The clash was still ringing in the air when the ground trembled beneath their boots.
Ling Han's next strike never landed—because the frozen earth split open between him and Lan Xiyue. From the jagged rift, a surge of black miasma poured upward, curling like smoke but heavy as water. The snow turned to ash wherever it touched.
Ruo Han's breath caught.
"Soul devourer…"
The miasma coalesced into a hulking beast—skinless, eyes burning red from within a skull-like face. Its claws dripped shadow. When it roared, the sound carried a thousand whispering voices, each promising ruin.
Xiyue didn't hesitate. He lunged past Ling Han—only for Ling Han to block his path, sword crossing in front of him.
Ling Han: "It's drawn to Omega scent. Keep him behind us."
Xiyue: "You think I need your advice?"
The beast lunged.
Instinct took over. Without a word, the two Alphas moved as one—Xiyue driving forward in heavy, punishing arcs while Ling Han slid in low, cutting tendons with surgical precision. Their blades wove together in a deadly pattern, covering each other's blind spots without ever meeting eyes.
Behind them, Ruo Han's heart pounded as he watched the impossible happen—two enemies moving with the ease of long-trained partners. Each time one was nearly struck, the other was already there, parrying, redirecting, pushing them both back into the fight.
The beast's howl shattered the treeline. The air itself seemed to darken.
And then—just as Xiyue drove his sword through its side and Ling Han severed its claw—it dissolved into black mist, sucked back into the rift. The ground sealed shut with a sound like breaking bones.
Snow began to fall again.
Both men stood panting, blades dripping with dark ichor. Neither looked at the other—yet their shoulders almost touched.
Ruo Han: "…You didn't kill each other."
Ling Han, smirking faintly: "Not yet."
Xiyue, voice low: "Stay close to me, Ruo Han."
It wasn't clear if he meant close now or close forever.