' experiment? A Dark Oath mole?"
Jack's axe glinted. "Why does every Awakened ask that?" he replied, voice calm, edged with ice. "All you need to know is I'm your enemy."
Riculdo's lips peeled back in a predator's grin. "Show me, then." He vanished in a spray of distant echoes—so fast that the other swords only saw a final, radiant afterimage of his form.
Seconds later, a massive claw descended where Jack once stood, smashing into the frozen earth with ear-splitting force. Frost and chunks of rock flew in all directions.
Jack rolled free, Frostless energy crackling across his armor. Drawing on his newly honed back-charging technique—small cosmos amplified by Frostless Fist—he rebounded upright and slashed. The Slashwind Axe cleaved an arc of blue-white frost, colliding with Riculdo's claw in a collision of superheated impulse and subzero might. Metal sang as ice engulfed the exposed bone, turning it into a frosted ruin.
Jack grunted and surged forward. Using his afterimage steps—each one propelled by small-cosmos bursts and Frostless core—he darted alongside Riculdo's flank. The Lion King whirled, trying to intercept, but Jack's newly acquired acceleration outpaced him. At the perfect moment, Jack raised his axe high and brought it down in a devastating overhead cleave.
Riculdo twisted aside, managing only a partial block that splintered the blade's tip. Shards of silver blood sprayed onto Jack's armor. Riculdo stumbled, unbalanced by the loss of his elbow, and couldn't regain his center in time to meet the follow-up.
Jack didn't hesitate. He drew on every reserve of small-cosmos heat and Frostless condensation, sending a final flurry of Axe-Wind slices that forced Riculdo to retreat. Each swing coated the Lion King's broken flesh in frost, his roars turning into ragged breaths.
Even as Riculdo wiped ice crystal from his face, he managed to voice a single question, disbelief seeping through the pain. "What… is this power? Not demon energy, yet chilling as the void itself. Are you… a dragon?"
Jack paused mid-swing, frost swirling around his blade. He lowered the axe slightly, meeting Riculdo's gaze. "No," he said softly. "I'm just a knight who refuses to let monsters trample the innocent."
Riculdo's silver eyes flared. "You cannot leave here." With a final roar, he sprang—every ounce of his surviving demon-energy locked into one last burst of speed and power.
But Jack was ready. He cupped his hands, igniting a dense core of Frostless chi. The frozen air around him crackled as he channeled the "Glacial Apocalypse Palm" (冰河极境掌), his ultimate expression of Frostless mastery. A shockwave of subzero force erupted forward, colliding with Riculdo's charge.
The impact lit the air with ice and dust. Riculdo's momentum reversed; he careened off-balance and crashed into the ruined steps of Piade's central fountain. The struggle ground to a halt.
Jack strode forward, each step leaving frost in its wake. He planted the butt of his axe on the snow, and his small-cosmos aura pulsed around him like a living shield. The surviving great-swords—Flora, Milia, Kreia, and the rest—emerged from cover, eyes wide with relief.
Riculdo lay half-buried in shattered stone, silver eyes flickering as he fought to rise. In his pit of defeat, he spat bitterly, "So this is… humanity's will."
Jack raised his axe overhead. "It's more than that," he said. "It's hope." He brought the axe down in a slow, decisive arc—frost rippling outward in a final statement.
The impact rang like a bell in the silent square. Light and shadow danced across broken pillars as Riculdo's head separated from his body, tumbling into the snow.
A hush fell. Then Flora dropped to her knees, tears mingling with the frost. Kreia and Milia exchanged glances—relief, awe, sorrow all mingled in that silent communion.
Jack Harper withdrew Slashwind Axe from the amulet at his belt and knelt beside the nearest fallen comrade, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "You fought well," he said quietly. "Now rest. We'll rebuild from here."
As the wind whipped across the empty streets of Piade, the small cosmos within each great-sword warrior pulsed softly—a testament to shared sacrifice, new alliances, and a world reborn through ice and steel.