The air was thick, almost suffocating. Tame coughed violently, the chill of the cobblestone biting into her skin as she groaned and pushed herself upright, one hand gripping her throbbing head.
"What… in the world was that?" she said, another cough escaping her lips.
Her vision swam, shapes blurring together as she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.
A cell, yet not like any she had ever seen. She wasn't just imprisoned but displayed.
From her vantage point, she could see the vast expanse of what looked like a throne room below. Above her, a massive chandelier loomed, catching the faint beams of moonlight that seeped through the cracks in the high, crumbling ceiling.
Tame coughed again, her body shuddering.
This castle… it hadn't always been here. No one knew its true origins, only that it had appeared a few years ago, casting a dark shadow over the land. Before then, everything had been normal or so she heard. Now, monsters roamed its halls, filling every corridor with their presence. And then...there was her.
That girl.
Tame's hands trembled as she stared down at them.
"In that moment… it felt like my very life force shattered. My energy drained before I could even react." She clenched her fingers into tight fists. "Yet… she had the chance to kill me. So why keep me alive?"
A sigh escaped her lips as she let herself fall back against the cold stone floor, her body sinking into its unyielding embrace with a resigned smile.
"So this is how it ends… trapped and tormented by some kind of high-grade monster," she said, her voice growing softer. "As long as the others made it out alive, I can rest easy."
Her eyelids fluttered closed.
"Now… if only I had a drink."
#
Emilia's head popped out of the little wagon window, her eyes shimmering like diamonds at the breathtaking sight before them. A towering ice castle, something straight out of a fantasy novel, loomed in the distance.
Sleek slides curled from each of its grand corners and the vast courtyard was adorned with intricate ice sculptures—majestic beasts, monstrous creatures, and, most importantly…
ELVEN MEN!
Her breath hitched. A dreamy sigh escaped her lips as she clutched her chest, inhaling the crisp, misty air. It took every ounce of restraint not to fling herself out of the wagon, grab one of them, and make do before her true prince arrived. That's if he exists that is.
The others, however, saw no beauty within this domain.
A heavy, oppressive aura clung to the air, thick with hate and despair. Even the sturdy, fur-coated horses staggered as they approached the castle.
Mr. Swordsman stood by the opposite window, lost in thought. A presence this vile should have made itself known long before now, yet it had only flared to life as they crossed the gates of the courtyard.
Oscar trembled, clutching his parchment with whitening knuckles.
Mr. Swordsman turned, his sharp gaze piercing through the old man's shaking frame.
"It's strange," he said, voice low and cutting. "You claimed no adventurer took up your so-called commission but that doesn't seem to be the case."
He looked down at the old man. "The only reason I'm indulging in this game of yours is because, for some reason, this situation piques my curiosity," he said, his grip tightened on the hilt of his blade. "If this is a trap, you won't be leaving here with your head."
A bead of sweat ran down Oscar's temple. "I-I just want to save my children. That's all."
Mr. Swordsman studied him for a moment longer before turning away.
"Whatever you say."
The carriage slowed.
"Hey!" Bhaa called from the front. "This is as far as I go. You lot are on your own from here. I'll wait with the other adventurers until you all return"
Mr. Swordsman nodded. "Understood. Let's go."
Just as they prepared to step out, the air shifted and the temperature dropped.
A voice, cold, and ghostly whispered in Mr. Swordsman's ear.
"You finally came."
His sword flashed in an instant, slicing through the empty air behind him.
Then, the ground trembled.
The courtyard tiles rose, lifting the entire wagon. The castle walls groaned, shifting and morphing into new shapes.
Pasta braced himself, seconds away from hurling out the window.
Emilia, however, was still mesmerised, while Bhaa and Oscar clutched onto whatever they could, whispering frantic prayers for their lives.
But Mr. Swordsman sweated, holding the corners of his neck.
For just a moment, his entire body had felt frozen. But it felt more than that like he was dead for a moment.
The castle swallowed them whole, pulling them into a vast chamber.
The ceiling loomed high, draped with heavy cobwebs. A dim, eerie light seeped through fogged-up windows, casting a pale-blue hue upon a nightmarish sight—hundreds of frozen sculptures lined the room.
Men, women, adventurers… their bodies in ice, eyes were hollow, yet their lifeless gazes seemed to follow every movement.
Some gazes burned with hatred. Others… with terror.
Mr. Swordsman and the others stepped out as Bhaa groaned.
"Of course," he said, waving his arms. "Of course, we just had to get dragged into the monster castle."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "Oh, Mother of Mikah"
The smile that once graced Emilia's lips faded, replaced by pale dread.
Though the sculptures did not move, their presence felt alive like they were real people.
"This was your doing."
The voice whispered again.
Pasta immediately stepped to Mr. Swordsman's side, his hand steady on his sword.
"You caused this. You brought this pain."
Shadows along the walls stirred, contorting into grotesque shapes of monstrous figures with golden gleaming eyes.
"Now, you die."
Pasta smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Creepy. The whole 'voice but no body' thing, right, Mr Swordsman?"
But the swordsman remained still.
"Whoever is responsible must be a gifted," he whispered. "With some sort of ability to manipulate objects"
He turned to Pasta, his expression grim. "Be careful. This is no ordinary foe."
Pasta grinned, raising his sword. "Yeah, yeah… Let's just beat up some monsters already."
#
Emilia tossed all her blankets aside, leaving herself clad only in the coat she'd picked up back in Gildenspire.
Her gaze swept over the eerie ice sculptures, something about them gnawing at her mind. She wasn't particularly skilled at sensing lifeforce, so she couldn't be certain… but something felt off.
"Hey, Oscar."
The old man flinched at the sound of her voice, his trembling form barely holding itself together.
"W-What now?"
"Can you check something for me?" Emilia asked, eyes fixed on the statues. "Do they have a lifeforce?"
Oscar gave her a sceptical look. "Huh? What kind of question is that? Can't you feel it? Of course, they don't."
He tightened his grip on his cane. "That's what makes it so unnatural. Their heads turn, but there ain't a speck of life in 'em. I may not be an expert in lifeforce, but those things… they defy nature itself."
Bhaa edged closer to Emilia, glancing nervously at the shifting shadows.
"This is about to get really bad," he said, voice trembling. "Look at all those monsters… I should've never volunteered for this. Now I'm gonna die."
Emilia stepped in front of them, blade in hand. The monsters didn't bother her. What unsettled her were the statues. She had initially assumed they were the unfortunate adventurers who had met their end here, but now she wasn't so sure.
Not a single one bore signs of struggle. No wounds. No cracks in the ice. And any competent adventurer should've been able to break free from mere ice.
She gripped her weapon tighter.
"Still," she murmured, glancing back at the men. "That's not our biggest problem right now."
A small, confident smile played on her lips.
"Let's trust them to handle the monsters."
Her eyes gleamed as she faced her companions.
"They're not weak."
Pasta let out a slow breath, stealing a glance at Mr. Swordsman. As always, the man was unshaken, even as hundreds of monsters surged forward.
I need to be like him. Calm. Collected. No mistakes this time.
His grip tightened around the hilt of his blade.
Let's go!
The two swordsmen wove through the battlefield as they also avoided the sculptures, their blades cutting through the horde with speed and precision.
Pasta's movements were like a whirlwind. He commanded the air itself, an explosion of energy propelling him forward as his sword danced through flesh and bone. He didn't need to finish the job since his poison would do the rest.
Mr. Swordsman, however, moved like flowing water, effortless and sharp. He severed limbs with chilling precision and ease—tentacles, claws, wings, all rendered useless in mere moments. He had no need for brute force since his attacks were measured and his command of the air, was just enough to propel him midair as he carved through flying beasts.
Bhaa watched, awestruck.
This is the strength of an S-rank.
The girl was right after all. These two were not to be taken lightly.
A pack of towering monsters closed in around Mr. Swordsman, but he remained still, his blue eyes gleaming. The world around him flickered into muted greys as he knelt, voice barely above a whisper.
"Silver Tempest."
With a single click of his blade, the air howled. A flurry of slashes erupted in every direction, tearing through the battlefield in a devastating circular whirlwind. The ground trembled as a shockwave followed, sending the monsters' shredded remains cascading to the floor.
Pasta's eyes widened. "Was that… a named move?"
A monstrous beast lunged at him, its grotesque, curved blade of an arm slicing toward his head.
Pasta smirked.
More were coming. Good.
With a sharp stomp, the ground beneath him cracked.
Wind erupted in a violent gust, launching the horde into the air alongside him. As if caught in a storm's current, they were forced into a perfect line in midair.
Pasta blasted downward, his blade a streak of silver as he tore through every single one in an instant.
He landed, his feet unsteady, breath heavy but he held no smile of victory.
"Damn," he said under his breath, frustration laced in his voice. "Another mistake… It's still nothing like last time. Damn it!"
Another monster lunged. He growled, raising his sword to block as the battle went on.
A cold breeze swept through the chamber, sending a chilling quiet whisper through the silence. The battle came to an abrupt halt. Every monster froze in place, their twisted bodies eerily still.
The adventurers followed their gaze upward to a lone figure standing above them.
A girl.
Her skin was pale as untouched snow, her cascading locks flowing like silver silk. Dark crystalline eyes gleamed like fractured diamonds beneath the soft glow of azure light. A delicate, flowery dress adorned her small frame, swaying as if untouched by the cold.
"You."
Her voice dripped with venom, though her innocent face did well to hide it. "You finally came… Weeping Swordsman."
Mr. Swordsman lifted his head, his gaze locking onto hers. "Are you responsible for these creatures?" he asked, his tone firm. His fingers curled tighter around his sword as he sensed the ominous aura radiating from her. Even with the looks of a child, he could tell. This girl was dangerous.
"Where are the children you took?" he asked.
The girl raised a thin brow.
"Children?" she whispered, her voice growing colder. "Don't tell me… you came for them as well."
The sculptures shuddered. Their heads twisted, and their frozen faces turned toward the swordsman in unison.
Beneath the shadow of his hat, Mr. Swordsman's expression darkened.
"I am not here to play games," he said. "Release the children. And the adventurer if she's still alive that is." His stance remained steady. "Then we'll leave in peace."
The girl's expression hardened.
Her small hands lifted, fingers weaving through the air. Shadows stretched and churned at her command, birthing more monsters from the darkness.
Mr. Swordsman took a single step forward.
"Pasta. Stay back," he whispered, his voice barely carrying over the silent tension. "I'll deal with her. Afterwards, we'll find the children and the adventurer."
Pasta swallowed hard, stepping away. "W-Whatever you say…"
With a burst of energy, Mr. Swordsman lunged skyward.
Chunks of the castle walls tore free, hurtling toward him in a deadly barrage. Yet, each block met his blade and split cleanly in half.
In the blink of an eye, he was upon her, his blade piercing straight through her chest.
His breath caught.
Something was wrong, his blade went through her yet there was no wound, no blood spilt.
A cold force constricted around him, taking away his command of the air, yet left him levitating helplessly.
She floated closer, her dark eyes shimmering like the abyss itself. Her silver locks unfurled around them, drifting like living waters.
Then—
Mr. Swordsman's eyes went blank.
His lifeforce shattered in an instant.
His body dropped, plummeting toward the floor. Yet, even as he fell, his grip never loosened around his sword.
Emilia and Pasta stood frozen in horror.
Mr. Swordsman was defeated.
The girl turned to them, her delicate features betraying no emotion.
"You should leave if you value your lives," she whispered.
She glanced down at the fallen swordsman, her dark eyes narrowing.
"For all the sins he has committed. I will make his death slow and painful."
The ground beneath him cracked.
A gaping hole formed without warning, swallowing his unconscious body whole.
"No!"
Pasta's fury ignited. His blood roared in his ears as he launched himself forward, blade swinging with all his might.
Yet, his sword met nothing.
The girl's form flickered, vanishing like mist before his eyes.
"You have three hours to leave."
Her voice whispered through the air before she disappeared into the light.
#
Somewhere within the Eighth Realm…
The storm raged on, furious winds howling through the night. Amidst the tempest, a lone figure sat atop a pile of fallen crates, his crimson eyes flickering in the rhythmic glow of the lighthouse beam as his wide-brimmed hat shielded his face from the rain.
Scattered before him lay the broken bodies of men, mercenaries armed with guns and blades, now nothing more than lifeless husks drowned in the downpour.
Hades exhaled, his breath lost to the storm as his gaze drifted forward.
There, standing tall was a man cloaked in darkness. His suit did little to conceal the muscles he had under and the air of power he carried with him. His coating was invisible, yet it brimmed with unimaginable strength, something Hades had never seen before.
This was him.
The leader of the Undertakers.
The rain pounded against the dock, the distant wails of passing ships blending with the storm's relentless roar. Yet neither man moved. Neither spoke.
Until, at last, the silence shattered.
A low growl rumbled from the suited man's throat, his fists clenching at his sides. Drops of crimson trickled from his knuckles, merging with the growing puddles at his feet as he glared at the swordsman.
"Murderer."
He turned his back to Hades as his footsteps grew fainter.