Please be informed that this chapter is long but rewarding with high reading experience and climax action scene.
The icy winds howled through the shattered cityscape, whipping against the burning embers of ruined buildings. The chaos of war raged on, but here—in the eye of the storm—three hosts and two guardians clashed in a battle of sheer will.
***
Nebula was relentless.
His revolvers flashed like twin bursts of lightning, each bullet a deadly promise aimed straight for Yaron's heart. But the king was no ordinary foe.
With ruthless precision, he spun his massive battle axe in fluid arcs, deflecting a majority of the shots. Sparks and ricochets danced through the air, but some bullets found their mark—tearing through flesh. The wounds were shallow, but they drew dark rivulets of blood, staining the icy ground beneath him.
Yaron's eyes flared with raw fury. He had had enough.
With a savage growl, he twisted his entire body, hurling his enormous axe toward Nebula with devastating force. The weapon cut through the air, splitting the mist apart like a reaper's scythe, its gleaming edge aimed to take the gunslinger's head clean off.
But Nebula was faster.
He dropped low at the last second, ducking beneath the lethal swing, his coat billowing as he slid clean between Yaron's legs in a seamless evasion. The wind from the axe's momentum rushed past him, close enough to taste the bite of death.
Before Yaron could react, Nebula twisted mid-slide, planting a hand against the icy ground and flipping back onto his feet with practiced grace.
He holstered his revolvers beneath his coat with fluid motion, his breath misting in the frigid air.
Yaron sneered, his eyes burning like a predator who refused to lose sight of his prey.
With a roar, the king lunged forward, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. His fist, fueled by the brute strength of his myth-level guardian, shot forward like a battering ram, aiming to shatter ribs and end the fight in one blow.
But Nebula was light as the wind.
A sidestep. A turn. A blur of movement.
The punch whistled past his face, missing by mere inches. In that moment, Nebula coiled his body, then lashed out with both legs—a flying double kick aimed straight at Yaron's armored chest.
Impact.
The king stumbled back—two steps, no more.
Nebula landed lightly, his boots skidding against the icy pavement. His eyes narrowed. That hit should've sent any normal man flying—but Yaron merely scoffed, his stance barely shaken.
Then, before Nebula could react—a shadow loomed over him.
Yaron was already upon him.
A calloused hand lashed out, fingers clamping around Nebula's throat like an iron vice. His eyes widened as his feet left the ground, his breath cut short by the sheer crushing force of the king's grip.
"You're fast, boy," Yaron sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "but speed means nothing when I can break you with my bare hands."
Then—
With monstrous strength, he swung Nebula's entire body through the air like a ragdoll and hurled him toward the crumbling remains of a nearby warehouse.
Wood splintered. Metal screamed. The entire structure shook on impact.
Nebula crashed through the rusted doors, his figure skidding across the dust-covered floor, debris raining down around him as he came to a painful halt.
Silence.
A cold breeze whistled through the shattered window panes, carrying the distant screams of battle. The dim moonlight spilled through the collapsed beams, casting eerie shadows over the ruined space.
Outside, Yaron cracked his neck, stepping forward through the rubble, his axe gleaming ominously in the moon's glow.
Meanwhile—
On the other end of the battlefield.
The ground shook beneath the weight of two myth-level colossi locked in combat.
Laria's Bigfoot and Yaron's Minotaur collided like warring titans, their roars tearing through the frozen air. Their blows sent shockwaves rippling through the frost-covered ground, ice cracking beneath their sheer power. Fists and axes clashed, each strike a test of dominance, their struggle illuminated by the eerie glow of the haunted city.
The Bigfoot, massive and agile, swung a thunderous fist—aiming to break through the Minotaur's armored hide. But the Minotaur, battle-hardened and unyielding, deflected the attack with a brutal swipe of its double-headed axe, countering with a devastating charge.
And then, in a deadly twist—
The Minotaur's axe was wrenched from its grip and sent clattering across the rubble-strewn street.
A flicker of triumph crossed the Bigfoot's eyes as it prepared to press its advantage. But it was a moment too soon.
With a savage bellow, the Minotaur lunged forward, its curved horns catching the taller guardian off guard—
Impaled.
A howl of agony tore from the Bigfoot's throat as the Minotaur's horns drove deep into its massive shoulder. Blood, thick and steaming against the frozen air, trickled down in dark rivulets, staining the battlefield.
"Vox!!"
Laria's eyes widened in pure horror, bound and unable to aid her injured guardian. She struggled against her restraints, her cries desperate. "Vox! Get up!"
The Bigfoot, its strength waning, let out a final defiant roar. It raised its massive fists and pummeled the Minotaur's skull, blow after devastating blow. Each strike was fueled by agony, desperation, and an unyielding loyalty to its host.
But the Minotaur refused to fall, fueled by its berserker rage.
With one monstrous heave, it seized the Bigfoot's towering frame, muscles bulging with unnatural strength.
And then—
Boom!
The ground shattered beneath them as the Minotaur slammed the Bigfoot down with a thunderous smackdown. The impact sent ripples of dust and debris exploding outward, the very earth groaning beneath the weight of its devastation.
The battle was over.
The Bigfoot lay unmoving, its enormous chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. It was unconscious—but alive.
The Minotaur loomed over its defeated foe, breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, eyes gleaming with victory. But it did not deliver the finishing blow.
Because it couldn't.
Unlike lower-tier guardians, myth-level beasts could only be slain if confronted by a legend-level beast or if their host perished first. And so, with the battle won, the Minotaur's crimson gaze slowly turned toward the true target—
Laria.
The towering beast reached down, retrieving the axe from the frozen ground, its massive frame casting a long, ominous shadow over her.
Laria's heartbeat pounded in her ears as she watched death approach, step by step. She struggled harder against her restraints, but it was useless.
Then—
"Nakamui!"
The beast halted mid-strike, its axe frozen inches from Laria's head.
Yaron's voice rang out through the battlefield, commanding and absolute.
"Not that one," the king declared, his tone dripping with authority. "She remains our prisoner."
Nakamui growled, but obeyed, its massive frame retreating as it lowered its weapon.
Yaron, however, had other prey in mind.
Turning away, he strode toward the center of the battlefield—where Nebula lay sprawled in the rubble, gasping for breath.
The gunslinger's body was exhausted from the relentless fight.
Yaron loomed over him, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
"But this one," he said coldly, wrapping an iron grip around Nebula's collar and lifting him off the ground like a broken doll.
"This one's death is a necessity."
With that, he hurled Nebula back down, the young fighter's body crashing against the frost-covered stones with a sickening thud.
Nebula's breath was ragged, his vision blurred from the relentless beating he had endured. Every muscle in his body screamed in pain, yet his spirit refused to break.
He was outmatched.
No matter how skilled he was, no matter how precise his bullets had been, raw strength had overwhelmed him. Yaron's unnatural power, fueled by his myth-level guardian, had been an unrelenting storm.
And now, that storm was coming for him again.
Through his hazy vision, Nebula watched as the Minotaur approached, each step a thunderous echo against the frost-crusted stone. Its red eyes gleamed beneath the howling night mist, battle-worn and enraged. Its breath was heavy, bestial, each exhale sending hot puffs of steam into the frigid air.
Nebula clenched his fists, his fingers twitching against the cold ground.
If I summon it…
A wave of emotions surged through him.
He could feel the presence of his new guardian beast lingering at the edges of his soul, waiting. But he hesitated.
Sara…
The memory of his former guardian—a she-wolf companion lost in battle—stabbed at his heart. She had given her life for him, for his survival. How could he simply move on? Accept another?
He bit his lip, frustration burning through his veins.
Even if he did summon his new guardian, it wouldn't change the facts.
A Smilodon. A mere rare-level beast.
Against a Minotaur—one of the strongest myth-level creatures in existence? It was suicide.
The thought of it—of fighting a losing battle with his life on the line—should have made him feel hopeless.
But then, another thought surfaced—Sara's last moments.
She didn't sacrifice herself so he could throw his life away.
If he died now, if he let his pride and grief drag him into a meaningless death, what would her sacrifice have been for?
She wouldn't have wanted this.
A fierce determination flared in his chest, igniting like a wildfire.
Live.
Nebula's aura suddenly surged.
A white burst of energy erupted around him, spiraling outward with the force of a storm. The battlefield trembled beneath his newfound resolve. The wind howled, picking up snow and ash, swirling them into a chaotic dance as the air hummed with power.
Something stirred.
A swirling vortex of shadows twisted and spiraled before him, bending reality with an eerie hum. The air grew thick, crackling with untamed power.
Across the battlefield, Yaron's gaze sharpened, his expression shifting from amusement to intrigue. The Ghost Land king sneered, sensing something formidable.
"Hahaha! Finally!" Yaron boomed, his voice echoing through the war-torn streets. "You summon your guardian. Such a powerful aura! Perhaps, you host a legend-level beast?"
Excitement gleamed in his predatory eyes. He relished worthy opponents, and this power—this presence—it was exhilarating.
But then—
The vortex parted.
A brown feline figure emerged from the swirling black abyss, its massive fangs gleaming under the moonlight.
A Smilodon—a saber-toothed beast draped in shadows and mist, its muscular frame rippling with tension. Its fur bristled against the biting wind, piercing yellow eyes locked onto the towering Minotaur with fierce defiance.
Silence fell.
Yaron's excitement twisted into a scowl.
"What's this?" The king's voice hardened, his gaze darkening with disappointment. "You dare to confront me with this… cat?"
The wind howled through the ruins, carrying the tension in the air. Even the specters in the distance seemed to pause, watching the unfolding confrontation.
Nebula, despite his injuries, smirked. His fingers brushed against the Smilodon's fur, feeling the deep vibrations of its growl.
"Sorry to disappoint you, old man," he said, his voice lined with mockery.
Then, he turned his head to the beast, his voice low but firm. "Do what you must."
The Smilodon responded in an instant—a flash of motion, a blur of fangs and claws cutting through the frozen battlefield.
It lunged.
A snarl ripped through the air as the Smilodon crashed into Yaron's monstrous Minotaur.
The Minotaur staggered, caught off guard by the sheer speed of its opponent. Despite the overwhelming power gap, the saber-tooth beast struck without hesitation, its claws slashing at the Minotaur's exposed flank.
The attack barely left a scratch.
But the Smilodon didn't need to overpower. It was faster.
Before the titan could counter, the feline twisted mid-air, landing on the Minotaur's massive back, its fangs snapping dangerously close to its jugular.
The Minotaur roared, thrashing violently, its muscular arms swiping at the nimble beast clinging to it. But the Smilodon was relentless, dodging with feline agility, its brown form darting around the lumbering colossus with impossible speed.
This wasn't a battle of brute strength.
This was a battle of precision.
Each time Nakamui swung its axe, the Smilodon was already gone—vanishing into the mist, only to reappear behind its target with another calculated strike.
Yaron's jaw clenched. He hadn't expected this.
His Minotaur was a walking juggernaut, an unstoppable force of destruction. But against an enemy it couldn't pin down, couldn't predict…
It was struggling.
Nebula wiped the blood from his lips, his smirk widening as he watched the battle unfold.
"Still think it's just a cat?" he taunted.
Yaron's rage burned hotter than the cold winds of the battlefield as he raised his massive battle axe, his veins pulsing with fury. The sheer pressure of his aura cracked the frozen ground beneath him. With a guttural roar, he charged like an unchained beast, his eyes blazing with murderous intent, determined to tear Nebula apart.
But the young gunslinger remained eerily calm.
His sharp eyes—trained for moments like this—analyzed every movement, every breath, every misstep. He didn't need brute strength to win this battle.
He needed precision.
The timing was perfect.
In one fluid motion, Nebula flicked back his coat, fingers wrapping around the cold steel of his revolver. He whipped it out with deadly accuracy, leveling it toward a looming, rusted water reservoir just a few feet beside the rampaging king.
And then—
Pow!
The gunshot echoed through the ruins, the bullet whistling through the air before colliding dead center with the rusted metal support of the reservoir.
A deep groan vibrated through the structure.
The rusted beams shuddered, buckled—then snapped.
The entire colossal tank lurched forward, tilting dangerously over the battlefield. Yaron's charge faltered. His bloodshot eyes widened as a massive shadow loomed over him.
Crash!
Tons of metal and water slammed down upon him, flattening him against the frozen ground. The impact sent tremors rippling through the ruined city. A deafening roar of gushing water erupted, spilling violently across the battlefield in a surging flood.
Trapped beneath the wreckage, Yaron bellowed in fury.
"Damn it… Damn you, kid! This won't be enough to contain me!"
Nebula remained still, unfazed. His breath was steady as he holstered his revolver, stepping closer to the wreckage. The moonlight glowed upon the battlefield, illuminating the carnage, the blood, the broken earth.
He exhaled, his voice calm but unwavering.
"I know."
Yaron's furious struggles echoed beneath the debris, but Nebula merely tilted his gun slightly, adjusting his aim.
"But it'll be enough to buy me and my companions some time out of this godforsaken city of yours."
Then—
Bang!
A second shot rang out. The bullet struck the weakened seams of the reservoir's tank, and with an earsplitting rupture, a violent torrent of water exploded outward, crashing down upon Yaron like an unrelenting tidal wave.
The battlefield turned into a raging flood, water swirling through the shattered streets like a vengeful storm.
Yaron struggled, gasping as the flood consumed him. His once-menacing figure was now flailing helplessly beneath the crushing force of the water.
But Nebula wasn't watching.
Because a new threat was closing in.
The moment Yaron's struggles began to weaken, his guardian beast reacted.
The Minotaur, realizing its master's dire state, let out a thunderous bellow. Its hulking frame trembled with desperation as it violently flung the Smilodon aside, sending the feline guardian skidding through the ice-laden rubble.
The beast then turned—charging toward Yaron with earth-shaking footsteps, determined to save him.
But then—
The mist thickened.
The Minotaur's monstrous form flickered.
Its pace slowed.
Then—it vanished completely, dissolving into the spectral mist.
Nebula's sharp eyes narrowed. "Hmph… So even a terrifying monster like you has limits."
Its sudden disappearance was a clear sign: its master's strength had fallen too low. Yaron's hold on his guardian was no longer strong enough to sustain its existence.
And just like that—
The fight ended.
For the first time since the chaos erupted, the city fell silent. The only sound was the distant echo of water draining into the ruins.
Nebula turned toward the Smilodon. The feline guardian limped closer, its yellow eyes locked onto him. The cold wind ruffled its bloodstained fur, its powerful frame trembling from exhaustion.
Yet, it stood tall.
It had fought with everything it had, even knowing it was outmatched. For him.
For the first time, Nebula gazed at it without resentment.
He took a deep breath, feeling a weight inside him finally lift. He had rejected this guardian, despised it for trying to replace what he had lost. But now…
Now, he understood.
This beast wasn't just some replacement. It was a continuation of Sara's will.
Nebula's fingers brushed against its fur, feeling the life beneath it. He exhaled slowly. "I forgive you for the past."
Battle-worn and breathing heavily, the
The Smilodon's ears twitched down, its head lowering in deep reverence.
"You have inherited the essence of Sara," Nebula continued, his expression unreadable. "And thus, you have earned your place in this realm—bound to my will."
A heavy silence followed.
Then—
A deep, resonant voice rumbled from the Smilodon's throat, rich with emotion.
"It is an honor to serve, my lord."
Nebula gave a small, almost imperceptible smirk before stepping back. His grey eyes burned with new resolve.
"From this moment forth," he declared, voice steady as the cold wind howled around him, "you shall be named… Oni."
The Smilodon—no, Oni—lifted its head with renewed pride.
The bond was sealed.
******