The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint hiss of the lantern's dying flame.
The prince felt the being's words coil through his mind like smoke — sweet, suffocating, inescapable.
"Join me," Kolpa said at last, voice low and persuasive. "Join us. My masters have watched you long before the first whisper of rebellion touched your lips. They see what you could become… what this world truly needs."
The prince stiffened. "Your masters?" His voice cracked, disbelief cutting through exhaustion. "You mean him. The one who bends nations to their knees — the tyrant choking the world."
A flicker crossed the being's face — amusement, perhaps pride.
"Names. Titles… convenient words mortals give to power they fear," he replied smoothly. "He is no tyrant, my prince. He is order. He is balance. The hand that punishes chaos."
The prince shook his head. "He burns cities to prove that balance."
"And your father does not?" Kolpa countered without hesitation. "Do you believe the throne you bled for is clean? Your father cloaks himself in justice while rivers of blood run at his command. My master, at least, does not pretend to be anything else."
The words struck like a blade sliding between armor plates, cutting through the fragile righteousness the prince had wrapped around himself. He wanted to argue — to scream that cruelty justified by ambition was not the same — but the strength would not come. The certainty he once clung to felt thin. Brittle.
"You've seen what loyalty has earned you," Kolpa continued, voice soft as velvet over steel. "Betrayal. Death. The weight of your mother's blood on your hands. You tried to save this realm… yet it does not deserve saving. Not like this."
The prince lowered his gaze. His hands trembled faintly, phantom warmth staining his palms.
"And if I refuse?" he asked quietly.
The being smiled.
Slow.
Knowing.
A smile that promised ruin and redemption in equal measure.
"Then you will keep running," he said. "Until your father's men drag you back in chains. You will die with a broken name… and a purpose squandered."
The lantern flame flickered once more.
And for a moment, the darkness seemed to lean closer.
Silence again.
Then a sigh — heavy, hollow. Defeated.
The prince's voice barely survived the distance between them.
"And if I join him?"
Kolpa did not hesitate.
"Then you will rise."
Simple. Certain.
"Stronger than any crown. Freer than any mortal king who must answer to law, to blood, to legacy. My master rewards loyalty…" A faint curve touched his lips. "And he never forgets those who choose him."
The words settled into the room like dust upon a grave.
The prince's heart thundered in his chest. He saw his father's fury — cold and absolute. He saw his mother's lifeless eyes, wide with a betrayal she never expected. He saw flames devouring banners, futures, innocence.
He had once believed he could change the kingdom.
Now he understood something far simpler.
It had already changed him.
In that moment, he stopped asking what was right.
He asked only what remained.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze and met Kolpa's eyes — not with hope, not with conviction… but with exhaustion sharpened into resolve.
"…Then I will join you."
The air shifted.
A slow smile unfurled across Kolpa's face — dark, triumphant, patient as winter.
"Wise," he murmured.
He extended his hand.
Long, pale fingers — smooth and cold as carved marble — waiting.
"Come, my prince. The world you knew has already burned away. Let me take you to the one who will teach you what it truly means to rule."
The lantern flame flickered once.
Then steadied.
As if even the light had chosen a side.
⸻
— Within the Darkburn Canopy —
The first howl split the air.
Not wolf.
Not beast.
Something warped by soul energy — layered, distorted, almost harmonic.
Then they emerged.
Four-legged creatures with elongated limbs and bark-like plating fused into their flesh. Veins of faint blue light pulsed beneath cracked skin. Their eyes glowed — not with hunger, but with agitation.
They did not move alone.
They moved in packs.
Jericho stepped forward first.
"be careful everyone, here they come." he said calmly.
The creatures lunged.
Jericho raised his hand, silver liquid spilling from his palm like living metal.
"Soul Casting… Silver Barrage."
The mercury surged forward in a storm of razor-sharp droplets — compressing, hardening mid-flight. The barrage tore through the front line, punching through bark-plated torsos and slamming several creatures into the trees behind them.
But they did not fall easily.
The ones behind vaulted over their collapsing packmates.
William moved next.
Soul energy ignited across his body — not outward, but inward. It threaded through muscle and bone, reinforcing him from within.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he launched forward.
No technique name.
Just impact.
He intercepted two mid-leap, grabbing one by the throat and slamming it into another. The force split bark plating and sent them tumbling. He pivoted, ducked claws that whistled past his face, and drove his fist into a creature's ribcage with bone-crushing precision.
Enhanced strength. Enhanced speed. Enhanced awareness.
He was a moving fortress.
Alice stepped through the chaos with measured grace.
Her blade flashed — clean, controlled arcs that severed limbs and drove creatures back. But even as they fell, they twitched, trying to rise again. The soul energy saturating them was reinforcing their bodies.
She narrowed her eyes.
"So it's like that…"
Her stance shifted.
"Soul Casting… Clement."
A pale, refined aura flowed along her blade — not violent, but purifying. When she struck again, the energy did not simply cut flesh.
It disrupted.
The glow within the creatures flickered violently where her blade touched, their movements destabilizing as if something vital had been severed at the core.
They fell — this time, still.
The pack hesitated.
Then the air changed.
Heat.
Erica stepped forward, ancient blade in hand.
The weapon Princess Clover had entrusted to her pulsed faintly — as if eager.
She had named it Surtr.
Soul energy coiled around her — molten at its edges.
For a fraction of a second, the temperature spiked dangerously high.
She exhaled slowly.
"I think inferno should be enough," she murmured.
She lifted the blade.
"Soul Casting… Hurricane Inferno."
Flames erupted — not as a wild explosion, but as a spiraling vortex. Controlled. Focused.
A storm of blazing arcs swept outward in a widening spiral, engulfing the charging creatures. Fire roared — hot enough to overwhelm their regenerative soul enhancements, yet contained enough not to ignite the forest canopy.
The bark-armored beasts shrieked as infernal winds tore through them, scattering ash and embers across the clearing.
When the flames died down, silence followed.
Smoke curled upward.
Charred remnants lay scattered across scorched earth.
Jericho scanned the tree line.
"Is it just me or are these creatures testing us."
The forest did not return to normal.
The hum of soul energy deepened.
Somewhere further within the canopy, something larger stirred.
Not pack-level.
Not instinct-driven.
Aware.
William exhaled slowly. "That was just the welcoming party."
Erica rested Surtr against her shoulder, eyes sharp.
"don't let your guard down," she said. "here they come."
The trees creaked.
And deeper in the forest…
Something began to move.
They pressed forward.
The deeper they went, the less the forest resembled anything natural.
The hum of soul energy thickened, vibrating through bone and marrow. The air felt heavier — almost liquid.
Then the second wave came.
Not packs.
Predators.
A bear lumbered from the undergrowth — but it was no longer a bear. Its frame had doubled, spine jagged with crystalline growths pulsing faint blue. Its eyes burned with feral intelligence.
Snakes slithered from the roots — thick as tree trunks, scales layered like armor, forked tongues sparking faint arcs of energy.
Above them, birds descended — wings elongated, feathers sharpened like blades, their cries shrill and distorted.
The forest had evolved.
Jericho's expression darkened.
"…This isn't random mutation," he muttered. "Something's accelerating them."
The pressure mounted instantly.
William barely deflected the bear's first strike — the impact sending shockwaves through the soil. Erica split a descending bird in half mid-air, flames flashing — but three more replaced it. Alice pivoted, blade singing as she severed a serpent's head — only for its body to thrash violently even in death.
They held their ground.
Barely.
Jericho's mercury lashed outward in controlled arcs, piercing skulls and binding limbs. William's enhanced body blurred between impacts. Erica's inferno flared in disciplined bursts.
Alice carved through what she could — precise, efficient.
But the creatures were adapting mid-fight.
Learning.
Then—
A shadow moved wrong.
Too fast.
Alice felt it before she saw it.
She turned—
Too late.
A massive avian beast descended from above, talons glowing with concentrated soul energy. Its wings folded inward like spears as it dove straight for her.
"ALICE!" Jericho roared.
Erica tried to break free from the bear pinning her. William lunged — but serpents coiled around his leg, dragging him down.
They could only watch.
Alice saw the talons seconds from her face.
Instinct overrode training.
She closed her eyes.
—
Silence.
No impact.
No pain.
Then she heard a voice saying… "Soul Cast, Osto Vrechei"
Then a sharp metallic sound rang out.
Alice's eyes fluttered open.
In front of her stood a hooded figure.
One hand extended.
The avian beast hung frozen mid-motion with bones pierced through the body — and its neck severed so cleanly its body hadn't yet realized it was dead.
A second later, it collapsed.
The hooded figure lowered his hands.
More creatures lunged.
He moved once.
Just once.
"Soul Casting…. Osto ballo."
A barrage of tiny bone flew out with unseeable speed.
And three of them fell in pieces before their bodies touched the ground.
Jericho stared — then a slow smile broke across his face.
"…What took you so long, Drako?"
The hooded figure turned slightly.
For a moment, the forest seemed to recoil from him.
He reached up and pulled back the hood.
Drako's sharp features emerged, eyes calm, unwavering.
He smiled.
"Forgive me… my king," he said smoothly. "It was a nuisance locating you in this cursed forest."
He stepped forward, a bony blade resting at his side as if the battlefield meant nothing.
"But I am here now."
His gaze flicked toward the shifting tree line — toward the deeper dark.
"And am here to serve."
Around them, the forest quieted.
Not in retreat.
In recognition.
Something had changed.