Sadi gazed out over Stormrock, the Skysworn's floating city, perched atop a dense, swirling green cloudbank. From her vantage point, the city looked alive with motion and energy. Below, the streets were bustling with activity: traders carried goods, Skysworn sparred in training yards, and ordinary citizens hurried about their lives. Some soared through the air on shimmering Thousand-Mile Clouds, streaks of light trailing behind them. In contrast, others displayed goldsigns—arms of gleaming metal, crystalline limbs, or other fantastical features that marked their advancement.

  Her eyes lingered on a group of children playing in a cobbled square, their laughter visible even from this height. They kicked a ball construct that sparked and pulsed with light whenever it was struck, the glowing trails forming patterns in the air like fireflies in the evening. The simple joy of their game stood in stark contrast to the imposing black walls encircling the city. Those broad and seamless walls bristled with defenders—rows of Skysworn clad in armour, vigilant atop their posts. At regular intervals, towering guard towers loomed, their sharp spires piercing the sky, their tops outfitted with glowing formations that pulsed with restrained madra. Stormrock was not just a city; it was a fortress.

  She had first noticed it when they began their journey away from Ghostwater—the vital aura was faint, far weaker than she had expected. As they approached Stormrock, that sensation only intensified. It was disorienting; she had assumed that anywhere outside the confines of Sacred Valley would be vibrant with vital aura. But now, she was struck by just how abundant it had been in the Wastelands. Perhaps that abundance explained the density of Heralds there.

  In contrast, the Blackflame Empire felt almost diminished. Their Emperor, as powerful as he was, stood only at the level of an Overlord. Sadi understood that an Overlord was no trivial force, but after meeting Sages and Heralds, the Emperor's power seemed... underwhelming. It was a humbling reminder of the vast disparity between strength in different regions of the world.

  The Beast King had not sent any additional orders besides the one Ziel had given them. She reckoned her master had known of the lack of vital aura, which was why he had prepared the vials for them to reach Truegold. Even then, she hoped she would not have to stay here for long. Her fondness for the Wastelands grew the longer she was away.

  Ever since she had managed to create dust, her smile had been plastered on her face. She had hoped to create something more initially, but her expectations had lowered massively when she began experimenting with her technique.

  She watched as the Cloudfortress flew past the guards without slowing down while other transport, such as flying chariots, was stopped by flying Skysworns. The Cloudfortress headed towards the tallest tower in the flying city, and she reckoned it was the Skysworn's headquarters, Starsweep Tower. The door to their room opened, and a Skysworn Truegold with long hair and a sword by her hip gestured them to follow.

  Whitehall was wiping his face with a spare towel while Meatball was licking her feathers. They both stood up, grumbling under their breaths. They weren't exactly clean, but at least they were cleaner.

  As they headed to the exit, they were escorted by two Skysworns. Curious enough, they saw Lindon, Yerin, Mercy, and Orthos waiting for them by the exit, flanked on all sides by a dozen Skysworns. The Skysworns were tense, and Sadi saw their hands were itching to reach for their weapons.

  Yerin's voice broke through the tension. "What happened to you two?" she pointed to Whitehall and Meatball, specifically at their dishevelled selves. "Did they put you in an oven?"

  Whitehall and Meatball glared at Sadi, who shrugged with a smile.

  "Quiet!" one of the Truegolds barked.

  Yerin stared daggers at the woman, who seemed to shrink beneath her gaze. It appeared the Skysworns were afraid of them.

  When the Hatch began to open, heavy footsteps echoed behind them. Naru Gwei led the way out of the Cloudfortress, and their escorts followed behind.

  Sadi had to double-check that she was not using her Blindingwrath, as she felt as if she were invisible. The Skysworns' eyes and perception were fixated on Lindon and Yerin, and they glared at the two.

  They followed Naru Gwei into his office, where their escorts departed, and she saw another Skysworn Truegold waiting for them when they entered. Yerin poised her sword arms while Mercy seemed to tense slightly. Lindon looked like he was itching for a fight, but he always looked that way. Whoever the Truegold was, they had bad blood with him.

  Before it could escalate further, Whitehall asked, "Umm, who are you?" he pointed to his side. Beside him was a tall, lean man with long, flowing blonde hair. He wore the standard green SKysworn armor and his smile was wide and genuine as he held a vacuum construct against Whitehall's dusty clothes.

  Where did he come from, Sadi thought. She had not even felt him, and by the surprised looks of everyone in the room, she reckoned neither did they.

  "Eithan Aurelius, number one janitor of the Blackflame Empire, at your service," the man bowed like a musician at the end of their concert.

  Meatball fired harmless feathers above Eithan that drifted gently around him like black confetti. "You sure are," the bird chirped, extending her wings so everyone could see. "Look how clean I am."

  "Eithan!" Lindon called out in recognition.

  Naru Gwei looked like he wanted to be anywhere but around that man.

  Lindon continued, oblivious to Naru Gwei's annoyed expression. "We sent a message to the Aurelius."

  "I am aware," Eithan smiled. "Fortunately, the family's elders had seen me fit to serve a greater purpose than Patriarch." His smile did not fit what he was saying.

  "And what would be greater than being a Patriarch?" Yerin scoffed.

  Eithan's smile grew wider than Sadi had thought possible. "To train a new generation of Underlords to represent the Empire in the Uncrowned tournament, of course." His gaze drifted slowly to Sadi and Whitehall. "And the Wastelands," he added.

  "We have no evidence of that," Naru Gwei said, annoyedly closing his eyes.

  "Don't we, Gwei?" Eithan addressed the Skysworn Leader. He looked to the unknown Truegold, who was having a face-off with Yerin. "Tell me, Bai Rou, did the Akura say anything to you?"

  Bai Rou's face seemed to pale slightly, and he shook his head. "I swore an oath to reveal nothing until the proper time."

  "Mercy, then," Eithan said, turning his attention to the young Akura. Young Miss Akura, you have heard what I suggested. Could you share with us any signs of your clan putting unusual emphasis on raising up young elites?"

  Yerin replied first, showing surprise on her face. "The Sage of Silver Heart said something about a competition and why all the Truegolds were there."

  "I think so," Mercy replied. "It would make sense if they sent Harmony and Aunt Charity to Ghostwater."

  Sadi's mind buzzed in thought. The Beast King would know about this Uncrowned tournament if there was one. And if what Yerin said was true, then did the Beast King expect her, Whitehall, and Meatball to represent the Wastelands?

  Eithan moved to rest his elbow on Naru Gwei's shoulder. The Skysworn Leader tried to avoid it, but it landed anyway. "See Gwei. What did I tell you."

  "Harmony, huh? So that was his name," Whitehall's voice cut through the air. "The one that killed the other Skysworn."

  "Renfei," Bai Rou gave a name to the dead Skysworn. "The Akura Clan had taken responsibility for her death.

  "And how will they take it?" Whitehall asked. "Will Harmony go to prison for it?"

  From the corner of her eyes, Sadi saw Mercy squirming from Whitehall's questions.

  Eithan spoke first, walking to Whitehall with a surprising speed and grace, placing two hands on his shoulder and smiling. "My, my, you indeed have the drive of the Wastelands. But to answer your question: who are we to question the actions of a Monarch's family? Especially when we are their vassal?" Eithan's blue eyes sparkled, waiting for a challenge from Whitehall.

  "So that's it, then?" Whitehall's black eyes met Eithan's blue. "They are free to kill whoever they want to, without repercussions."

  Based on the uneasy look of everyone in the room, Sadi knew Whitehall's questioning was heading towards dangerous territory. Naru Gwei's face was blank, Bai Rou looked away, Yerin raised an eyebrow, Lindon looked uneasy, Orthos pulled his head into his shell, and Mercy's face was white as linen.

  Eithan, however, did not seem to mind. "Your master would be proud of you, based on what I have heard of the Beast King."

  Sadi felt the room go quiet as Eithan revealed who she and Whitehall's master were. He winked at Sadi, reminding her that he had not missed her.

  Naru Gwei sighed as he looked at the people gathered in his office: An Akura, a disciple of a Sword Sage, two Blackflames, the most annoying man he had ever met, and the newest addition of disciples of a Herald whose lands shared borders with the Blackflame Empire. He was very tempted to retire on the spot.

  Eithan must have detected Naru Gwei's thoughts as he whirled to face the Underlord. He drew a cross on his heart as he spoke, "I, Eithan Aurelius, hereby swear on my soul that I will take these young sacred artists and sacred beasts," he made sure not to leave out Orthos and Meatball "into my Skysworn squad. I will do everything in my power to lead them to their own benefit and the benefit of the Blackflame Empire."

  Naru Gwei did not seem amused by Eithan's soul oath. "That was not a request-"

  Eithan interrupted him before the Skysworn Leader could finish. "In addition, I will follow your orders during my duties and not personally spend more time in your presence than required."

  "DEAL!" Naru Gwei yelled immediately without hesitation, his voice bellowing through the tower.

  Eithan clapped his hands together. "Brilliant." He began walking out of the office, gesturing for everyone to follow him. "Come along, children!" He looked at Orthos. "And ancient Sacred Beasts," leaving a relieved Naru Gwei and a scowling Bai Rou behind.

  Eithan sent his adopted family and Mercy to retire for the day while he got to know the newest members from the Wastelands in his office. Per Huan's orders, he had a sense of how he could help them, but in the end, he did not know them. He hoped they would not fail his training, and his first impression of the two sacred artists was that they would not.

  Eithan addressed the woman first. She had not spoken a word inside Gwei's office, choosing to observe instead. "So," he began. "It is nice to finally meet you, miss?"

  "Sadi," the woman answered. "I've heard about you from Lindon and Yerin."

  "Good things, I'm sure," Eithan replied. "So let me start by explaining why you are here. You see, your master made a deal with the Akura Clan to bring you up into Underlords to represent the Wastelands in the upcoming tournament. The Akura clan had seen the Blackflame Empire fit to assist you in this endeavour." He straightened his back, placed his hands on his hips, and used wind aura to flutter his hair. "And the Emperor had seen me as the best choice to lead you there."

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "The Akura told you that?" Sadi asked hesitantly. "About the tournament, I mean," she added.

  "Nope," Eithan replied and smiled at her. "But it was easy to deduce once you know what I know."

  She gave the Underlord a thumbs up and a hesitant smile of her own, "Brilliant," her words coming out more of a question than a compliment.

  "We have no time for a tournament," Whitehall said. "We need to advance as quickly as possible. Our home is under threat."

  "I know of your goals, little one," Eithan addressed Whitehall. "Lindon has told me of the situation of Sacred Valley and the Dreadgods. And I swear on my soul that if you make it far in this tournament, it will be your greatest boon for your advancement."

  "Lindon have told you about his heavenly visions?" Sadi asked.

  "I am glad enough to have earned his trust to reveal such a secret. And to answer your questions. Yes, yes, he had." He looked down at Whitehall, who was visibly unhappy to be in this predicament. "When the time comes," he began, "I would provide assistance to evacuate your home. What kind of master would I be if I let my favourite disciple's home get trampled by the Dreadgods."

  Eithan observed as Whitehall gritted his teeth. "Because killing the Dreadgods is near impossible, isn't it?"

  He knew Eithan realised quickly, hiding his surprise behind his smile. This would be interesting. "Now," he began, "the hour is getting late, and I would like to learn about both of your paths and where you would like to take them." He addressed Sadi first. "Sadi, I can sense you are on a light path with a powerful remnant inside you."

  The remnant inside her was at least an Archlord, according to his Underlord perception, and he couldn't help but smile at the thought of having the chance to educate the Beast King's prized disciples. "Your core is almost Peak Highgold, and I can't help but ask why have you not broken your remnant and advance?"

  The young woman hesitated, and Eithan inwardly hoped she had not grown attached to the remnant like Yerin did.

  "I...," Sadi began. "I wanted to. The remnant inside me told me the same, too."

  A flicker of curiosity flashed in Eithan's mind. That was rare, a remnant that encourages the sacred artist to break them open for power. Whoever the remnant belonged to, they clearly prioritised the sacred artist over themselves.

  Sadi continued. "I wanted to wait until I was able to perform my technique. Now that I have done so," she hesitated again. "I don't know how to break it open," she admitted, "The remnant cracked open on its own the last time and advanced me to Highgold."

  Curious. Very curious. For a remnant to have enough will to forcefully advance their sacred artist was almost unheard of. Eithan could not help but laugh. Out of all the reasons the young woman had not advanced, it was because she did not know how to crack open her remnant. He waited for his laughter to stop before speaking. "Your remnant is a powerful one; I could tell just by seeing how much power is left after pushing your advancement to Highgold. Do not worry. We shall advance you to Truegold very soon after a bit of preparation."

  Then he turned his gaze to Whitehall, more specifically, the sacred beast bird on his shoulder. "May I ask, magnificent bird, what species do you hail from?"

  The bird straightened her back with a smug expression. "I am the one and only Meatball. A Garuda of the Wastelands."

  "A Garuda," Eithan awed. "I have never seen one in person. I thought your kind were the stuff of legends."

  "You've heard of my kind?" the bird cocked her head at him.

  Yes, Eithan thought. Only through ancient texts I had read when I was known in this iteration as Ozriel. And according to the text, only one Herald Garuda had ever been sighted. And it died fighting the Monarchs. But according to the text, they did not possess venom madra.

  "Of course," Eithan said proudly to the bird. "I saw your kind in an ancient text in my family's archives when I was much younger."

  The bird eyed him sceptically and asked, "And where are your family's archives?"

  "Burned to ashes," he replied. He clapped his hands together before continuing. "Anyways, may I ask why you have not shared your power and advance Whitehall to Truegold?"

  Whitehall glared sidewards at his contracted partner. "You could've advanced me to Truegold all this time?"

  Meatball laughed and chirped, "Of course. You just never asked." She turned to face the Underlord. "But if I advance him now, it will only bottleneck his advancement. My body has been tempered by venom and life since I was a hatchling; Whitehall, however, has not."

  "Path of the Atterist," Eithan exclaimed in instant recognition, excited about seeing a rare path from the snails of the Wastelands.

  "Yes, close enough," the bird chirped.

  Eithan raised a hand to stop the bird. "One moment, Meatball. I am afraid this conversation will take more time than I had expected, and I would like to give Sadi here a more beneficial task." He inserted his hand into his pocket, activated his void key, and pulled out a Skysworn token. He tossed it to her. "Take this token to the armoury on the eighteenth floor and ask for a sunlamp. Your madra channels are strained, and you'll hardly get any sunlight inside this building. The lamp should provide you with a sufficient source."

  The woman accepted the token and hesitated again. "My iron body," she began.

  "Yes, I am aware of your iron body and how it enhances your ability to absorb light aura," he cut her off. "But the lamp would provide you with more light aura than you'll be able to find anywhere here. Now shoo, shoo!" he gestured for her to leave. "Your channels aren't going to mend itself."

  The woman still hesitated, and Eithan wondered why. Were they really that surprised that he knew everything? "Remember, I had sworn on my soul to do everything in my power for your benefit," he reminded the woman.

  The woman finally seemed to have had enough and spoke up. "I don't need this," she explained. "I can absorb all light aura, including invisible ones."

  That paused Eithan. He silently thanked the Way that no one he knew was here to witness his stunned expression. "That is interesting," he muttered. Most of his memories had been suppressed by the Origin Shroud when returning to Cradle, and this was one of the rare moments when he missed his presence. He could not help but grin at Sadi. "You're a diamond with VVS1 clarity hidden among other diamonds," he told her.

  The woman did not seem amused by his compliment. And based on her lack of jewellery, he doubted she understood the meaning.

  He slapped his forehead. "All my life, I have ignored the Wastelands, thinking there was nothing but waste. But now I realise and see my mistakes. I shall correct it when I have the chance!" he declared, pointing at the sky.

  Meatball clapped slowly. "I like him," the bird muttered.

  "Anyways," Eithan continued after breaking out of his stupor. "Get the lamp anyway. The light aura from it should be easier and faster to absorb."

  Sadi sighed and nodded, leaving his office and heading for the elevator, which he thought was a marvellous use of a Thousand-Mile cloud.

  He turned his attention back to the two remaining in his study. "Thank you for your patience. Where did we left off?"

  "Path of the Atterist," Meatball chirped.

  Eithan snapped his fingers. "Yes. That path is nothing but impressive. Every practitioner of it that isn't a Sacred Beast reaches Underlord at the minimum." And then he shrugged, "Well, those that didn't eventually die out as their madra ate away their lifeline after a few decades."

  Based on how Whitehall's eyes widened at Eithan's last statement, he summized that the boy had not known how double-edged his path was.

  "Not to worry," Eithan reassured him. "All you have to do is reach Underlord. And it is my job to get you there."

  Whitehall rolled his eyes. "Great, just great. Another lifeline problem."

  "Anyways," Meatball changed the subject. "His madra is made up of various venoms from the Wastelands. He needs to know the multiple venoms first and what they do before attempting to advance further." Meatball paused. "Advancing to Truegold for humans with such a path is... tricky."

  "I agree," Eithan rubbed his hands together. He had never seen a human advancing to Truegold on such a rare path of life and poison. Most of the ones he had heard that survived had died or ascended by now.

  Whitehall did not know what Meatball was talking about, so Eithan elaborated. "You see, young man, your madra consists of hundreds if not thousands of venom madra. I reckon this was due to your iron body."

  When he looked closer, he could not help but admire how wise the Beast King was in giving such an iron body. It was similar to Lindon's Bloodforged iron body. It would do him almost no good for now but in the future. Well, Eithan couldn't help but smile at the thought.

  "May I know the name of your iron body?" Eithan asked excitedly.

  "Godkiller," Whitehall answered. "My master said it was based on another creation of a monarch. He didn't tell me which." He added after a moment, "Iron Body E6254, the original one was called, I think."

  Eithan smiled. Few Monarchs named their experiments that way, considering the Beast King was from the Wastelands. It was easy to identify it as one of Northstrider's. He admired the Godkiller Iron Body once more. He had thought he was the only one among sacred artists willing to push existing Monarch Iron Bodies to such a limit. In the end, he was glad to be mistaken again.

  He continued again after finishing running his perception through Whitehall's spirit. "As I was about to say, usually when advancing to the last stage of gold, a sacred artist pushes their core to the limit, flooding their channels with their madra." He pointed at Whitehall's core. "Your's, however, is not made up of one type of venom madra. And you are also not a venomous sacred beast," he gestured to Meatball as an example. "Your body would need more than a lifetime to adapt and temper to the various venoms, which is time you do not have. When you advance to Truegold, it will cause various fluctuations in different types of venoms inside you. You'll have to counteract those effects with the other venom madras inside you, similar to how you did with your enforcer technique."

  "You've been watching?" Whitehall asked in surprise.

  "Of course," Eithan replied, winking. "I was on the Cloudfortress with you all that time." He waved a dismissal. "You'll get used to it."

  Whitehall did not think he would.

  "Anyways," Eithan continued. "When that madra of yours began to fluctuate, you would have to know precisely what venom they are and which venom to use to counteract it. Then you'll have to repeat it again to counteract the new venom," he beamed. "One wrong mistake, and you'll die instantly if you're lucky."

  "And if I survive?" Whitehall raised an eyebrow.

  Eithan chuckled. "If you survive, you're body will be permanently in pain as the poison does what it does, and you'll eventually succumb to its effects. But I think you'll be begging for death before you reach that point."

  Whitehall sighed, "I guess it makes sense now why Meatball keeps telling me to study the effects of the different venoms before advancing to Truegold."

  "Exactly," Eithan clapped his hands together. "However, your qualms don't stop there," he grinned at Whitehall's pale face. "I also detect that your madra is also flooded with life aura generated from multiple sacred beasts or plants."

  "I didn't know about the life madra," Whitehall muttered.

  "That's where it gets interesting," Eithan leaned close, his eyes bulging, threatening to pop out of their sockets as his thoughts whirled. "Based on the path of the Atterist, life and poison are the same, yes?"

  Whitehall nodded nervously.

  "Have you heard of living poisons?" Eithan asked, smiling uncontrollably.

  "Like a virus?" Whitehall asked.

  Eithan nodded, his smile plastered onto his face. "This subject is more well-researched in the Everwood Continent, but lucky for you, I am also quite knowledgeable about it." He gestured with his hands as he spoke next. "You see, when the life aspect and poison aspect of your madra fluctuate and harmonise together as you advance, it will create different types of viruses. These living poisons."

  "And I'll need to find a way to counteract it, or I might as well be committing suicide," Whitehall muttered.

  "You're catching on quick," Eithan beamed.

  "I guess it makes sense now why I was made to study all those different organs and body parts back in the Wastelands," Whitehall replied.

  "Your master had certainly prepared you for your path with the limited resources he could get in terms of knowledge in the Wastelands," Eithan pointed out.

  "Whoa," Meatball awed at Eithan, her beady eyes wide. "You explained it better than I could ever hope to."

  Eithan nodded a thank you to the bird.

  "Why do I feel like my path will screw me over rather than aid me," Whitehall muttered, closing his eyes.

  Eithan watched Whitehall's eyes behind his wooden mask. The boy's gaze was not one of resignation but of tiredness. Eithan recognised it immediately because it felt like he was gazing at his younger self—the one tired of destroying worlds, the one tired of fighting, the one who wanted to find another solution.

  He decided to do what no one had done for him. Give the boy some hope. His pure madra extended to cover the whole room of his office, disabling any construct or eavesdropper he might not have detected with his bloodline. He needed to be as careful as possible for this. Meatball and Whitehall were stunned by the sudden shock of pure madra through their core, and he raised a hand in an apology.

  "Meatball, take this," he tossed another token to the bird, who caught in between her beaks. "It is connected to my personal funds, and you can use it to buy food and anything you like."

  Meatball did not even say a word before flying out of the room. The door closed automatically after her.

  "You know that might not be a good idea," Whitehall groaned, rubbing his stomach as the effects of the pure madra dissipated.

  "That is perfectly fine," Eithan replied and winked. "It is connected to the royal treasury. My payment for taking your delegation under my wing and other errands I did for the Empire."

  "So what was that for?" Whitehall asked, referring to the sudden wave of pure madra.

  "Privacy," Eithan replied, carving privacy scripts with his madra. Once he was sure it was as secure as possible, he returned his attention to Whitehall. "Have you heard of the Luminous Queen of the Nine-Cloud Court?"

  Whitehall nodded. "Sha Miara. Lindon told me."

  "That's good," Eithan smiled. "But I am sure Lindon did not tell you how her mother died."

  "What does her mother's death have anything to do with this?"

  "You see, the Nine-Cloud Court uses a bloodline technique that allows Monarchs to transfer their advancement to their next of kin, skipping the traditional advancement process," he explained.

  "Can we do the same?" Whitehall asked, intrigued.

  "Of course," Eithan replied. "With enough Monarch resources gathered through ten generations and another millennium to develop the bloodline technique, we shall have a one-percent chance of succeeding."

  Whitehall shook his head, but he smiled at Eithan's words. They had a similar sense of humour. "How did her mother die? Another Monarch?"

  "That's what is interesting," Eithan pointed out. "Who caused her death was a secret buried by the Nine-Cloud Court."

  "Let me guess," Whitehall cut in. "You know exactly who did it."

  "No," Eithan shook his head. "But I know what caused it." He paused, waiting for Whitehall to connect the dots.

  "Poison," Whitehall muttered.

  "Close, but more precisely, a virus," Eithan whispered.

  "Another Monarch's virus?" Whitehall asked.

  "No one is sure, but I personally doubt that," Eithan answered. "The Sha family are close allies with the Monarch of the Everwood Continent, and not even the dragons would dare to risk war with such a 2-to-1 disadvantage."

  Eithan watched Whitehall's eyes sparkle, his fist clenching and unclenching. The boy knew, there was no mistaking it now. The boy had somehow discovered how Dreadgods were still alive.

  "Banish that thought," Eithan sent a weak wave of pure madra enough to shock the boy out of his thoughts. "If any Monarch detects even a hint of that thought, they would squish you like a fly."

  Whitehall looked up to meet Eithan's gaze with a renewed vigour. "What do I need to do?"

  Eithan smiled. "The answer is as straightforward as it is simple. Advance."

  House of Blades

  Iteration Requested. Amalgam

  Date? Request Rejected

  Report Complete

  "This way, Mang!" Sangkuriang called as he ran through the dense foliage, his small feet kicking up fallen leaves. "The flower should be near here. I know Mama will love it!"

  He had seen a cluster of deep purple blossoms on his last venture into the woods with his mother. Their delicate petals had shimmered in the morning light, and he had committed the path to memory. It was to be a surprise—a gift for her.

  Mang loped beside him, his dark fur blending into the shifting shadows cast by the towering trees. The scent of damp earth and moss filled the air, the songs of birds ringing above.

  “There!” Sangkuriang pointed, excitement bursting from his voice. Underneath a massive, gnarled tree, a bed of purple flowers swayed gently in the wind. But before he could take another step, a sharp tug yanked at his leg. He stumbled, looking down to see Mang’s powerful jaws clamped around his trousers, pulling him back with unyielding force. “We’re not even over the border,” Sangkuriang grumbled, tugging his leg free.

  Mang's ears flattened, his golden eyes scanning the forest with an intensity that sent a chill down the boy’s spine. The dog sniffed the air, muscles coiled like a spring.

  Seeing his companion distracted, Sangkuriang seized the opportunity. Without another thought, he dashed toward the flowers.

  Mang’s bark was loud and urgent.

  Then, suddenly—

  His breath caught.

  His feet left the ground.

  A cold, iron grip clamped around his throat, lifting him into the air as if he weighed nothing. His fingers clawed at the hand choking him, his wide eyes locking onto the figure before him.

  "Who do we have here?" a raspy, vile voice sneered.

  The man wore black, his face half-hidden beneath a dark hood. A massive sword was strapped to his back, its hilt worn from use. His fingers dug into Sangkuriang’s throat, cutting off any chance to scream.

  Sangkuriang gasped, his vision blurring at the edges—

  A black blur shot through the air.

  The man howled in pain.

  The next thing Sangkuriang knew, he was falling. He hit the ground with a thud, coughing as he sucked in deep, desperate breaths.

  Above him, Mang had latched onto the attacker’s wrist, his fangs buried deep. Blood dripped onto the forest floor.

  "You—" the man snarled, shaking violently. "You're back, I see."

  Mang growled low and deep, his golden eyes gleaming with fury.

  With a vicious twist, Mang flung the man through the air, sending him crashing through a thick tree trunk. Bark exploded on impact, and the man groaned as he forced himself upright.

  Then—steel rang.

  The man unsheathed his blade.

  It was enormous, almost as tall as he was, jagged like teeth along its edge. A weapon made for brutal, merciless strikes.

  Sangkuriang trembled, his heart pounding against his ribs.

  Then—shadow.

  Darkness swelled around Mang, rippling like ink spilling into water. It engulfed him, swirling, stretching—

  And when it faded, the dog was gone.

  In its place stood a tall man, his long, black hair flowing past his shoulders. His sharp, angular face bore the same golden eyes. Though dressed simply, his presence carried a quiet, lethal power.

  The man in black grinned, rolling his wounded wrist with a sickening crack. "I hope you remember me," he taunted, levelling his massive sword. "This is for my master." Then—he struck.

  The blade came down like a falling star.

  "Run!" Mang roared. "Go now!"

  Sangkuriang didn’t hesitate.

  Terror fueled his legs as he bolted, weaving through the trees. The sounds of battle erupted behind him—steel clashing, trees snapping, the ground trembling with every blow.

  But as he ran, something caught his eye.

  Dangling from the man in black’s hip had been a small, eerie doll.

  Its face was blank, its button eyes staring at him with empty, soulless intent.

  Then—its head turned.

  Sangkuriang's breath hitched.

  He ran faster.