A deep frown creased Jasmin's face as he stood frozen, his fingers twitching over the grip of his bow. His heart hammered against his ribs. His mind raced.
What should he do?
On one hand, he had sworn his allegiance to King Yaron. A king he had served with unwavering loyalty.
Yet—before him stood Naritsa.
Not just a princess. Not just a Guardian Vessel.
But a symbol of resistance. A force that commanded his unspoken devotion.
His breath came shallow, the cold biting at his skin as hesitation coiled around his limbs like iron chains.
And Naritsa?
She saw it. She saw everything.
Her piercing ruby eyes flicked to him, reading his very soul. She understood.
And so—she turned.
Her gaze settled upon Yaron, and a slow, almost playful smirk curved her lips.
"It's already twilight… Your Majesty," she mused, her voice laced with mockery.
Yaron's brows twitched at her tone. He scowled.
Then—
A sound.
A long, eerie howl.
It began as a whisper, curling through the frost-laden air like a breath from the abyss. It was distant at first, almost indistinct. But then it multiplied, growing in volume and intensity.
A second howl. A third.
And then—a chorus of unearthly growls and wails erupted from all directions.
The temperature plummeted.
The snowfall thickened, but it was no longer gentle—it churned violently, twisting into an unnatural mist that slithered through the streets. The ghostly fog swirled between the soldiers, wrapping around their legs like creeping hands reaching from the afterlife.
Yaron's soldiers stiffened.
Their grips tightened on their weapons. Their guardian beasts began growling, ears flattening, but muscles coiling—ready to defend their masters.
Then, from the mist, they emerged.
Shadowy entities, half-formed and writhing, shifting between vapor and solid flesh. Their hollow eyes burned with spectral hunger, their jagged mouths stretched into silent screams. Some drifted like wraiths, their forms twisting unnaturally, while others prowled on elongated limbs, moving like predators starved for centuries.
The specters of the Ghost Land had begun their haunting march.
A soldier screamed as a phantom lunged at him, its ethereal claws slashing through his armor like it was paper. Another fell to his knees, his eyes rolling back as a ghostly hand sank into his chest, stealing the breath from his lungs.
Chaos erupted.
Soldiers scrambled, weapons clanking as they instinctively tried to defend themselves.
But how do you fight the damned?
The answer lay in power—true power.
Enchanted weapons shimmering with holy energy, carved through the specters like fire through mist. Then, there were the guardian beasts—classic-levels and those of higher ranks standing as their masters' last line of defense.
Their fangs and claws tore into the apparitions with fury. Ethereal wails filled the battlefield as the guardians clashed with the specters, their forms raging with the raw force of their masters' wills.
But not all were so fortunate.
Those who hosted guardians beneath the classic tier—lesser creatures without the strength to ward off the supernatural—stood no chance. One by one, they fell—their protectors shattering into piles of ash.
More howls. More growls. More twisted figures emerged from the night.
And in the middle of it all—Yaron stood tall.
His lips twisted into a scoff. His fingers tightened around his double-headed axe, the massive blade gleaming even through the thickening mist. He effortlessly slashed it through the air, ripping an approaching specter apart without even gazing in its direction.
"You think a few ghosts will change the inevitable?" His voice was sharp and confident, directed toward Naritsa.
But she didn't reply. Instead, her gaze shifted back to Jasmin.
"Choose."
Her voice was calm, yet absolute.
"Where does your loyalty truly lie?"
Jasmin's jaw tightened, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His fingers curled into a fist. He could feel it—the weight of the moment, the decisive split between duty and what he knew was right. His loyalty had always been to Ghost Land, to the people, not to the corrupt choices of a power-hungry ruler.
His heart pounded.
And in that moment—his decision was made.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," he muttered under his breath.
Then—he struck.
In a blur of motion, his bow flashed in the dim, eerie glow of the battlefield, his fingers releasing an arrow in a deadly arc—aimed directly for Yaron's heart.
But the king was no mere warrior.
His movements were sharp, brutal, and practiced. With a powerful swing, his double-headed axe cleaved the arrow in midair, shattering it into useless fragments. The force of the swing sent a gust of displaced air howling through the mist.
"You dare defy your king?" Yaron's voice was a growl, his eyes burning with something beyond mere rage—betrayal. He took a menacing step forward, dragging the axe beside him, the blade carving a jagged trail in the frozen ground. "You turn your back on Ghost Land? You spit on your own people's safety?"
Jasmin didn't waver. He planted his stance, his muscles taut with unshaken resolve.
"Ghost Land deserves more than to be shackled in fear of the Gog Empire," Jasmin said, his voice firm despite the roar of battle around them. "You've sold us to tyrants, not saved us."
Yaron sneered, his grip tightening around his weapon. "Then you will burn for this treachery."
He lunged.
A monstrous swing—fast, despite its size. The axe whistled through the air, slicing straight toward Jasmin's torso. The commander barely evaded, his feet skidding across the frost-bitten ground as the sheer force of the attack sent ice and snow exploding in all directions.
"Go!" Jasmin shouted at Naritsa and the others, already drawing another arrow, aiming straight for the king's heart. "I'll hold him off!"
Naritsa's expression was calm, unreadable—but her eyes flashed with silent gratitude.
He would fight to protect them.
She would not let that be in vain.
"Be careful, Commander," she murmured, her voice laced with urgency.
She turned, summoning Lila, her unicorn guardian. The ethereal beast burst forth, its celestial glow illuminating the battlefield, pushing back the creeping fog and the lurking specters. It pawed at the ground, its iridescent mane shimmering like molten silver beneath the flickering twilight.
With one swift motion, she mounted Lila, her cloak flaring as she extended a hand to Laria and Daryl.
"Come."
They didn't hesitate. The two leaped onto the unicorn's back, and with a powerful thrust of its hooves, Lila charged forward, piercing through the battlefield like a streak of divine light. The fog parted before them, fleeing from the purity of the unicorn's light. The remaining specters shrieked in the distance, unwilling to challenge the presence of a Guardian Vessel.
But for Nebula?
He remained behind, caught in a clash against a swarm of soldiers and their summoned guardians. His movements were agile, deadly—each strike landing with brutal precision. He danced between enemies, dodging and countering with gun shots that sent soldiers to the afterlife all while avoiding the cursed touch of the specters that clawed at the living.
Jasmin's eyes narrowed as he watched from across the battlefield.
Something was off.
From the very beginning of this battle, Nebula had yet to summon a guardian beast.
Was he merely confident in his own martial prowess? Or… was there something else that perhaps, others knew besides him?
Before Jasmin could ponder further—
A blade of death came for him.
Yaron's axe sliced through the air, barely missing Jasmin's throat by a mere inch.
The icy wind that followed was so sharp, it burned against the commander's skin. Before he could react, a heavy kick slammed into his abdomen.
Crack!
The sheer force sent him flying. He hit the frozen ground, snow erupting in a cloud around him as his back slammed into a half-crumbled stone pillar. Pain ripped through his ribs, his vision spinning as he gasped for breath.
"How dare you let your attention waver in my presence?" Yaron spat in rage and disgust, his axe resting on his shoulder, his fur-armored cloak billowing in the wind.
A violent surge of purple aura erupted from his body, pulsating like a living force, thick with the weight of something monstrous. The ground trembled as a towering figure stepped forward from the void of swirling energy, its hulking silhouette standing guard behind him.
A beast of nightmares.
The Minotaur.
Seven feet of raw muscle and unrelenting strength.
Its thick hide bore the scars of countless battles. In its monstrous hands, it wielded twin battle axes—weapons identical to its master's. The ground trembled beneath its hooves as it exhaled, its breath like smoke from a furnace.
Jasmin's heart pounded.
He knew. He knew exactly what kind of horror he was up against.
Minotaurs weren't just powerful and deadly—they were a terrifying anomaly among myth-level beasts. While most granted their hosts only one specialty ability, these monsters offered two:
Superhuman Strength.
Berserker Rage.
A single one of these abilities was enough to turn an ordinary warrior into a one-man army. With both, Yaron's already formidable presence became something truly nightmarish.
Jasmin felt the icy grip of dread coil around his heart. He was outmatched, outclassed. Against a Minotaur and its barbaric host, he was staring into the face of certain death.
But he clenched his jaw, swallowing the fear threatening to consume him.
If he was going to die, he would die fighting.
With a sharp inhale, his eyes glowed white.
A deafening trumpet-like roar split through the cold air as an enormous mammoth materialized from the mist beside him.
His guardian.
It was a rare-level beast, the strongest amongst other rare-levels. Its hulking form was covered in thick, ice-coated fur, its tusks glistening like shards under the moonlight. It was a creature of immense fortitude and resilience. A warrior's shield.
But Jasmin knew the truth.
No matter how strong his guardian was—it was still inferior to a myth-level beast.
And yet, Jasmin prepared to charge.
Every muscle in his body tensed. He would fight to the last breath.
But then—
Yaron stilled.
His head tilted slightly, his gaze shifting past Jasmin, past the raging battlefield, into the swirling fog.
A sinister smirk crept onto his lips.
"You'll be dealt with—but not now," his voice was calm. Cold. Absolute.
"Right now, the princess and the guardianless criminal must be retrieved—at all costs."
Then—he moved.
Like a black comet streaking through the battlefield.
The ground shattered beneath his stride, his Minotaur thundering forward beside him, each step shaking the very foundations of the frozen land.
Jasmin's breath hitched. Naritsa. Daryl.
They were in danger.
"No!" He growled, drawing his bow, his fingers pulling the string back with deadly intent.
But before he could release—
A deathly shriek.
Multiple ghostly hands.
The shadows around him suddenly twisted and coiled, forming into a swarm of wailing specters.
They lunged toward him and his guardian, their hollow eyes burning with a hunger beyond the grave.
Jasmin's mammoth fought.
But the specters were persistent, their icy touch clawing at his flesh, threatening to drag him into the abyss.
He could no longer see Yaron.
He could no longer see Nebula.
All that remained—was the howling void.