The moment Ryuji’s crescent-shaped energy slashes tore through the air, Yourupt’s eyes sharpened. With a fluid motion, he weaved between each slash, the trails of light cutting inches past his skin. A sudden pulse of power erupted from him—a shockwave that sent Ryuuji skidding backward, dirt and energy rippling beneath his heels.

  Yourupt stood firm, staring at his own hands as they trembled slightly. A strange hum resonated through his bones, something not quite mana… not quite magic.

  Yourupt: “This feeling…” he muttered under his breath, “…I felt it before. In my last battle with the shadow dragon… when he damaged my soul.”

  The memory surged to the surface, unbidden. That sensation, raw and searing, had touched something deep within him—something he hadn’t had words for. But now… now he was sure.

  Yourupt: “That wasn’t the only time, was it?”

  His mind drifted, connecting vague, flickering pieces of moments that felt wrong—out of place. Like misplaced thoughts in someone else's head.

  But his train of thought shattered when he noticed something that pulled him back to the present: his shadows were gone, not even the ones within himself.

  They hadn’t just vanished—they had been pushed away, displaced. And with their absence, the strange energy he had been feeling faded as well.

  He scanned the area, and it was dead silent. Too silent.

  That’s when it hit him. Hard.

  None of them—Ryuuji, Jay, or Yourupt himself—could use mana or magic anymore. It was like the battlefield had been drained. Even the air felt dry, stripped of its usual energy.

  And then, just before he could shout a warning—

  A pulse. Cold. Sharp. Heavy.

  Time seemed to slow.

  And Yourupt saw something: his life flashing before his eyes—but this time, it wasn’t the usual memories. No, this was a memory buried so deep, it had never surfaced before.

  Thirteen years ago.

  The Rogue Incident.

  He was younger. Surrounded by friends. Panic filled the air, and screams echoed through the streets.

  And then it appeared—a rogue robot-unit, broken free of its programming. Glowing eyes, heavy arms, spinning blades. It tore through them, merciless and fast. He saw his friends fall—one by one—ripped apart before his younger self's eyes.

  But then—something changed.

  As the robot turned toward him, a figure flashed into view.

  The memory blurred between reality and impossibility.

  One second, the rogue AI was reaching for him—and the next, something… someone stood between them. Shadows exploded outward—not from him, not from the mech… from the deep within his being.

  And then—

  Boom.

  A pulse of pure, unfiltered energy blasted the entire area. Even in the memory, the force was enough to launch both Ryuuji and Jay into the air in the present, their bodies crashing into the dirt like ragdolls.

  Neither of them could stand. The weight of that energy crushed down on everything.

  Yourupt stood in the middle of it all, chest rising and falling as if he had just run through time itself.

  His eyes flicked open—wide with realization.

  While both Ryuji and Jay were still trying to stand, the pressure from that last wave still clinging to their limbs like a curse, Ryuji’s eyes flickered with something—recognition.

  Jay noticed immediately.

  Jay: “You know something, don’t you, Ryuji?”

  Ryuji didn’t answer right away. His breathing steadied as he reached inward, feeling his mana slowly returning, like a tide reversing after being pulled too far out. With a quiet grunt, he reforged a basic defensive veil around his and Jay’s bodies—thin, but enough to shield them from whatever came next.

  Ryuji: “Use your eyes,” Ryuji said under his breath. “That has to be the other Yourupt. His mana… it’s different. Cleaner. Not like Dark Yourupt’s. I

  think he just reawakened Whakarongo Mana.”

  Jay’s expression sharpened. He opened his soul-sight with his left eye, scanning the area, then locking onto Yourupt. His brow furrowed.

  Jay: “You might be right,” Jay said. “But… we’re at a disadvantage. I don’t see our men anywhere. They’re gone.”

  The two stood in silence for a second longer as Yourupt stood at the center of it all, shadows slowly returning to his side, but the strange energy that

  had blanketed the area was gone, like it never existed. Still, the aftertaste of it hung in the air.

  Ryuji clenched his fists.

  Ryuji: “If this continues… he’s going to grow even stronger. If people find out about the deal we’re making here, we’re finished. They’ll turn on us. No one will trust us again. We’ll be branded traitors.”

  Jay shook his head, his tone bitter.

  Ryuji: “You can’t trust that monster. You know how many lives he’s ended. How much blood is on those hands. You were there. You saw it. And now we just added more to that list with our men”

  “I did,” Ryuji snapped. “And I haven’t forgotten. But I also haven’t forgotten what we’re fighting for. You trust me, right?”

  Jay was silent.

  “Then trust me now. Stand down. Let’s talk to him like we planned, we still don’t know if he killed our men and took them somewhere. As much as I want to kill him too… we’re risking everything. Our men. Our future. I just want to get them home and start rebuilding after everything his dark self destroyed… even if it means making a deal with the devil himself.”

  Jay looked away, jaw tight, his hands slowly dropping to his sides. He didn’t like it. Not one bit. But he knew Ryuji. He knew when his friend’s mind was made up.

  Jay: “Alright,” Jay muttered. “You win, Ryuji.”

  Ryuji and Jay would put their weapons down, and Ryuji shouted out, hoping Yourupt could hear him, “Royal Guard Yourupt—we stand down! Please stop your attack!”

  Yourupt, still caught in a quiet storm of thoughts, was pulled back by Ryuji’s voice. The pulsing energy around him began to fade as he slowly walked

  toward the two men, his gaze low and controlled.

  As he moved, the familiar voice of Drakaros echoed in his thoughts.

  Drakaros: “Are you okay, Master?”

  Yourupt replied silently,

  Yourupt: “Nothing I can’t handle… but I can’t have you coming out right now. They likely thought the same, and that’s probably the only reason they haven’t tried to kill me yet.”

  Drakaros quickly responded, firm and unwilling to back down.

  Drakaros: “I can’t just stand by if there’s a risk of another sneak attack, Master.”

  Yourupt’s expression tightened. He appreciated Drakaros’ loyalty, but the stakes were far too high.

  Yourupt: “I know. But if this fight keeps going… if I call you out and things escalate, the damage you’ll cause—especially from the air—will draw attention. It’ll give away our position. The families aren’t watching right now, but if they find out the Maids were making secret deals and I was involved? That’s a full-scale war between them, me, and the Maids. Chihaya and I both know we can’t afford that.”

  Drakaros paused, then gave a single, reluctant response before withdrawing from the link.

  Drakaros: “As you wish, Master.”

  The silence that followed settled heavy in Yourupt’s chest as he closed the distance between him and the two men, the air tense but no longer suffocating.

  Now with his focus back on the two men, Yourupt narrowed his eyes slightly and asked,

  Yourupt: “Why did you men attack me?”

  Jay stepped forward, voice sharp with frustration.

  Jay: “We should be asking you that—\where’s the maid that was supposed to meet us? And where are our men?”

  At that moment, Yourupt remembered what he had done with the guards. Without another word, he extended his hand, and his shadows rippled out around him, forming swirling portals.

  Jay’s eyes widened.

  Yourupt: “You better not be—”

  Ryuji: “Wait,” Ryuji interrupted, holding out an arm to stop him.

  From the shadows, figures began to emerge—Ryuji and Jay’s soldiers, wounded but alive. Some stumbled out, others were being carried by tendrils of shadow itself. Yourupt knelt beside them, already weaving faint pulses of energy into his hands as he began healing their worst wounds.

  Yourupt: “They were in my inner shadow world,” Yourupt explained, his voice calm and steady. “I needed to get them out of the way—just in case you continued trying to kill me. It was the safest option at the time.”

  Ryuji bowed respectfully to Yourupt, his tone sincere.

  Ryuji: “I’m very sorry for the actions of my men. They thought you were—”

  Yourupt: “My dark self,” Yourupt interrupted, finishing the sentence for him. “It’s fine. But I was caught off guard by your friend’s attack. I’ll admit—he’s got a pretty good aim to land a hit like that.”

  Jay narrowed his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  Jay: “If you’re not careful, I might show you what a really good shot looks like.”

  Yourupt’s expression lit up with a spark of energy, his tone sharpening as he leaned forward slightly.

  Yourupt: “Don’t test what little luck you’ve got left, cowboy.”

  Ryuji stepped between them quickly, exhaling through his nose.

  Ryuji: “Alright, that’s enough. As much as I’d love to see you two go at it again, we still have a deal to discuss—starting with why Maid Isabella isn’t here and why you are here in her place.”

  Yourupt raised a hand, and several healer shadows emerged from the dark, moving silently to tend to the wounded men. As they got to work, he stepped forward, waving a hand to restore the damage done to the garden—broken stone, shredded plants, and scattered debris pulling themselves back together like time rewinding.

  With another motion, a table and three chairs emerged from the ground, shaped out of polished black stone and anchored by mana-infused roots beneath. As he sat down at one side, he gestured for Ryuji and Jay to take their seats.

  Yourupt: “I’ll update you two on the current situation—and this deal,” he said calmly, “but before we get into the terms of such a thing…”

  He reached into a flickering pocket of his inner shadow world, pulling out a sleek, metal briefcase. Placing it on the table with a light thud, he clicked it open and looked up at them with a focused gaze.

  Yourupt: “I have some questions I’d like to ask first.”

  Yourupt leaned forward, his fingers steepled.

  Yourupt: “Before we talk terms,” he said, “I need to ask—these rifts that have been appearing near your territory... have you felt anything strange from them? I encountered one recently near your northern outpost. The energy leaking out—it wasn’t mana. It felt… wrong. Familiar, somehow.”

  Ryuji exchanged a glance with Jay before turning back to Yourupt.

  Jay: “How do you know about that?” he asked, his voice tinged with caution.

  Yourupt’s expression remained calm, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke.

  Yourupt: “Lady Chihaya mentioned them. She told me about strange disturbances happening near the borderlands. I didn’t think much of it until I encountered one myself. The energy was unlike anything I’ve felt before.”

  Ryuji, who had been quiet up until now, shifted in his seat.

  Ryuji: "I've been hearing rumors about the rifts too. But they're not just random. They’ve been appearing in places with significant history, especially near key battles or old ruins. No one knows what’s causing them yet."

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  Yourupt nodded slowly.

  Yourupt: "I found one near the northern outpost—right near where you’re saying they’ve appeared. And the thing that stood out was how unnatural the energy felt. It didn’t match anything like mana or magical signatures I’m used to." He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It felt... wrong, like it was leeching something from the world itself."

  Jay exchanged a look with Ryuji before asking,

  Jay: “And these rifts... what exactly do you think they are?”

  Yourupt leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

  Yourupt: “I’m not sure yet, but I suspect they’re tied to something much darker. When I fought the Shadow Dragon—similar energy seeped into the battlefield, causing the fight to spiral out of control. And that wasn’t the only time.”

  Jay, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke up.

  Jay: "You know, speaking of strange abilities..." He turned to Ryuji before looking back at Yourupt. "My left eye… it's the only thing left of me that still lets me use mana at full capacity. The rest of my body can’t handle the burst of power anymore. It’s how I’ve kept up with people like you." He paused for a moment, then continued, "But because of that, it's also turned my right eye into something a bit... special. Some might call it a curse, but it's also my greatest advantage."

  Yourupt leaned forward, intrigued.

  Yourupt: "Special how?"

  Jay’s lips curled slightly.

  Jay: "I can see things others can't. I can track mana signatures, detect hidden spells, and even sense the flow of energy. It’s what allowed me to pinpoint the energy coming off your shadows when your men tried to hold me down." He glanced at Ryuji. "And it’s not just for detection. I can use it to unleash powerful bursts of energy, too. But the more I use it, the more draining it gets on my body."

  Yourupt's gaze sharpened as he processed the information.

  Yourupt: “Sounds like you’ve had to make some difficult choices, especially with that kind of power.”

  Jay shrugged lightly.

  Yourupt’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced at Jay.

  Yourupt: “Earlier… when my shadowborns tried to restrain you—one second they were there, and the next, their heads were just… gone. That wasn’t your gun.”

  Jay’s expression darkened a little. He tapped his temple, just above his closed right eye.

  Jay: “No. That was this.”

  Ryuji looked over.

  Ryuji: “You never use that eye unless you have to.”

  Jay: “Yeah,” Jay muttered, adjusting his hat slightly as if to shield it. “Because using it drains me like hell. This eye… it’s not mine. Not really. I lost my original right eye in a dream. One of those places where time doesn't move right and truth walks around like it owns the place. I looked at it. Saw it.

  The truth. Nearly died from it.”

  Yourupt stilled at that, his shadow flickering unnaturally.

  Jay continued, voice low.

  Jay: “Truth himself gave me his own right eye—said it was an apology. Said I’d need it more than he would. Since then… I’ve been able to see things no one should. Souls, lies, weak points in time itself.”

  He paused for a beat, then added,

  Jay: “But it’s not just for looking. When I focus, when I really focus… I can use it to attack directly. Not just what I see—but what I know is there. Like those shadowborns. I didn’t fire a shot. I just… willed them gone.”

  Yourupt leaned back slowly, a faint hum of unease in the air.

  Yourupt: “So you carry a god’s eye... one that lets you erase what it deems false.”

  Jay cracked a tired smile.

  Jay: “Pretty much. I call it Sight of Truth. And I keep it shut most of the time. Not just because it drains me—but because sometimes, it sees too much.”

  Ryuji gave a small shake of his head.

  Ryuji: “That’s gotta be the most Jay thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Jay gave a one-shouldered shrug.

  Jay: “Yeah, well. You try waking up every day with half a god’s eyeball stuck in your face.”

  Jay leaned back a bit in his chair, arms crossed as the glow in his left eye finally faded.

  Jay: “You asked how I was able to hit your soul, even with all that mana reinforcing it,” he said, voice steady. “It wasn’t just the eye. It was the gun I used.”

  Yourupt raised an eyebrow.

  Yourupt: “Figured it wasn’t anything ordinary.”

  Jay nodded and pulled out his Colt Army Model 1860, the metal worn but clearly taken care of, glowing runes faintly etched along the barrel. “This is

  part of a set called Clear Sights. Only five guns like it were ever made. And this one? It’s a Grade-3 weapon.”

  Yourupt frowned.

  Yourupt: “Wait… graded? As in one of the thirty weapons made by the Black Blacksmith?”

  Jay: “Yeah,” Jay said. “He only ever made thirty weapons in his whole life. Each one was graded based on how well it was made, the materials used, and how powerful it could be with the right user. My Colts here are one of them.”

  Yourupt leaned in slightly, interested now.

  Yourupt: “The Black Blacksmith—he’s the one that forged weapons, some of the greatest weapons creation has seen its sight on, right?”

  Jay: “That’s the one,” Jay said. “My other gun, a custom Barrett M82, is part of the same set. It’s made with the bones of a demon prince and the wings of a fallen angel. Both guns were forged with a special alloy called Manacite—it’s one of the only materials that can cancel mana on contact.”

  Yourupt: “So that’s how you broke through all my layers of defense,” Yourupt muttered. “Even my soul protection didn’t stand a chance.”

  Jay gave a small shrug.

  Jay: “Yeah. I don’t use these bullets often, but when I do… they’re designed to hit what nobody else can. I call them Manacite Hollowpoints. They cut through magic, enchantments, even soul defenses. Each one is inscribed with truth markings and sealed with a bit of angelic energy with the help of

  my right eye blessing them to always make sure they hit their mark.”

  Ryuji let out a low whistle.

  Ryuji: “And here I was thinking you were just lucky with that shot.”

  Jay chuckled.

  Ryuji: “Nah. When do I pull the trigger with these? There’s no luck involved.”

  Yourupt leaned back, the shadows around him settling.

  Yourupt: “I’ve seen a lot of weapons in my time. But those… those are something else.”

  Jay looked at the Colt, then backed up.

  Jay: “They’re more than just weapons. They’re reminders. Of what I’ve survived—and what I’m willing to end if I have to.”

  Yourupt’s gaze shifted from Jay to the man sitting across from him.

  Yourupt: “And you,” he said, voice smooth, eyes thoughtful. “I’ve seen the way you move. There’s discipline behind it. Who taught you?”

  Ryuji leaned back a little in his seat, letting out a slow breath. “Name’s Ryuji Enokida. Head of the bounty hunter, mostly. Grew up in a quiet village.

  My old man—Daichi Enokida—raised me on his own. He’s a blacksmith.”

  At the mention of the name, something flickered behind Yourupt’s eyes. A brief pause. He didn’t say anything, but the name echoed in his thoughts.

  Enokida… I’ve heard that name before. Not recent, but not forgotten either. He let it pass, for now.

  Ryuji: “My mom?” Ryuji went on. “She’s a demon from the Leich clan. Fancy name, big reputation. Never met her. She never showed up, so I don’t

  waste time thinking about her.”

  Jay said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched—he knew Ryuji wasn’t one to talk about his past unless he meant it.

  Ryuji: “My dad saw I had a thing for fighting. Used to go wild with sticks as a kid. So he sent me to train with his old friend, Yajime. Taught me the North Way Eight Techniques. I picked 'em up quicker than most. Ended up learning a couple secret ones, too.”

  Yourupt nodded, clearly interested now.

  Yourupt: “That’s not an easy path. Especially the hidden techniques.”

  Ryuji gave a half-shrug.

  Ryuji: “Didn’t have the luxury to be lazy. I grew up watching my dad get beat by the same people he owed money to. That kinda thing sticks with you. So I decided I’d get strong—and rich. No more debts. No more fists flying over the dinner table.”

  Yourupt’s eyes dropped to the katana at Ryuji’s side.

  Yourupt: “And that blade?”

  Ryuji: “My father made it. Called it Asmodeus . Rare metals, heat-tempered and folded more times than I can count. Not the flashiest thing, but it’s mine. It’s sharp, loyal, and doesn’t complain.”

  Yourupt’s gaze lingered a moment longer, then he tilted his head.

  Yourupt: “You’re searching for something, though.”

  Ryuji nodded.

  Ryuji: “A blade called Aamon. Word is, it’s one of the Seven Legendary Swords made by the Black Blacksmith himself.”

  That got a small reaction from Yourupt. He leaned back slightly, a flicker of recognition in his expression.

  Yourupt: “Aamon… yes. The weakest of the seven, if such a term even applies to weapons of that tier. Still dangerous enough to level a battlefield.”

  Ryuji: “Exactly,” Ryuji said. “Even the weakest of the Seven’s a miracle of forging. I want to find it. Not for the name—just to see if it lives up to the stories.”

  Yourupt rose slowly, shadows curling at his feet as he reached behind him—into his shadow Inner World. From the void, he drew a blade wreathed in silent power, dark steel crackling faintly with static.

  Yourupt: “This is Zhor'Raik'Vorr,” he said, voice low and steady. “One of the Seven Legendary Blades. Forged in a forgotten age… gifted by King

  Draco to Selene Stormweaver. She was its last wielder.”

  Jay’s eyes narrowed.

  Jay: “Selene, you mean you have the lighting princess’s sword? So that’s where it ended up…”

  Yourupt gave a slow nod, gaze distant.

  Yourupt: “Yes. After her death... my dark self took the blade. Ripped it from her fading hands after striking her down. It vanished into the storm—sealed within one of the most powerful cosmic maelstroms ever created. A storm conjured by the creator himself.”

  He turned the blade slightly, lightning arcing faintly down its edge.

  Yourupt: “Only lightning users like Selene could fully channel its power. That’s what makes Zhor'Raik'Vorr so dangerous. It doesn’t just cut. It strikes—with the fury of the storm sealed inside it.”

  The crackle of energy pulsed like a heartbeat, quiet but loaded with memory and violence.

  Yourupt stopped his questioning and leaned forward, his gaze sharp.

  Yourupt: “So, what’s this deal you’re proposing?”

  Ryouji’s expression hardened, a flicker of resolve crossing his face.

  Ryuji: “I need your help. The politics between the royal families have gotten even messier than usual. They've always been willing to throw money around for a kill or a capture, but with all the recent chaos... business has slowed down. Dark Yourupt’s actions have forced the families to shift their focus, pulling resources to deal with him. Now, there’s barely any work for people like me.”

  Yourupt’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  Yourupt: “Dark Yourupt... You mean my shadow self?”

  Ryuji: “Who else,” Ryuji said, his voice a low growl. “That bastard’s actions have caused so much bloodshed, the royals are scrambling to protect their own. They’re gathering their own forces, and it’s cut off a lot of my operations. I had men, top men, who were wiped out because of that bastard, and now the royals aren’t paying for jobs like they used to.”

  Yourupt: “And you’re looking for a way to keep things running?”

  Ryuji nodded.

  Ryouji: “I’m making deals with other organizations now. That’s where you come in. I need someone with your… connections, your influence. I can’t take on the big players alone. If you help me, I’ll get access to the kind of jobs and resources I need to get back in the game. There’s a lot of potential here for both of us.”

  Yourupt’s fingers drummed on the table as he considered it.

  Ryuji: “I need one more thing,” Ryuji said, his tone firm now. “I’ll take the rest of this deal—but only if you personally help me with something.”

  Yourupt raised a brow.

  Yourupt: “What kind of something?”

  Ryuji: “A special quest. Not now, but when I call for you, you come. No excuses, no delays. Just you will be handling it.”

  Yourupt held his gaze for a moment, then gave a slow nod.

  Yourupt: “Alright. When you call, I’ll be there.”

  Ryuji leaned back, satisfied.

  Ryuji: “Then we’ve got a deal.”

  Yourupt leaned forward.

  Yourupt: “So here’s the whole deal. The maids will help rebuild your organization—but only through training. Combat, mana training, magic training, stealth, warfare tactics. That’s what they’ll offer and now with my personal assistance.”

  Ryouji narrowed his eyes.

  Ryuji: “And in return?”

  Yourupt: “You give us all intel on the rifts. Anything related—sightings, energy shifts, activity. And if it ever comes to war with the royal families…me

  and the maids will help and that goes both ways.”

  Ryuji was quiet for a second, then gave a slow nod.

  Ryuji: “Alright. Deal. Just make sure your maids take this seriously.”

  Yourupt: “They will,” Yourupt said. “They know.”

  Ryouji leaned back, his eyes distant as memories drifted through his mind.

  The conversation shifted as Yourupt leaned back in his seat, his mind turning over everything they had discussed. He didn’t like how things were

  unfolding in the Unknown. The social, military, and economic structures were cracking—alliances shifting, long-standing grudges buried for the sake of a common enemy.

  The royal realms, once at each other’s throats, had stopped fighting amongst themselves. Now they were united under a single goal: kill Dark Yourupt—him—and wipe out any other organizations that were getting in their way. That included the bounty hunters, who were barely holding together.

  And it was exactly why Ryouji had started working with the maids in secret. With most of his top men dead and contracts drying up, he needed support—combat training, intel on the rifts, magical support, and maybe most importantly, backup in case war did come. And it would come, if one of the royals or anyone from those realms tried to assassinate Yourupt during the trial.

  Lady Chihaya wasn’t just holding the trial to find answers. She was holding it so no one made the first move and triggered open war with the maids

  while looking into the rifts which might be related to Dark Yourupt.

  Yourupt’s gaze hardened as he looked out the window. The pressure was everywhere now—political, magical, existential.

  Ryuji: “I’d advise you to be careful,” he said at last, his tone low and serious. “In the Unknown, power is fleeting. One day you’re at the top, the next—you’re a memory on a gravestone.”

  Ryouji didn’t flinch.

  Ryuji: “That’s why I’m making deals. The old ways? They’re done. I need to adapt. If I want to survive this, I need allies who can actually make a difference. And if you’re still as dangerous as I remember, I want you in my corner.”

  Yourupt tilted his head, considering the words. Everything Ryouji said made sense—but it didn’t make him any more comfortable.

  Yourupt: “You’re right about one thing,” he finally said. “The Unknown is changing. And I think it’s about to get a lot more… interesting.”

  Yourupt rose from his chair in silence, the weight of authority returning to his posture. With a lazy flick of his fingers, the grand obsidian table between

  them unraveled into shadow, fading like it had never been there. The two healer Shadowborns at his side bowed wordlessly and dissolved into the

  swirling mass of darkness gathering at his back.

  As he stepped forward, Jay leaned slightly toward Ryouji.

  Ryuji: “That’s it? He’s just walking away?”

  Jay’s eyes stayed fixed on Yourupt.

  Jay: “Something’s coming,” he murmured.

  Yourupt paused mid-step, back still turned to them.

  Yourupt: “Thanks for the concern,” he said, his voice quiet, cool, unshaken, “but I’m strong enough to handle myself.”

  The ground trembled faintly as shadows began to churn outward from his feet. Shapes emerged—first the terrifying silhouette of Kyorik, the Shifting Fang, splitting into countless mirrored forms of a wolf too fast to follow. Then came Drakaros, the Fallen Wrath, whose massive dragon form reared like a storm of wings and fire-breathing death, his many maws silent but seething with raw power. And finally, Vereia, the Healer’s Shade, floated beside them like death’s gentle whisper, runes glowing softly from her fingertips.

  Dozens of lesser shadows slithered in from every corner—sword-wielding wraiths, four-armed assassins, armored brutes with glowing sigils carved into their chests. Their silent presence made the air feel heavier, like the void itself had descended into the room.

  Jay stepped back, both eyes wide.

  Jay: “Maybe there is some truth... to those words.”

  But it wasn’t over.

  Another figure began to take shape beside the real Yourupt—a shadow-self, taller, cloaked in living night, the void itself seeming to ripple with its presence. Around it floated his legendary weapons, each humming with their own ancient might:

  The Twin Divine Wrath Daggers, pulsing with celestial fury made by Yourupt himself; The Obsidian Reavers, brutal cleavers forged from the heart of a dying realm who were welded by his old master; Death's Touch, a chain that shimmered with the essence of finality, each link carved from her regrets; Winter’s Bane, a cursed scythe that drew the warmth from the air, its edge forever coated in frost and forgotten pain from death itself.

  And in the hands of Yourupt himself, radiating a quiet but terrifying authority, was Zhor'Raik'Vorr—the dragon-slayer, the will-breaker, the weapon of a king long lost to legend. Shadows coiled around it like serpents answering a call older than creation given power from the cosmic storm created by the true writer himself.

  Yourupt looked ahead, then to the dark figure beside him, his tone deep and unwavering.

  Yourupt: “And with this new power… and discovering its many secrets,” he said, voice thrumming with emotion barely restrained, “I’ll be able to protect everyone—like they once did.”

  The shadow-self and all the weapons surrounding it pulsed once with raw power, then dissolved back into Yourupt in a sweep of shadow and flame. With that, he turned and stepped forward through the towering black doors. They groaned as they began to close behind him, casting the chamber into silence once more.

  The last thing left behind was a lingering pressure in the air—a weight of someone who was no longer bound by the laws of the world.

  Minutes later, Yourupt sat once again at the bar, swirling a glass of dark liquor between his fingers. The world outside moved slowly as the trial drew closer, but inside his mind, thoughts churned relentlessly.

  Then, without warning, the atmosphere shifted.

  The noise of the bar vanished in an instant. Every sound—the clink of glasses, the low hum of conversation, even the faint buzz of electricity—was swallowed by an unnatural stillness. Patrons froze where they stood, mid-sentence, mid-sip, trapped like statues.

  Yourupt tensed, his instincts sharpening.

  A presence was approaching. Heavy. Ancient. Wrong.

  From the far end of the room, a young woman with long, flowing white hair walked toward him. Her movements were unhurried, graceful, and yet somehow unnatural, like reality bent to allow her passage.

  Immediately, Yourupt tried to sense her mana, her aura—anything.

  Nothing.

  It was like reaching into a void. She had no presence, no signature, no life force that he could detect. She wasn’t masking her power—there was simply nothing there. And yet... the oppressive feeling that weighed on the room said otherwise.

  His gaze narrowed as he shifted slightly, ready for anything.

  Then, to his greater alarm, he felt her brush against his mind.

  It was subtle, but unmistakable—she was using a technique eerily similar to Whakarongo Mana, reading the unseen currents of his thoughts, the flow of his instincts—effortlessly, as if it were breathing.

  The woman stopped in front of him, her face serene, her eyes holding a depth that made even Yourupt's own ancient soul feel strangely small.

  Unknown Woman: "Sit down," she said softly, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable command. "Have a drink with me."

  For a long moment, Yourupt stayed still, calculating, weighing his options. He didn't like it. He didn’t like it at all. But there was no doubt that resisting would accomplish nothing.

  He sighed and finally pulled out the chair beside him, dropping into it with the weight of a man resigned to his fate.

  Glancing at her sidelong, he muttered under his breath,

  Yourupt: "As if my day couldn't get any worse."

  The frozen bar remained silent around them as the unknown woman smiled faintly and sat across from him—waiting.