Yodha and Leo walked through the streets of Paradise toward the exit gate. Yodha carried the black prison box in his hands. Neither spoke. Their hurried steps echoed off the stone path.
Leo's mind churned. If Father finds out… The thought looped endlessly, each repetition tightening the knot in his stomach. Guilt clawed at him—guilt for every choice that led to this moment, for trusting Yodha when every instinct screamed to turn back, for the blood already on his hands from years ago. Fear coiled tighter with every step. Regret burned in his throat.
I should have stopped this. I should have listened to Father. I should have…
They passed the massive wooden gates of Paradise and stepped into the open.
Inside the Spirit Fort, the air grew thick with heat and dread. Warriors of various races and spirit generals knelt in rows. At the head of the hall sat Chaya—green eyes sharp as venom, pale skin glowing faintly under her light green kimono. Her left index finger rested against her lips. Her gaze swept over the kneeling figures with open disgust.
"I ordered you fools to kill every last one of Arya Roy's underlings," she said, voice low and cutting. "Six years. Not one success. Is this some sick joke? You call yourselves my greatest warriors—my servants—and yet none of you could even locate six weaklings?"
Silence. Trembling shoulders. No one dared meet her eyes.
One general gathered enough courage to step forward. Before he could speak, Chaya's lips curled into an evil smile. Confusion rippled through the hall.
At that exact moment, outside Paradise, Chaya felt it—the faint, unmistakable leak of aura from the prison box.
Her smile widened. "Listen well, fools. I'm giving you one more chance. The prison holding Arya has appeared beyond Paradise. Someone thinks they can release him now that my power has returned. Go. Stop it. And this time, his little Shadowsworn will surely appear to protect him."
She leaned forward, voice dropping to a hiss. "Fail again… and I will rip your heads from your necks myself."
A general rose, arrogance masking his fear. "I will stop Arya's return single-handedly and slaughter his followers."
He took six hundred beasts with him.
Meanwhile, in the vast, empty stretch of land known as the Pre-Desert, Yodha and Leo stood ready. Yodha set the prison box on the cracked earth.
A long shadow fell across them.
Leo looked up. A seven-foot figure approached—blue eyes burning, horns curving from either side of its head. Leo swallowed hard and shifted into a fighting stance, fire flickering along his arms.
Yodha raised a hand to stop him. A knowing smile curved his lips.
"Yoo. Been a while… Naoto."
The figure stepped closer, revealing Naoto—one of Arya's Shadowsworn. His blue eyes narrowed with familiar arrogance.
"Huh? Been a while? Don't give me that shit, Yodha. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were long dead."
Before Yodha could answer, a fist cracked across Naoto's face, sending him flying.
"You never change, do you?" Rikka said, lowering her green robe. Behind her stood Yuta—eight feet tall, soft polite smile on his face. Lightning struck the ground beside them, revealing Jojo—the seven-foot white wolf with purple-blue lightning patterns rippling across his fur. He carried Maraya and Mai on his back.
Maraya jumped down first. Yodha's eyes softened when they met hers.
"Maraya… it's been a while."
She said nothing, but her gaze held quiet affection. Mai landed beside her, smaller but no less fierce.
Naoto picked himself up, rubbing his jaw, and rejoined the group. Yodha looked at all of them—his old comrades, the Shadowsworn—and smiled with genuine joy. Then he turned to Leo.
"So… everyone's here. Let's start the real deal."
Leo took a deep breath. His fingers shook as he channeled fire aura into the box.
The chains glowed red. Cracks spread across them like lightning.
Before the box could fully open, a spear sliced through the air, cutting the wind with deadly precision. Naoto reacted instantly—his double-edged sword flashed, striking the spear mid-flight and sending it spinning into the dirt.
In the distance, Jero—one of Chaya's generals—charged forward with terrifying speed. Behind him surged an army of six hundred beasts, their roars shaking the pre-desert ground.
Yodha glanced back, his smile sharpening. "Looks like they're late to the party."
Leo gripped his weapon tighter, fire flickering along his arms. The Shadowsworn spread out, ready.
Maraya surged ahead like a missile, her aura coiling into serpentine shadows. "Don't fall behind," she called. "Surround them. We're stronger—not in numbers, but in will. Take them down fast."
The two forces collided in a hair's-breadth clash—blades, fists, and roars meeting in chaos.
Then the prison box opened with a deafening bang.
An unimaginable dark aura erupted, shooting a thick pillar from earth to sky. With deliberate slowness, the heavens bled red—clouds burned away, the sun vanished, turning day into night. Thunder groaned like dying beasts. The ground trembled, unable to bear the pressure. Distant oceans roared in agony. Volcanoes along the horizon flared, ready to erupt.
Yodha and the Shadowsworn turned, knowing smiles on their faces.
Leo's breath caught. His heart slammed against his ribs.
Gods… what have we done?
Fear flooded him—cold, choking, suffocating. Guilt followed, sharp as a blade: guilt for every step that led here, for ignoring his father's warnings, for opening this box when he knew what slept inside. Regret burned in his throat, bitter and heavy.
I should have stopped this. I should have walked away. I should have…
The beast army and Jero froze mid-charge, stunned into silence, staring at the dark spectacle.
Slowly—two crimson eyes opened in the heart of the swirling blackness.
The aura began to thin, fading with agonizing patience… revealing glimpses: a six-foot figure cloaked entirely in black, loose sleeves dancing in the wind, pale white fingers peeking out like moonlight on obsidian. A red mask with horns curving from its forehead covered the face completely.
The beasts' legs buckled. Their eyes filled with primal terror.
Jero screamed an order to strike—but Chaya's warning echoed in his skull: Return once he stirs.
Gritting his teeth, he barked a retreat. The army fled, tails between their legs.
The figure stepped fully onto the cracked earth.
Naoto, Maraya, Mai, Rikka, Yuta, and Jojo dropped to one knee in perfect unison—the Shadowsworn paying homage.
Leo's gaze darted everywhere except the newcomer. His hands shook harder now, fire flickering weakly.
He's here. He's really here.
Fear. Guilt. Regret. They crashed over him like a wave, drowning out everything else.
Yodha simply smiled wider.
"Finally," Yodha said, voice low and proud. "The time has come, my friend."
Arya.