The battlefield was a war-torn ruin—crimson-stained earth, shattered weapons buried in the dirt, and the flickering embers of Naritsa's lingering flames illuminating the twilight.
The once-roaring clash of battle had dulled, reduced to nothing but the heavy breathing of the final contenders.
Laria lay unconscious beside her fallen bigfoot guardian, her body sprawled across broken debris. Jasmin, his quiver empty, his muscles screaming in exhaustion, had been forced out of the fight. For Daryl, he was nowhere to be found.
And now—it was just them.
Nebula. Naritsa. Margaret.
They were all that remained.
Naritsa, wreathed in sapphire fire, continued her tormenting assault on Margaret's guardian—the monstrous drake. Each strike sent rippling heat waves through the battlefield, melting debris into molten puddles. The colossal beast roared, its violet-scaled body twisting and flailing, trying to shake off the flames licking at its hide.
It snarled in defiance, its muscles tensing as it lunged at her. But Naritsa met its onslaught with relentless flame, determined to stall until Haila returned.
Meanwhile, Nebula and Margaret faced off.
A clash of wills. A battle of precision.
Nebula moved first, spinning his twin revolvers with practiced ease. The barrels gleamed in the dying light. He flicked his wrists—hurling bullet after bullet.
His shots were precise. Swift. Lethal.
The bullets sliced through the air like streaks of lightning, ricocheting off rocks, bouncing unpredictably, homing in on Margaret with deadly precision.
But she was already moving.
The lone huntress twisted, her body bending impossibly, evading the incoming projectiles with unnatural agility. She sidestepped, flipped, and even used the corpse of a fallen bounty hunter as a shield to block a near-fatal shot.
She was fast. Too fast.
Before Nebula could readjust, she closed the distance.
"Let's see how well you'd fare in close range, Gunslinger."
Her voice was a whisper of malice.
Her foot slammed into the dirt, the impact cracking the ground as she lunged forward.
Nebula barely had time to react. Margaret was already upon him—her fists moving like bladed winds.
A strike to his ribs. Another to his jaw. A knee aimed at his gut.
He dodged. Blocked. Countered.
His body moved on instinct, muscles honed by years of battle reacting before his mind could catch up. He twisted his torso, parried a hook aimed at his temple, then retaliated—a sharp elbow to her sternum.
Margaret grunted, staggering back a step, but her grin never faded.
She was enjoying this.
Nebula exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he steadied his stance. He smirked.
"Who told you gunslinging was my only strength?"
Then—he charged.
The fight erupted.
Fists flew. Kicks blurred. Every attack was met with equal force, every move countered with precise efficiency.
Nebula's knuckles slammed into her shoulder—Margaret absorbed the blow and responded with a blow aimed for his ribs.
But he sidestepped the punch, a revolver flipping in his grip as he swung the metal butts straight toward her face.
She ducked.
A counter-kick came for his jaw. He blocked it. She twisted mid-air, her other foot striking toward his ribs once more. He dodged… but she wasn't done.
She followed up with a vicious roundhouse kick. He barely ducked in time, retaliating with a sharp uppercut aimed at her chin.
She caught his wrist mid-strike.
Her fingers clamped around his forearm, vice-like, crushing.
Then—she twisted.
Nebula gritted his teeth as his arm was wrenched sideways, his body forced into an awkward pivot.
Margaret capitalized instantly. She drove a successful brutal knee into his ribs, sending him skidding backward across the dirt.
For the first time, Margaret laughed.
"Interesting!" she mused, stepping back. "You matched me step for step."
She wiped a thin streak of blood from her lip, her grin widening.
"But now…" Her voice dipped into something more menacing. "It's time for me to get serious."
Nebula remained steadily composed, his smirk confident and self-reassuring. "Do your worst," he taunted her. "You'd be defeated nonetheless."
Triggered by the taunt, Margaret's eyes gleamed with something wicked.
Then—the air shifted.
She closed her eyes, exhaling deeply.
Her body pulsed.
A tremor rippled through the air.
Her muscles bulged unnaturally, veins glowing with a purple energy as she invoked her guardian's power. Her flesh hardened like steel, her arms crackling with raw force.
Nebula's grip on his revolvers tightened.
Then she lunged.
This time, her movements were different—blindingly fast, earth-shattering strong.
Her enhanced body cut through the air like a missile, aiming to crush Nebula beneath her overwhelming strength.
But before her blow could land—
A thunderous roar erupted as a massive shadow leaped into the fray.
It was Oni.
The enormous smilodon collided with Margaret, tearing into her left arm with its fangs. It's powerful claws raked against her body, tearing through fabric, scraping against hardened skin.
Margaret barely flinched.
She snapped her arm sideways, catching Oni's throat in a vice grip.
The beast thrashed, growled, its saber-fangs bared in defiance. But Margaret's enhanced strength was monstrous. She lifted the feline as if it weighed nothing, her fingers pressing down, threatening to crush the creature's windpipe.
Then—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted from the side, bullets ripping through the space between them and slamming against Margaret's face with unrelenting force.
The lone huntress snarled, eyes flashing with fury.
"Damn you, Gunslinger!"
She cursed, shielding her eyes with crossed arms as more blinding bullets hammered against her unyielding body. The force alone was staggering, pushing her backward with each shot.
The impact was deafening.
Instinctively, Margaret tossed Oni aside, who tumbled mid-air before landing on its paws, growling fiercely.
Nebula stood a few paces away, smoke curling from his twin revolvers. His stance was steady, his sharp gaze locked onto his opponent.
Then, he exhaled sharply.
"Nothing personal," he quipped, spinning a fresh round into the chamber. "But I won't stand by and watch you kill me through my guardian."
Margaret wiped away the streak of blood that had dripped from a fresh wound on her cheek. Her expression twisted into a cruel grin.
"You all are my prey. You should be honored to die at my hands," she growled.
"I can't be stopped by the likes of you."
"You're right," Nebula admitted. "I can't stop you."
Margaret narrowed her eyes. "What?"
The gunslinger lifted a hand, casually pointing his thumb over his shoulder.
"But she can."
A piercing screech suddenly split through the battlefield, a sound that sent a shiver down Margaret's spine.
Her eyes darted upward—and her blood ran cold.
From the smoky horizon, an enormous shadow descended with wrathful grace.
Haila.
The sky burned blue as the majestic phoenix swooped down, its massive wings igniting the twilight in an ethereal blaze. The flames trailing in its wake sizzled through the air, warping the very atmosphere with sheer heat.
Nebula darted back in an instant, giving Haila the space it needed.
Margaret's pupils contracted.
She was strong. But even she knew—she couldn't withstand this.
Her survival instincts screamed.
"Sly!"
Her desperate cry shattered through the chaos.
The drake responded instantly.
Even under Naritsa's relentless flame, Sly tore itself away from its fight and rushed toward its mistress, moving with frantic urgency.
But Haila was already there.
With a single, powerful flap of its massive wings, the phoenix unleashed a storm of hellish blue fire.
Fiery feathers rained down like divine punishment.
Margaret, her breath ragged with panic, barely managed to throw herself toward her guardian. The drake, ever-loyal, coiled around her protectively, its massive body forming an impenetrable shield.
Then—
The flames struck.
On impact, an explosion of blue fire consumed everything in its wake. Heat waves rippled outward, melting the battlefield itself, turning rock to lava, air to smoke. The flames wrapped around Sly and Margaret, swallowing them whole.
The drake's roar of agony pierced the night.
Naritsa stepped forward, the wind whipping her cape like a war banner.
Haila, her fiery guardian, stood tall behind her, its wings still smoldering with flames yet to fade.
Nebula and Oni joined them, watching in silence as the fire raged, consuming their last-standing enemy.
Naritsa exhaled sharply, her tense shoulders finally easing.
"It's over."
Behind her, Haila let out a victorious screech, its wings spreading wide in triumph. The battlefield seemed to hold its breath—silent, still.
But Oni prowled close to Nebula, its feline body coiled with anticipation, its primal instincts sensing what its master already knew.
Nebula didn't lower his guns.
"No, it's not." His voice was flat, void of relief. He spun the cylinders of his revolvers, reloading them with practiced precision. His grey eyes were locked onto the still-burning wreckage. Something was wrong.
Oni bristled beside him, its fangs bared in a low, warning growl.
Then—
A shadow moved within the flames.
A presence stirred, slow and deliberate.
And then, she emerged.
Margaret.
But she was no longer the woman they had fought moments ago.
Her form unfurled from the dying embers, her silhouette shifting from human into something far more monstrous. Twisted. Altered. Awakened. When she finally stepped into full view, her transformation became undeniable.
Her once-pale skin now gleamed an unnatural shade of violet, hardened like tempered obsidian. Her emerald eyes burned with eerie brilliance, cold and inhuman. Her fingers, once delicate and lethal, had become claws. Even her height had changed—she now towered over both Nebula and Naritsa, an embodiment of pure intimidation.
She was no longer just a host.
She was something beyond.
Nebula exhaled sharply, taking a calculated step back as he tilted his head to Naritsa.
"Okay…" he muttered, leveling his revolvers at the transformed figure. "I knew something was off about her, but… what the hell am I looking at?"
Naritsa's voice was hushed, her gaze solemn. "... A Guardian Merger."
Nebula blinked, glancing at her. "A what?"
Naritsa's lips barely parted as she explained, her voice as steady as steel. "...They're power-lustful hosts who fuse with their guardians to become stronger—twice stronger than any regular host could ever hope to be."
A slow, taunting clap echoed through the still air.
Margaret smiled—not in amusement, but in twisted admiration. Her voice was deeper now, richer with an eerie resonance.
"You both are remarkable," she mused, the ground subtly cracking beneath her as she took a step forward, her new weight pressing into the earth.
Nebula and Naritsa instinctively shifted their stances, their bodies tensing in preparation.
Margaret stopped, looming over them like an apex predator toying with its prey.
"You actually managed to force me into this state."
She lifted her hands, flexing her clawed fingers like a queen testing her new power. The air around her vibrated with unnatural energy, warping under the sheer weight of her presence.
"For your efforts, I'll grant you a courtesy before I end your lives."
Nebula and Naritsa said nothing, their eyes locked onto the towering figure before them.
Margaret's grin widened as she extended her arms outward, showcasing the monstrous glory of her new form.
"Imagine hosting a ranked guardian," she purred. "Then imagine an even greater privilege—one that allows you to become twice as powerful as any other host of the same beast hierarchy."
Her glowing emerald eyes flickered toward Nebula, her interest piqued.
"That's what a Guardian Merger is."
Then she leaned in, her towering form casting a suffocating shadow over him.
"But unlike Guardian Vessels…" she said, her voice a whisper dripping with temptation.
"...Even you can become a Merger, Gunslinger."
Nebula felt the weight of her words.
The promise of power.
The inevitable cost.
His expression darkened as he stared her down, his fingers twitching near the triggers of his revolvers. His voice was quieter this time, almost introspective.
"At what price?"
Margaret faltered. Just for a second.
A ghost of something almost human flickered across her monstrous features—something resembling doubt. But she crushed it just as quickly, rolling her shoulders as she cast aside the brief moment of hesitation.
"Your humanity…"
Her voice was low, deliberate. There was no sorrow in her tone—only acceptance. Then, with an almost careless shrug, she added, "And a few decades of lifespan, perhaps."
But Naritsa merely chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. It was bitter, almost pitying. Her sapphire flames crackled at her fingertips, licking hungrily at the air.
"It's a pity." Her glowing cyan eyes locked onto Margaret's twisted form, the heat of her presence warping the very air. "You perverted the nature of your power for a taste of strength. Even if you merged with a legend-level beast, you'll never rival the power of a Guardian Vessel."
The moment she finished, the air shook.
From the embers of her summoning, two more guardians materialized.
Standing alongside Haila, the phoenix, were Lila, the myth-level unicorn bathed in silver light, and Kron, a rare-level terror bird, its scarlet feathers bristling as it let out a low, guttural hiss. The very presence of the trio was overwhelming—otherworldly.
Margaret's features contorted into something menacing. Insulted. Infuriated. Unstable.
"You know nothing about me!" Her voice cracked with rage, her sharpened teeth grinding together as the sheer pressure of her presence fractured the ground beneath her. "You know NOTHING about the helplessness that comes with being weak!—"
She snarled—and then she moved.
A thunderous charge.
The earth beneath her exploded, fissures splitting apart as her monstrous form launched forward, ripping toward Nebula and Naritsa like a tidal wave of raw destruction. Each step left craters in her wake, emphasizing her overwhelming strength.
Naritsa reacted instantly.
With a swift movement, she mounted Lila, her eyes blazing like a flame goddess as her unicorn steed galloped forward, hooves pounding the ground in streaks of dust and debris. Haila and Kron flanked her, their combined charge creating a tempest of heat and fury.
But Nebula?
He hesitated. Just for a second.
Margaret's words echoed in his mind. He knew the feeling of helplessness. The quiet agony of knowing you weren't strong enough. The way it carved into a man's soul, making him question everything.
But…
That wasn't an excuse.
It was never an excuse for selling one's soul.
He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he twirled his revolvers once before locking them back into position.
And then—he smirked.
"Thanks for the sales pitch," he quipped. "But I prefer my own way of doing things."
Margaret's fury only intensified. She roared, her claws slicing through the air as she prepared to rip through her opponents.
Her monstrous form loomed larger with every step, her emerald eyes locked onto her prey.
But Nebula wasn't running.
Standing his ground, his grey longcoat billowing in the heated winds, he leveled his guns at the incoming storm.
"Let's do this, Oni."
The smilodon let out a feral snarl, its powerful muscles coiling like a loaded spring, ready to pounce into the chaos.
Then—
Impact.
***