...

  A hot gust whistled through the valley's high grasses, carrying the scent of distant pine and scorched earth. Two youths—a boy and a girl—stepped carefully among the boulders, their ears twitching at every unexpected sound. Though both wore the worn-out clothes of fresh adventurers, their eyes' faint gleam of hope hinted at a grander future they couldn't quite grasp yet.

  Luise, the cat-kin girl, firmly held her used shortsword as she approached an outcropping rock. "Henry," she murmured, tail lashing impatiently, "stop fidgeting—is everything all right?"

  Henry—the raccoon-kin boy with scruffy, ringed ears—froze, trembling with an instinct he didn't fully understand. His [Divinity Line], precisely a [Mystic Skill] named [Close to Fatal], let him sense danger before it struck—a rarity of [Uncommon] and something he was very proud of. And right now, it screamed at him to run.

  Henry gulped, eyes darting. "Luise… we should hide. Quickly."

  She turned around, her feline pupils narrowed. She didn't argue. Henry's fears had saved their skins too many times to ignore, though sometimes it felt like he was just a scaredy-cat, ironically. "Where?"

  He pointed shakily at a cave entrance farther down the slope. "There."

  Luise puffed out a frustrated sigh. "I swear if this is another false alarm—"

  She bit off the rest of her complaint as Henry tugged her along, practically shoving her behind a massive rock formation inside the cave's mouth. The air felt clammy, the darkness beyond unsettling, but she stayed quiet.

  Like that, minutes went by, and she narrowed her glowing eyes at him. "Henry, you really shouldn't overuse the skill like that," she sighed, scratching her neck. "What if a monster was inside—" her words stuck inside her throat when a flock of birds took off in a flurry of wings, their shrill calls echoing across the landscape. Henry sat in a corner, trembling fiercely—something was coming.

  Suddenly, a wild torrent of [Energy] exploded in the distance. Fierce winds blasted across the valley, flattening shrubs into blackened husks. Further up the slopes, pine trees crumbled to dust as if devoured by invisible teeth. Luise's stomach twisted at the display. This was no ordinary storm.

  She glanced at Henry, who cowered beside her, pressing himself against the cave wall. His ringed tail bristled. "W-what is that?"

  Luise swallowed hard. "I don't know… but I don't think we should find out."

  They stayed crouched, nerves raw, as the echo of something monstrous thundered against the valley walls, destroying everything around them that emitted an aura of deathly purulence and sheer terror.

  "Muhahaha!" A loud, booming laughter echoed, making Henry hold his ear shut and close his eyes. 'What monsters are fighting right now?!' Luise wasn't better; she only hoped she wouldn't need to face those giants.

  The youths weren't wrong—a fight went on not too far from them as two anomalies sapped all life from the area around them. Pomerian skidded across the cracked earth, rapier raised to block the next devastating blow. Every nerve in his body crackled with tension. [Energy] swirled around him like pitch-black flames, the outpouring so violent that the wind howled in protest.

  He faced off against a towering form: Bartholomew, once a friend and comrade, now transformed into a form that made every punch feel like a mountain descended. The wild demon's hulking, crimson-skinned body stood nearly three meters tall (10ft), tail slicing the air like a living blade. It all radiated with volatile power.

  Pomerian's heart pounded. His daughter's future—Isabella's future—hung on this battle. He forced calm into his breathing. 'Focus.' Like pestilence itself, the rapier's tip glimmered with black [Energy] surrounding the blade with masterful precision. His lethal domain, still active and strengthened to the utmost, slowly and painfully withered his old friend down.

  Bartholomew bellowed, his voice an unholy snarl—his knuckles touching the ground like a failed abomination. He moved his massive upper body and swung with unnatural and unstoppable destruction. Pomerian weaved aside, rapier flashing and deflecting the force able to pulverize steel. He scored a light cut, immediately infected and rotting, but Bartholomew's skin knitted back as if mocking the attempt.

  'He's stronger than I remember,' Pomerian concerned, launching a counterattack. 'And not holding back anymore.'

  In their younger days, Bartholomew preferred skillful brawls. A gentleman's duel, so to speak—if this barbarian could be called like that. Now, there was no restraint, no pretense of mercy. Each blow cratered the land, leaving it impaired and deformed, while Pomerean's counterattacks mirrored the devastation, making it an area of disease, rotting all that he touched. Worse, the [Domain of Ailments] barely scratched that crimson hide, forcing him to accept an irritating truth.

  'We could fight for days and still not be done.' Retreat hissed at the back of his mind. Pride rebelled against it—Pomerian was no coward—but Isabella's safety demanded he survive.

  It was frustrating, but The Nightmare's training was overwhelmingly effective, increasing their stamina to an absurd degree. Both of them could probably fight decently for a week before tiring out.

  "My old friend, I guess we will have to continue this another time," he tensed, preparing to flee, when Bartholomew's gigantic form shrank. "What... are you doing?!"

  In place of the giant demon stood a small, red-skinned boy with large horns curling from his forehead and a cruel grin on his face. The bizarre shift radiated unsettling power—torment—an aura that truthfully encompassed the perverse mindset of the Tail-Eater.

  Pomerian's rapier trembled in his hand. "Are... you giving up?" he barely managed to ask, confused and surprisingly disturbed by the transformation.

  Bartholomew's voice took on a mocking, puppylike lilt, resonating like a repeated chorus of terror, "That little bastard gifted me real magic—isn't that adorable?" He spun in place on his blackish feet as if coated with tar, wagging a tail tipped with a pentagram-like ornament. The moment was almost comical—if not for the suffocating tension that made Pomerian's spine tingle. "Isn't it precious?"

  Pomerian gulped, the grip tightened on his rapier, his instinct screaming danger even though his experience told him otherwise. "So," his body tensed like spring, readying himself. "You found some use for this worthless form?"

  This form was unique to the Silver-Tail Lineage and an enigma. When their [Divinity Line] sealed their fate, it would naturally manifest alongside two others. However, they found no use for it—at least until now.

  Bartholomew's laughter was high and eerie, and his black eyes depicted endless darkness when locking. "Oh, it's more than that, Pompom. It's the key to a new era. Magic changes the rules of the game. Now, I move through space and wield spells like a puppy throwing stones at birds," his eyes turned into an array of colors, depicting outer circle. "Do you want to be my bird?"

  "So you've sold yourself to him," Pomerian spat. "Coward," his words laced with venom. "All this power and for what? To oppose an old friend?"

  Bartholomew stabbed his tail into the ground, heaving his body playfully and sitting cross-legged, his body moving from side to side, bobbing. "Let's just say Alex is a decent guy. This form"—he patted his puppylike chest and turned joyfully upside down—"isn't so useless after all."

  Bartholomew conjured a Mana Bubble, a shimmering barrier that nullified the creeping rot from Pomerian's domain, unable to touch him anymore, "You wanna run? As if!" His upside-down smile widened, "My reason for wanting to help the boy is simpler than you think—" he shrugged, still bobbing on his tail, "—a Silver-Tail always pays their debt! Hahaha!" The demon's high-pitched laughter reverberated, pricking at Pomerian's psyche—mental defense skills kicked in, dissolving the onslaught of illusions threatening to drag him under.

  Bartholomew's body glowed with etched runes, burning with ancient light—about to unleash something. Yet Pomerian flashed, appearing right before Bartholomew, his blade pointed toward the neck—a chance to end it quickly. As he touched the mana bubble, the red-skinned boy was gone, leaving a red flicker of light.

  "What?" Pomerian hissed, remembering what Bartholomew said, "He can use blink?!" A spell only mages of high caliber could use, making them a dangerous group as they could easily avoid any attack if their reflexes allowed.

  A voice echoed right behind him—a whisper of anguish—making Pomerian immediately shield himself with [Energy] as his instincts cried death. "Now we can have fun," a clap followed, distorting the air and creating a blast that reverberated through the heavens. One shockwave after the other rippled through the area, rattling the ground like an earthquake and creating fissures.

  Pomerian couldn't hold his ground as the torrent of wind ripped his [Energy]-coated form through the air at incredible speed, propelling him away from the massive eruption. 'Argh! How can he be this strong?' he worried as his ears rang, his hearing fading. Moments later, he crashed through several trees, stopping after sliding along the ground.

  An eerily voice resonated through the grounds, tormenting all living beings as if some were still alive by some miracle. "Come one, Pompom! Let me at least test my new form for a lil' longer! Hahaha!" Bartholomew's sadistic smile graced his face as he levitated multiple meters (3.3ft = 1m) above the ground, his oversized wings open—similar to a bat and glowing with etched runes.

  After moments of nothing happening, Bartholomew frowned, "Fine! Have it your way, you killjoy!" He leisurely waved his hand, chanting an ancient incantation—wind blade—all trees were sliced in half, followed by an enormous shockwave, rocking the dust away.

  "There you are!" Bartholomew relished as Pomerian squatted with an empty healing potion in his mouth, dry blood dripping down his ears. "What a cheat!" his voice playfully mocked.

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  Just as he was about to wave his hand again, Pomerian activated [Flash] multiple times instantly, appearing before him like a streak of lightning. His eyes narrowed with deadly intent, and a blade materialized before Bartholomew, swiftly piercing its throat—the blade still only cut through a flicker of red light.

  Bartholomew appeared further up, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, 'Pompom is so cute.' With another wave of his hand and a chant, another wind blade appeared, about to slice everything in its wake.

  Pomerian barely avoided the attack—the ground cratered beside him as another shockwave followed. 'Here he comes, again, so predictable,' Bartholomew mused as he saw how his friend immediately flashed toward him, multiple strings of his [Energy] about to flank from all directions, their residue prickling his skin, partly breaking through the mana bubble, 'Though, he is still a dangerous bastard.'

  With another blink, he appeared right behind him. 'I need to end this quickly,' a worrying thought as Pomerian became increasingly more serious, shedding away his pacifistic and soft personality.

  Bartholomew inhaled, unleashing a Vulcanic Breath that turned the sky into a furnace. Pomerian turned, whirling his rapier in a tight arc, slicing through the molten wave with the [Energy Puncture] technique—a hallmark of the Feather-Paw household—a way to disrupt the flow of the [Energy Veins and Core], able to control the flow almost perfectly and find a weakness in everything as his spells.

  The molten deluge split, spraying harmlessly aside in sizzling droplets—anticlimactic until a sudden surge of concentrated [Energy] pushed through like an arrow, directing itself toward Bartholomew. A blink barely avoided the streak of death that pushed through endlessly, only stopping at a mountain that began to crumble into dust.

  Bartholomew's face twisted in frustration as Pomerian remained the steadfast fighter he always was, meticulously following his strategy without wavering or changing—only now with the intent to kill.

  "Playtime is over," Bartholomew declared, the etched runes on his body and wings beginning to light up dangerously, the skin on his body sizzling. "Let's see how much you can endure!"

  Multiple sparkles of red light appeared one after another, and every time, a spell was hurled from all angles. Pomerian soared higher, gracefully air-walking to evade each projectile, countering with his techniques, firing streaks of [Energy], or beautifully swinging the rapier. Their fight became a chaotic dance of illusions, thunderous collisions, and swirling black-and-red auras.

  Suddenly, when Bartholomew blinked, his ice lance firing where Pomerian should have been—he was gone. 'Did he actually?!' He immediately amplified his voice with a spell, "Run, Pompom! But your fief is closer than Mari's! And trust me; she will chop your head off immediately while I kill every single pup in your fief, ravage your wife, and—!"

  Reluctantly, Pomerian stopped, looking up to him. He sheathed his rapier with a defeated sigh. "This is meaningless, Barth. I also think that this will lead to nowhere."

  Bartholomew's grin widened into something maniacal, though he retained that unnerving puppy form. "Lay down that sword then, good boy—"

  But Bartholomew's sentence cut off in a gasp, his spine-tingling, as Pomerian tugged off one of his gloves. Black, necrotic [Energy] oozed down Pomerian's arm, a vile stench rolling off him in waves.

  Bartholomew blinked away multiple times, fear crossing his eyes. "You are crazy!"

  When far enough away, Bartholomew started frantically conjuring a small, dense orb overhead. At first, it appeared no larger than a puppy's toy. Then, its actual density became clear, distorting the light around it. The orb pulsed like a living thing, shaped into a snarling dog silhouette—the true strength of his form—able to control [Energy] through the mana skills to a masterful degree.

  No established skills existed for controlling [Energy], so everyone had to devise their own methods to manage the numerous types they possessed. For example, the Leonandras had a straightforward approach: They combined Energy with their aura, linking their control to their emotional state. Until now, the Silver-Tail lineage had been controlling [Energy] using their various forms. However, a new method had emerged—far more effective and dangerous than anyone could have imagined.

  "Are you sure, Pomerian?!" Bartholomew wanted to avoid this clash, as he had witnessed this form a few times, always ending badly for everyone. "I really would like not to kill you!"

  Pomerian removed his second glove, the world around him withering at the presence of his bare, rotted hands. "This isn't just about Alex, you, or anyone else…" His voice rumbled, low and ominous, as his domain of disease dissolved—a dark sludge of death and pestilence spread through his body. "This is about my daughter, my lineage, and a way to stop the curse tormenting my ancestors."

  Bartholomew's twisted puppy face contorted as Pomerian's transformation was almost over. "Have it your way!" It was now what he wanted to avoid from the beginning—them using their most volatile and uncontrollable techniques.

  With a sharp clap, Bartholomew launched the snarling [Energy] hound at Pomerian. It howled, warping the air with a hellish roar. Pomerian exhaled and charged forward, black sludge-like power burning across his entire body—encasing him entirely. They collided in a deafening crash of roiling energies.

  ...

  Hidden inside the cave, Henry and Luise clung to each other. The ground kept trembling as shockwave after shockwave pummeled the valley. Pebbles rained from the cave ceiling; Henry used his arms to shield Luise's head in an attempt to appear brave—an adorable gesture.

  She pushed him gently to the side, his eyes filled with tears, begging her to stay. However, she ignored him, peering out carefully, her heart pounding. "Are these…the monsters everyone warned us about?"

  Henry bit his lip until it bled. "So many soldiers came through here before… it didn't make sense. But now—"

  Luise tried to force a laugh. It came out shaky. "Hehe, we sure picked the perfect route to Wolfsteeth, huh? We probably should have believed the rumors."

  Henry didn't respond. No wonder the roads were empty. Every step on this journey had tested their nerve, but this battle was beyond mortal comprehension. The very sky seemed to rip open with each exchange of [Energy]—no wonder the rulers were monsters themselves.

  While still on the lookout, she tried to calm him. "We'll stay put for now. One day at Wolfsteeth Academy is worth a few more nights in hiding."

  He nodded, though his eyes still brimmed with fear. "M... my gut says it's not safe yet."

  Before Luise could reassure him, another shockwave split the air. Trees snapped like twigs and disintegrated before their eyes; the ground outside fissured and disintegrated, tearing away layer after layer as a torrent of wind swept through the ravaged lands, taking with it one layer after another as if wanting to enact revenge.

  The chaotic wind scoured the valley floor outside the cave—slowly moving inside. Luise's tail puffed up as sweat soaked through her thick fur. "Hold on!" She immediately grabbed him, pressing Henry deeper into the cave.

  As Luise looked back, the wind didn't stop invading the cave. "Up! We need to go up!" she shouted while lifting Henry and activating her [Mystical Skill - Perfect Wanderer], allowing her to navigate the rocky cave effortlessly.

  Inside, the flickering light of the luminescent moss revealed a steep rock wall ahead. Holding Henry securely in her arms, she began climbing, leaping from one handhold to another with practiced precision. Her muscles screamed in protest, but fear drove her onward, wet dripping from her forehead and teary eyes. She skillfully avoided patches of broken stone from the previous clash; her instinct screamed that death was near. "We can do it, Henry!" she urged, determination etched in her every move.

  When they barely made up, reaching a higher plateau, Luise gently let Henry down—a shivering mess—her hands wet, as his pants, but she couldn't blame him. "Henry, stay back and don't move." She carefully glanced down, her pupils trembling with fear. 'What... is that?!' The lingering [Energy] in the air slowly flowed inside, causing the ground to crack and disintegrate beneath them.

  Through the swirl of dust on the outside, Luise glimpsed two figures streaking across the sky—one a tiny demon boy with giant wings glowing red, the other a grotesque specter of black pus and withering disease. Their clash rattled the ground, roaring overhead like furious thunderclouds.

  Luise's pulse raced. She recognized the raw ferocity of that black [Energy]. If it touched them, they'd be dead in seconds. She looked up, seeing another plateau. "We need to move higher!"

  While she lifted Henry again, her muscles buckling slowly, a monstrous screech rumbled through the cave, like from the depths of the abyss, an eerily kittenish voice, "You gotta be kidding me, you stupid bastard!"

  Bartholomew darted among the clouds, cursing under his breath. He was flickering spells and blinking in and out of sight, but that hideous form that Pomerian had taken was relentless. Rotted limbs reattached themselves, dripping decay all the while.

  "I will cut your head off, you bastard!" Bartholomew was the one fleeing the form of Pomerian, the one that made his title too literal that it became comical—The Wretched Beast—a form in which he would lose his mind but also one that was similarly extremely dangerous.

  As he was close again, Bartholomew saw that all reason left his eyes. But he couldn't care much about this friend as his skin began to rot from the aura alone while numerous diseases invaded his body.

  'Fuck!' He blinked further away. He threw one [Energy] infused spell after another at him, cutting the head off so many times, it felt like a bad joke, only for Pomerian to regenerate again, 'Where is Mari when I need her stupid ass!'

  With a thunderbolt, Pomerian's head was torn off from his shoulders again, only to regenerate slowly, spitting black ichor—still hunting down Bartholomew mid-air, "Why me?! Just go and fuck Brutus or Ori—" he blinked further upwards, trying to avoid the living death by all means necessary and attempted not to turn his fief into a place of absolute extinction, "—fuck!"

  As their continuous onslaught continued, Bartholomew and Pomerian went further up while dwindling their stamina. Suddenly, the cold and thin air made him think of something. 'Right,' he grinned viciously. 'Need to remind myself to send Alex a fruit basket for that idea.'

  With a savage chant, he conjured portals around Pomerian, summoning cursed chains that snared the Wretched Beast's limbs. They corroded the moment they touched him but held just long enough for Bartholomew to create a giant earthen bullet, making it rotate increasingly faster as it spilled black ichor like a tornado of disease.

  "Good luck, old friend!" Bartholomew screeched as the portals moved downwards, dragging him with all their might, but Pomerian barely moved, wrestling against a massive force. Only as the earthen bullet began to move down, a propulsion spell creating an enormous thrust, did the wretched beast plummet, roaring in a blind rage. The ground loomed below.

  Miles above the ground, Bartholomew hovered, exhaustion catching up to him. His puppylike face twisted in frustration. "Just… stay down."

  Pomerian slammed into the ground with apocalyptic force. The shockwave flattened everything around the impact site. He tried to rise, but metal spears from above slammed with the same eruption into his arms, legs, and torso—one burst after the other, ripping his body into pieces and pinning him down.

  His wicked black aura began to flicker as he no longer had any stamina left. Bartholomew drifted down to the ruined clearing, a grin wiped from his face. "I told you, Pompom," he croaked, his voice trembling with equal parts relief and dread. "Let the youngsters decide their own fate."

  Pomerian's screeches became quieter until he stopped, still blazing with plague-like [Energy]—consciousness slipped through his fingers, and the Wretched Beast form receded after the last struggle.

  Exhausted, Bartholomew sank to his knees. "Damn it…" He coughed, spitting blood. "All of this… for Isabella... I hope this bitch is worth it, Alex."

  ...

  Henry and Luise felt the earth's final tremor subside inside the cave. An ominous hush fell over the valley, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

  Luise peeked outside, ears perked. No swirling black aura or fiery red demon remained visible in the skies. "I-I think it's over," she whispered, though an echo of dread still trembled in her voice.

  Henry nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "We're alive…somehow."

  They shared a moment of hesitant relief. Their goal—Wolfsteeth Academy—felt unimaginably distant now, overshadowed by these warring giants of [Energy] and magic. But they had come too far to turn back.

  Luise rubbed Henry's back comfortingly. "We'll keep going after a few days staying here," she peeked toward the ground, the lingering [Energy] still fighting its own battle.

  He managed a weak grin. "Scaredy cat or not, I'm not giving up."

  With quiet determination, they gathered their ragged belongings and built a camp—on their mind, the road to Wolfsteeth awaited.

  "No matter what nightmares lurk, we'll face them… together."

  Henry nodded, slowly calming down. "Y—" A cracking sound resonated through the cave, making him screech, "A monster!"

  Luise laughed at him, still peeking toward the ground and outside, her mind full of worries, 'A long road, indeed.'