The triumph of defeating the Crust-Boar was a fleeting, fragile thing. It had shattered the moment the ring's voice, cold and alien, had spoken in Leo's mind. Now, standing over his hard-won kill, Leo felt no pride, only a deep, chilling unease. The ring wasn't just a passive tool; it was an observer, a judge. And it had found him merely 'adequate.'
Mira was staring at him, her concern for his well-being momentarily overriding her fear of the disembodied voice. "Leo, we need to get out of here. Now. That thing… whatever it is… it's inside your head. This is bad. This is worse than bad."
He could only nod, his throat tight. He wanted to explain, to tell her everything, but the words were stuck. The secret had become a living thing, coiling around his vocal cords.
That's when the world went silent.
It wasn't a gradual quieting. It was instantaneous, as if a great, sound-absorbing blanket had been thrown over the entire Shattered Ridge. The constant, faint hum of wild mana vanished. The whisper of the wind through the jagged rocks died. The distant cry of a hunting hawk was cut off mid-screech.
The only sound was the frantic thumping of Leo's own heart, a drumbeat of primal fear.
Then came the aura.
It washed over them not like a wave, but like a tide of liquid lead, heavy and suffocating. It was a pressure that pushed down on their shoulders, compressed their lungs, and made the very air feel thick and hard to breathe. It was a palpable sense of dominance, a raw, predatory power that declared this territory its own.
Leo's muscles locked. His breath hitched in his chest. Every instinct, every fiber of his being, screamed one single, silent command: DO NOT MOVE.
He managed to turn his head, a movement that felt like wading through solid stone. His eyes met Mira's. Her face was a mask of pure, unadulterated terror. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the strap of her pack. A single, silent tear traced a path through the grime on her cheek, followed by another. She wasn't sobbing; her body was too frozen for that. It was a quiet, hopeless overflow of despair. She knew, just as he did. This was it. This was the end they had foolishly walked into.
His gaze was dragged away from her, pulled towards the deep shadows between two massive, spear-like rock formations fifty yards away. The darkness there was wrong. It was deeper than it should be, a pool of absolute blackness that seemed to drink the weak grey light of the day.
Something shifted within that darkness.
A shape began to detach itself, moving with a slow, deliberate grace that was horrifying in its silence. It emerged from the shadows, and with each step, the oppressive aura intensified, a physical weight trying to force them to their knees.
It was a bear. Or it had been, once. Its fur was a matted, pitch-black, and its size was monstrous, standing at least twelve feet tall at the shoulder. But its head was a nightmare of exposed bone plating and beady, intelligent red eyes that burned with a cold, ancient malice. A crown of jagged, obsidian-like spikes erupted from its skull and ran down the length of its spine.
And then there were the arms.
Six of them.
They sprouted from its massive torso in two rows, each limb thick with corded muscle and ending in claws that were like curved daggers of black iron. They moved with an unnerving, independent fluidity, two of them scraping the stone ground, two held ready at its sides, and the upper two flexing, the claws extending and retracting as if in anticipation.
This was no E-Rank monster. This wasn't even a standard B-Rank. This was a predator from a deeper, darker stratum of reality, a creature that had no business being this close to a beginner's hunting ground. It must have been drawn by the commotion of the fight, the scent of the Crust-Boar's blood, and the spike of Leo's mana.
The Six-Armed Warden. The name surfaced from the deepest, most terrified part of Leo's memory, a footnote in a forbidden bestiary he'd once snuck a peek at in the academy archives. Peak C-Rank. Territorial. Erratic migrations. Lethal.
It took a single, ground-shaking step towards them. The movement was casual, unhurried. It knew they couldn't run. They were prey, pinned and paralyzed.
Another tear rolled down Mira's cheek. She let out a small, choked whimper. The sound, so full of utter defeat, broke the spell of frozen terror that held Leo.
No.
The thought was a spark in the overwhelming darkness of his fear. He had brought her here. His stubborn pride, his desperate need to get stronger, had led them to this cliff's edge. He would not let her fall because of him. He would not let her die.
His body screamed in protest as he fought against the crushing aura. It felt like trying to move while buried alive. His left hand, trembling violently, rose. His right hand, clumsy and numb, fumbled with the finger of his glove.
The Warden took another step, its six eyes fixed on him, a low, subsonic growl beginning to vibrate through the rock beneath their feet. It was the sound of the earth itself cracking open.
Leo ripped the glove off.
The simple silver ring gleamed dully in the grey light. It felt ice-cold against his skin.
This was not like the desperate, hopeful prayer in the wyrm's dungeon. This was not like the calculated risk in the alley. This was a surrender. An admission that his own strength, his hard-won 3.0 mana, was a pathetic, meaningless speck against the titanic power before them. He was throwing himself on the mercy of a mysterious, alien artifact, hoping it would throw him a lifeline strong enough to save not just himself, but her.
He slammed his will into the ring, a single, desperate, mental scream.
HELP US!
The world dissolved into a maelstrom of silver light.
It erupted from the ring, not in a flash, but in a swirling, violent vortex that engulfed him. He felt his consciousness being pulled, stretched, and yanked through dimensions. Sensations and memories that were not his own flooded his mind—the scent of rain on a city street, the feeling of incredible speed, a deep-seated loneliness, and a fierce, protective love for a sister.
The voice of the ring was a calm, dispassionate anchor in the psychic storm.
"Manifesting: Yusuke Urameshi. Yu Yu Hakusho. Duration: One Hour."
The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.
Leo stood, but he felt… different. Lighter. The crushing aura of the Warden was still there, a heavy blanket of dread, but it no longer pressed him to the ground. He felt a new energy coursing through his veins, a crackling, electric power that was both alien and instinctively his.
He looked at his hands. They were still his hands, but they thrummed with potential. His senses were dialed to eleven. He could see the individual pores in the Warden's hide from fifty yards away. He could hear the frantic, rabbit-quick beat of Mira's heart. He could smell the ozone of his own new energy and the rotten-meat scent of the monster's breath.
His clothing had subtly shifted. His worn jacket and pants remained, but they seemed to fit with a new, sharper edge. A confident, almost reckless smirk tugged at his lips, a foreign expression that felt completely natural.
"Hey, ugly," he said, and his voice was layered with a new, cocky resonance. "Picking on kids? That's pretty low, even for a overgrown furball with too many arms."
The Warden, which had paused its advance, seemed to process this sudden change. The prey was no longer cowering. It was… talking back. A deeper, more furious growl rumbled in its chest.
Behind him, Mira gasped. "L-Leo? Your… your eyes…"
He glanced back at her, and she flinched. His eyes, she saw, were no longer their familiar, determined brown. They were a sharp, piercing teal, filled with a fiery, untamable spirit she had never seen in him before.
"Stay right there, Mira," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was a command, but laced with a protective warmth. "I'm gonna teach this guy some manners."
The Warden decided that the talking, glowing prey needed to be silenced. It roared, a sound that finally broke the unnatural silence of the ridge, a deafening blast of hatred that made the very rocks tremble. It didn't charge. Instead, it swung one of its massive lower arms, slamming its clawed fist into the ground.
A shockwave of pure physical force and dark mana erupted, tearing a fissure in the earth that raced towards Leo at incredible speed.
The old Leo would have been pulverized.
Yusuke-Urameshi-infused Leo simply leaped.
He didn't just jump; he shot into the air with impossible agility, a casual backflip that carried him twenty feet up, easily clearing the destructive wave. He landed lightly on a jagged outcrop, looking down at the beast.
"Whoa! A little warning next time!" he yelled, a grin spreading across his face. "That almost messed up my hair!"
The Warden, enraged, reacted with terrifying speed. Two of its upper arms shot out, not at Leo, but at the base of the rock pillar he was standing on. Its claws, sharper than any mining tool, sheared through the solid stone.
The pillar groaned and began to topple.
"Okay, not just a dumb brute," Leo muttered, his new instincts assessing the threat. He kicked off the falling rock, spinning in mid-air. As he flew, he pointed a finger at the Warden's face. "Let's see how you like this! Rei Gun!"
A sphere of brilliant, blue-white spiritual energy—raw life force shaped into a projectile—erupted from his fingertip. It wasn't huge, about the size of his fist, but it screamed through the air with the sound of tearing fabric, leaving a faint blue trail.
The Warden, surprised by the ranged attack, brought two of its middle arms up in a cross-block.
The Rei Gun struck.
BOOM!
The explosion of spiritual energy wasn't fiery, but concussive and bright. The Warden was knocked back a single, stumbling step, a smoldering, blackened crater now visible on the crossed arms it had used as a shield. It wasn't a serious wound, but it was the first time anything had ever made it feel pain in this territory. It shook its massive head and let out a roar of pure, unadulterated fury.
For Leo, the feedback was immediate. Using the Rei Gun had drawn significantly on the power lent to him. He could feel the "one hour" clock ticking down a little faster. This form was agile and powerful, but its signature attack was costly. He couldn't spam it. He had to be smart.
The Warden abandoned all caution. It charged, its six arms working in a horrifyingly coordinated symphony of destruction. Two arms swept low to trip and crush. Two more hammered down from above. The final two shot forward in a piercing lunge, aiming to impale him from both sides.
It was an attack designed to be impossible to dodge.
But Yusuke Urameshi had spent his life (and afterlife) in fights against impossible odds.
Leo didn't try to block. He didn't try to retreat. He moved into the attack. He dropped into a slide, passing under the low sweep. As the hammer fists came down, he used one of them as a springboard, kicking off the bony wrist to launch himself vertically between the two lunging strikes. The claws whistled past his chest, missing by inches.
He was now inside the monster's guard, right in front of its chest.
"Too slow, furball!" he taunted, and unleashed a blindingly fast combo of punches and kicks into the beast's torso. Each impact landed with a solid, meaty thud, infused with crackling spiritual energy. The Warden grunted with each blow, its advance halted.
But its hide was incredibly thick. The attacks were annoying it, stinging it, but not doing any real damage. One of its lower arms, impossibly flexible, bent backwards and swatted at him like he was a fly.
The blow caught him on the shoulder and sent him flying. He tumbled through the air, twisting to land in a skidding crouch that tore up the ground, his shoulder screaming in pain. The confident smirk was gone, replaced by a grimace. This thing was a tank.
Okay, new plan. Can't trade blows. Gotta find a weak spot.
His teal eyes scanned the monster with frantic intensity as it turned to face him again. The bony head-plating, the spiked back, the thick hide… it was all too well armored. Then his gaze fell on the eyes. Those six, burning red points of malice.
The Warden, perhaps sensing his line of thought, lowered its head, protecting its eyes with its upper arms. It began to gather dark, purplish-black energy in its maw, the air around it warping and sizzling.
A beam attack. He couldn't outrun a wide-area beam in this open space. He had to stop it before it fired.
He pushed off the ground, sprinting directly towards the charging beast. The Rei Gun was too slow to charge for a precise shot. He needed something faster, something more focused.
The memory surfaced—a technique for channeling spirit energy into a single, devastating point on a finger. A sacrifice play. The Spirit Shotgun.
He poured his energy, the borrowed power of Yusuke Urameshi, into the index finger of his right hand. It glowed with an intense, concentrated white light, so bright it was painful to look at. The Warden' mouth was now fully illuminated by the destructive energy it was about to unleash.
"LEO, NOW!" Mira screamed from the sidelines, her fear for him overriding her own terror.
He leaped, not away, but straight towards the monster's face. He saw the six red eyes widen in surprise.
He jammed his glowing finger directly into one of them.
"EAT THIS!"
He unleashed the Spirit Shotgun.
There was no loud explosion this time. Instead, a horrific, wet POP echoed through the ridge, followed by a shriek of agony from the Warden that was entirely different from its previous roars. It was a sound of pure, visceral pain. The dark energy in its maw fizzled and died as it jerked its head back violently, flinging Leo away like a ragdoll.
Leo hit the ground hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop. His right arm was numb, his finger bleeding and smoking from the backlash of the point-blank technique. He was bruised, battered, and his spiritual energy reserves felt dangerously low.
But he pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking back at the beast.
The Six-Armed Warden was stumbling backwards, one of its six red eyes now a ruined, bubbling socket of black goo. It was blind on one side. It swung its arms wildly, smashing the landscape in its pain and rage, its coordination shattered.
It was hurt. Truly hurt.
Leo struggled to his feet, his body protesting every movement. The teal light in his eyes was flickering. The one-hour clock was in its final minutes. He had won them a chance. Not victory, but a chance to live.
"Mira!" he yelled, his voice strained. "Run! That way! Don't look back!"
Mira, who had been frozen in a new kind of awe and horror, snapped to action. She didn't hesitate. She turned and sprinted in the direction he pointed, towards the thicker part of the forest, away from the outpost.
The Warden, though blinded and in pain, still had five functioning eyes, and they all locked onto Leo with a hatred that promised a slow, agonizing death. It began to advance again, more slowly now, but with a single-minded purpose.
Leo stood his ground, putting himself between the monster and Mira's retreating back. He had to buy her time. He had to hold it here until the power faded.
He raised his hands, gathering the very last dregs of the spiritual energy. A faint, sputtering blue aura flickered around his fists.
"Come on then," he panted, a bloody but defiant grin on his face. "The night's still young."
The Warden charged.
And Leo charged right back.
He didn't make it three steps before the power left him.
The teal light vanished from his eyes. The electric feeling in his veins disappeared. The confident, reckless spirit of the Spirit Detective was gone, leaving only a bruised, exhausted, and terrified seventeen-year-old boy facing down a mountain of enraged flesh and bone.
His legs gave out. He collapsed to his knees, utterly spent, his own meager 3.0 mana completely drained from the ordeal of channeling such immense power.
The Six-Armed Warden loomed over him, its hot, foul breath washing over him, its five good eyes burning with the promise of vengeance. It raised one of its upper arms, the claws gleaming, ready to smash him into a red paste.
Leo looked up, too exhausted to even be afraid anymore.
I'm sorry, Mira.
A silver glint caught his eye. The ring on his finger was now warm, almost hot. The voice spoke again, its final message for this cycle.
"Manifestation concluded. Vessel integrity: 32%. Cooldown initiated."
The claw descended.
And from the trees to the Warden's blind side, a thunderous roar echoed, followed by a massive fireball that slammed into the beast's head with the force of a cannonball.
The Warden was thrown sideways, its killing blow going wide and gouging a trench in the earth next to Leo.
Leo looked over, stunned.
Standing at the tree line, their weapons drawn and faces set in grim determination, was a team of hunters. And leading them, a massive warhammer still smoking from the launched fireball, was a man Leo recognized—Jorgen, the grizzled hunter from The Chattering Yeti.
"ON IT, YOU OVERGROWN PINCUSHION!" Jorgen bellowed. "Leave the kid alone!"
The Warden, now facing a new, fully-armed threat, forgot about the broken prey at its feet. It turned its fury on the hunting team, the battle beginning anew.
Leo didn't wait to see more. With the last of his strength, he scrambled to his feet and stumbled into the forest, following the path Mira had taken, the sounds of a colossal battle raging behind him. He had survived. But the cost, he knew, had been immense. The ring's true test had begun, and he had barely passed.