"On your feet, you devilish scum!" The horse rider's voice thundered with cruel authority.
His fur-lined cloak billowed wildly as he spun the leather whip through the air, the weapon coiling like a venomous serpent ready to strike.
The battered blonde boy barely flinched, his body too weak, too spent to respond. Tears mixed with dirt and blood on his bruised face as he braced for the inevitable lash—
But it never came.
Instead, the whip jerked mid-strike, the taut leather straining against an unknown force.
Gasps erupted from the crowd. The bystanders, previously indifferent, now turned their attention toward the confrontation unfolding before them.
The horse rider, momentarily stunned, glared down at the dark-skinned man who dared to intervene. His fury ignited.
"You bastard!" he spat, yanking at the whip in a futile attempt to reclaim it. "Mind your own damn business!"
Nebula, the interferer, stood with an iron grip around the whip. His jaw clenched, his eyes burning with rage. Snowflakes dusted his grey coat, his broad shoulders heaving slightly as he stared down the rider with an expression so deadly it sent an involuntary shiver down the man's spine.
Without a word, he jerked the whip backward with brutal strength, ripping it from the rider's grasp.
Snap!
Nebula lashed the whip against the horse's flank. The beast neighed in shock and pain, its hooves slipping against the icy ground before violently rearing up. The rider had no time to react—his balance shattered.
Thud!
He crashed face-first into the snow, a muffled grunt escaping his lips as he ate a mouthful of ice and dirt.
Bystanders murmured among themselves, a mixture of shock and curiosity spreading through the streets. Naritsa and Laria, drawn by the commotion, pushed through the crowd, their expressions laced with concern.
The fallen rider groaned, his body trembling with rage-fueled adrenaline as he staggered to his feet. He spit out the cold filth in his mouth, his glare now murderous.
A pulsing green aura enveloped his entire body, the energy flickering like a storm trapped beneath his skin.
"You just made the biggest mistake of your life, punk," he growled.
With a swift motion, he thrust his right hand sideways, summoning his guardian beast.
A flash of green light erupted from his palm, swirling violently before materializing into the shape of a German Shepherd dog.
The beast stepped forth, its fur bristling, its eyes glowing an eerie hazel hue. Its form was battle-worn, scars marring its thick coat. Its gaze locked onto its master's enemy, lips curling back to reveal razor-sharp fangs dripping with saliva.
The dog's clawed paws scraped against the ice, anticipation crackling like static in the tense silence.
Nebula stared with a chilling indifference, unfazed by the presence of the guardian beast. He exhaled sharply, his breath forming a misty cloud in the freezing air.
"All that fuss for a common-level beast?" he murmured while cracking his knuckles, his voice carrying effortlessly through the hush of the watching crowd.
His footsteps were slow, deliberate, each one crunching against the icy ground as he advanced toward his opponent.
The rider's face twisted with fury, his pride wounded by Nebula's sheer disregard. "Kill him!" he snarled, pointing toward his enemy with a trembling, rage-filled hand.
With a guttural growl, the beast lunged.
A blur of fur and fangs. Clawed paws shredding through the air. Its jaws stretched wide, teeth poised to rip into flesh—
But Nebula was faster.
His body twisted fluidly as he dodged the attack, his coat billowing from the force of the beast's leap. The icy wind howled around him as he slid to the side, his boots grinding against the snow-packed ground.
With lightning precision, he lashed out.
Crack!
The whip struck through the air, its coils wrapping around the beast's thick neck in a brutal chokehold.
The German Shepherd yelped, its body yanked off balance. It thrashed, its claws scraping against the ground in a desperate attempt to break free—but Nebula gave it no chance.
With a violent flick of his wrist, he wrenched the beast sideways, sending it hurtling through the air. It crashed into a wooden shop stall, shattering crates and knocking over baskets of produce.
Gasps erupted from the watching crowd.
The rider cursed under his breath, his patience snapping like brittle ice. His trembling fingers shot into his fur-lined coat, wrapping around cold steel.
In one swift motion, he yanked out a revolver and aimed directly at Nebula's head.
But before he could even squeeze the trigger—
Crack!
The whip lashed out once more, coiling around the man's wrist with unrelenting force.
"AARGH!" The rider screamed as the weapon was wrenched from his grasp, his gun flipping midair in a metallic spiral. In a seamless motion, Nebula snatched it from the air, its cold steel settling perfectly in his grasp.
The rider barely had a moment to react before the whip snaked around his neck, tightening like a vice. His eyes bulged in terror as he was yanked forward, his body hurtling toward Nebula with frightening speed.
And then—
Thwack!
Nebula's fist crashed into his face like a battering ram, the sheer force lifting the man off his feet before slamming him mercilessly onto the icy ground.
A heavy silence fell over the street. The crowd stood motionless, watching the fallen man with wide eyes.
Nebula exhaled, watching as a faint wisp of steam escaped his lips in the freezing air. He crouched down, his brown eyes studying his unconscious opponent.
His grip on the revolver tightened briefly before he retrieved extra ammunition from the man's coat, tucking them securely into his belt.
Then, he dropped the whip beside the fallen rider.
"Be grateful you still breathe," he murmured, his voice low and cutting through the cold air.
He straightened himself, shifting his gaze toward the battered blonde boy who was still bound in chains. "No innocent should be subjected to slavery and torture." His expression was unreadable as he took a step forward.
Naritsa and Laria pushed through the sea of onlookers, their concern evident as they tried to reach him. But before they could get close, the Ghost Land soldiers closed in, their steel boots crunching over the frost-bitten ground as they cut off all possible escape routes.
The situation had just escalated beyond a simple street skirmish.
They encircled Nebula, their drawn weapons glistening under the pale winter sun, their guardian beasts growling low with restrained menace.
And then—
"What's going on here?"
A calm yet authoritative voice sliced through the murmur of the crowd.
The soldiers instantly stiffened, making way for their apparent leader—a tall, dark-skinned man with long white-dyed braids flowing down his back like woven silk. His physique was lean yet battle-hardened, his stance fluid but brimming with confidence. A finely crafted bow clutched firmly in his hand, its polished surface reflecting the dim winter light. A quiver of arrows slung across his back, positioned for quick retrieval. His eyes, though half-lidded in nonchalance, held a piercing sharpness beneath the surface.
He stopped a few feet away, his gaze assessing Nebula with quiet intensity.
"And who are you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Nebula's jaw tightened.
Even without exchanging blows, he could feel it.
This man was strong.
Far stronger than the arrogant horse rider he had just taken down.
Stronger than most of the people in this city.
Yet, Nebula's defiant nature refused to yield.
His scowl deepened, and with a subtle, deliberate shift of his stance, he steadied himself. His fingers twitched near the revolver tucked at his belt, his muscles coiling like a viper ready to strike.
"It depends on who's asking." His voice was sharp, unwavering and bold.
A chilling silence followed.
Then—
"Very well."
A sharp glint flashed in the archer's eyes.
Whoosh!
In an instant, his eyes blazed white, their eerie glow casting an otherworldly gleam against his dark complexion. His posture shifted seamlessly into battle-readiness, his bow raised in a blur of movement, an arrow already notched, drawn back, and aimed directly at Nebula's heart.
From behind him, a massive, guardian beast began materializing—a mammoth-like entity cloaked in a shimmering, ghostly aura.
"Enough with the violence!"
Naritsa's voice suddenly rang out like a war drum, filled with regal authority and fiery indignation.
Then came the flames.
A howling gust of fiery energy erupted from her, whipping through the crowd like a roaring tempest. The snow-laden streets, once gripped by frigid air, now shimmered with intense heat.
A piercing screech followed.
Towering behind her was a majestic phoenix, its elegant wings ablaze with sapphire flames.
Haila—a legend-level beast. One of the four Beast Kings of Jebaddon Island.
Its luminous blue fire danced wildly, licking at the air yet consuming nothing but fear itself. Its powerful talons dug into the frozen earth, melting the snow beneath, while its cyan eyes glowed with an untamed ferocity.
The moment recognition struck, the crowd scattered in terror, their panicked cries filling the street.
Even the elite guards, once steadfast in their circle around Nebula, hesitated, stepping back in awe.
But the white-braided archer?
He dropped to one knee.
Head bowed toward Naritsa and her fiery guardian.
His voice, once sharp and challenging, now carried a tone of reverence.
"Princess Naritsa, host of the Daughter of Fire, and the legendary Guardian Vessel," he declared with unwavering respect. "You warm us all with your presence."
Nebula's breath hitched. His mind reeled, struggling to grasp the weight of what had just been said. His gaze flickered to Naritsa—his companion, the one he had traveled with all this time.
"A Guardian Vessel?" he echoed, disbelief clouding his features.
His memories flashed back to childhood tales told in the orphanage, whisperings of an ultra-rare breed of hosts—people capable of commanding not just one, but multiple guardian beasts—much like the feared Guardian Hunters of the Gog Empire. Their power was said to rival that of an entire kingdom, their existence so scarce that they were feared, worshipped, or hunted by empires.
He had thought they were just legends.
But never, not even in his wildest dreams, did he imagine that he would stand beside one.
The kneeling archer lifted his head slightly, his eyes steady as they met Nebula's.
"Yes," he affirmed. "And only four Guardian Vessels can exist in this world. But at present, only two have been confirmed—the noble Princess Naritsa before us… and the King of Shade Vermilion."
The name alone sent a shiver down Nebula's spine.
A second Guardian Vessel existed. And if this Shade Vermilion king was anything like Naritsa—his power could be terrifying.
Naritsa's gaze remained steady as she regarded the kneeling young man before her.
"You're quite knowledgeable." Her voice, though composed, carried an undertone of intrigue. "Who are you?"
The air around them, still thick with lingering tension, gradually settled as the legendary blazing Phoenix, Haila, dissolved into shimmering embers, vanishing into nothingness. In its place, a new presence emerged.
A soft yet radiant glow formed behind Naritsa, and from it, a magnificent white unicorn stepped forth. Its silken white mane shimmered like strands of moonlight, its spiraled horn pulsing with a gentle aura. It was the myth-level guardian, Lila.
The kneeling archer raised his head slightly, his long, white-dyed braids swaying as he spoke. "I am Jasmin, Your Highness. Commander of a quarter of the Ghost Land forces… and tamer of a rare-level beast."
Naritsa regarded him for a moment before offering a respectful nod. "A pleasure, Commander Jasmin." Her voice held a regal warmth, her posture softening.
Then, her gaze shifted toward the frail, battered blonde boy who lay in the snow, the very child Nebula had fought to save. His small frame trembled in the freezing air, shackles still clinging to his wrists and ankles. His tattered clothes barely offered protection from the relentless cold.
"If you wouldn't mind," she continued, "I must tend to that child."
Jasmin, understanding her intent, silently stepped aside, lifting a hand to signal his men not to interfere.
Naritsa moved with grace, her royal garments fluttering gently in the icy wind. Nebula and Laria followed her with urgency, their boots crunching against the frost-covered ground as they reached the boy.
Then, the air shifted once more.
Behind Naritsa, Lila's horn began to glow, casting a warm, silver light. That same radiance flowed into Naritsa's hands, illuminating them with an ethereal glow as she knelt beside the boy.
The moment her fingertips brushed against his trembling hands, a surge of divine energy coursed through him. The crowd gasped in astonishment as the boy's injuries rapidly healed, bruises fading, cuts sealing shut, and his body regaining warmth and strength.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he no longer felt pain.
Eyes wide with disbelief, the boy quickly prostrated himself before Naritsa, pressing his forehead against the frost-covered ground.
"Thank you, Your Highness. I owe you my life." His voice was thick with emotion, barely above a whisper.
Naritsa offered a small, reassuring smile, but before she could respond, the boy turned toward Nebula, his bright eyes locking onto the man who had first intervened.
"And thank you, sir… for rescuing me." His newly healed hands clenched into fists of gratitude. "I owe you as well."
Nebula, arms crossed, gave a humble scoff.
"Just call me Nebula," he said, his expression softer now. "No need for formalities."
Then he crouched down slightly so he could meet the boy's gaze. "What's your name?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded, exhaling deeply as if releasing the fear that had gripped him for so long.
"My name is Daryl."