The Phantom Creed became a name known across the world barely a month after Akira and the other Grandmasters departed.
Under Micheal's leadership, the Creed was divided into six factions, mirroring the old structure of the Grandmasters. Before leaving, Akira had established a single absolute rule, one that overrode rank, age, and strength alike.
"Everyone must obey the Primarch's orders."
Because every member of the Creed had been personally hand-picked by Akira himself, that rule held firm, even with Micheal being the youngest among them. His word carried Akira's shadow, and that was more than enough.
Each day, a different faction was sent on rift raids to sustain the Creed. Fifty members remained behind at all times, guarding the house and Axel's unmoving body, while the rest hunted beasts, trading their drops to the guild for resources and coin. The rotation was efficient. Lossless. Precise.
In time, the Phantom Creed earned a terrifying reputation. They cleared rifts without casualties. They protected Axel without exception.
Peace held. Until it didn't.
On an otherwise quiet day, three rifts tore open directly in front of the house.
The surge of aether that erupted from them crushed the air itself. It was so dense, so familiar, that only the hunters who had survived the First Beast War felt the truth immediately.
This wasn't normal.
Among the six factions Micheal had formed, five were led by the most experienced Resonants, Masters who had fought in the first war. Veterans. Elites only a step below Grandmasters. Micheal commanded the sixth himself.
But none of their past battles prepared them for what stepped out of the rifts.
Three humanoid beasts emerged, their forms eerily similar to the one that had nearly killed Axel and Micheal in the cavern. Shadowy cloaks draped over their bodies, obscuring details that felt deliberately hidden.
Unlike ordinary beasts, they didn't charge.
They simply stood there, calm, watching Micheal and the gathered Creed as if time itself bent around them.
"We've come for a power that does not belong in this world," one of the beasts said, its voice disturbingly composed.
"We possess no such thing," Micheal replied without hesitation.
"You believe so?"
In the blink of an eye, the speaking beast vanished.
It reappeared directly behind Micheal.
The Creed tensed.
Micheal didn't.
To him, the beast's movement wasn't overwhelming. It wasn't terrifying. It was slow, like a man walking through deep water. Still, he didn't react. He didn't need to.
Before the creature's fingers could touch the door handle behind Micheal—
Its hand was severed.
Shiiing.
The crisp sound of a katana sliding back into its sheath echoed through the air.
One of the elite Masters stood beside the beast, already walking away, as if what he'd just cut apart had never posed a threat.
"It would be wise," he said calmly, "not to touch that handle."
The beast stared at the stump where its hand had been. Then, almost lazily, shadows surged, flesh knitting back together until its arm was whole once more. It clenched its fist several times, testing it.
"So be it," the beast said after a pause. "We'll withdraw today."
Its gaze shifted back to Micheal, sharp and knowing.
"But remember this. That victory you're holding onto? It will be your last."
The three beasts turned and walked back toward the rifts, unhurried, unafraid.
They knew.
Just like the beast that had fled from Akira long ago, they understood exactly when they were outmatched.
As the rifts began to seal, the lead beast spoke one final time, its voice slipping through the closing void.
"It would have been better… if you had allowed us entry."
The rifts closed.
Silence returned.
And the Phantom Creed remained standing.
""Don't drop your guard," Micheal said as he turned away. "They'll return with allies strong enough to match us."
"Yes, Primarch," the Creed answered in unison as he walked off.
They didn't have to wait long.
A few days later, ten rifts tore open in front of the house once more.
This time, the Phantom Creed was ready.
But the moment the rifts stabilized, everyone felt it.
The pressure was suffocating.
It was far denser than before, pressing down on the air itself, crushing the lungs of anyone below Platinum rank. Some members stiffened, others grit their teeth, forcing their aether to circulate just to stay standing.
Micheal stepped forward, eyes cold and steady.
"You came sooner than expected."
The lead beast emerged from the central rift, its presence alone warping the space around it. Unlike the previous ones, it didn't pause or observe. It advanced immediately, closing the distance between itself and the house.
"I am nothing like the dead colleagues who arrived here days ago," it said calmly.
Then it attacked.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Steel screamed as Micheal's blade collided with metallic claws. The remaining beasts surged forward, crashing into the Creed's defensive line. Each creature faced five Creed members at once, but even then, the fight was brutal, the air fractured by aether and impact.
Micheal exhaled once.
"Body Enhancement. First Phase.
Featherweight."
The world seemed to tilt.
In the next instant, he vanished.
Before the beast in front of him could even register movement, Micheal was already there, his blade halfway through the arc that would take its head. The creature reacted on instinct alone, hurling itself backward.
Too late.
Its feet never touched the ground.
The beast crashed down with a heavy thud, the force shattering the stone beneath it. Micheal didn't hesitate. His sword flashed, severing its head in a clean, brutal stroke. He followed with multiple precise thrusts, his blade glowing as reinforced aether tore through the body, denying any chance of regeneration.
The corpse went still.
The first kill belonged to the Creed.
Around him, the battle raged on. The Phantom Creed held the line, blades flashing, formations tightening as they pushed back against the beasts.
And this time, they weren't just defending.
They were hunting.
Although the beasts were undeniably stronger, their advantage ended there.
The Phantom Creed moved as one.
Every strike was deliberate. Every formation shift arrived a heartbeat before it was needed. Members rotated seamlessly, covering openings, baiting attacks, and collapsing on each beast with merciless precision. Strength meant little when every move was anticipated and countered.
One by one, the beasts fell.
There was no escape. No retreat. No survivor left to crawl back through a rift and report what had happened.
When the last body hit the ground and the air finally eased, the truth was clear.
The Phantom Creed wasn't just strong.
They were disciplined.
The Creed members regrouped without being told, weapons still humming faintly with fading aether. One of them spoke softly, not as a shout nor a boast, but as a confirmation.
"Shadows stand."
The response came immediately, unified, carried on steady breaths and bloodied resolve.
"The world stays silent."
Only then did they lower their weapons. No celebration followed, no cheers, no relief-filled laughter. The rifts were gone. The beasts were gone. And as always, no one remained to tell the tale.
"Gather the drops. I bet they'd be really expensive ones." Micheal said