“Block the entrance!!” Garrick roared a command and immediately, there was a maddening explosion.
Boooooom!!
Lisette had taken it upon herself to fulfill Garrick’s request. She had simply manipulated the rocked formation of the earth, causing it to give in and allow the entrance perish.
The surviving Dunters stood outside the collapsed cave entrance, their breaths still heavy from the fight.
Blood, sweat, and exhaustion weighed down on them, yet none of them moved to rest. Their armor, scratched and dented from battle, still bore the lingering heat of the fight.
Behind them, the cave entrance was nothing but a pile of jagged rocks, dust still rising from where Lisette’s barrier spell had collapsed the passage. But despite sealing it, none of them felt safe.
The air was thick with unease.
Something about that cave, about the demons within it, wasn’t natural.
Garrick adjusted his grip on the communication crystal, his fingers tightening as if grounding himself. He lifted it to his mouth and spoke, his voice hoarse but steady.
“Relay center, we’ve secured the site. The cave is sealed—for now. But we need to discuss the next steps.”
Static crackled before Serah’s voice cut through. “Understood. Report.”
Lisette, standing beside Garrick, wiped a streak of blood from her cheek. “The cave was exactly as the first team’s sudden disappearance theory suggested—wrong. The air was foul. The walls felt… unnatural. It wasn’t just a demon nest. It felt alive.”
Varian let out a breath, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair. “We found the bloodstains. But no bodies. No remains. Nothing. Just blood. The demons within the cave had devoured them completely as they did to our teammates.”
Silence from the other end.
Then Serah spoke again, her tone edged with concern. “Any theories?”
Lisette hesitated before answering. “We have one idea—destroy the entire site.”
Another pause. “You’re suggesting an orbital bombardment?”
“Or at the very least, high-level explosive magic,” Lisette said, nodding. “If we unleash enough destructive force, we might be able to erase everything within.”
Varian crossed his arms, his gaze locked on the collapsed entrance. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? Might. We don’t know if these demons are confined to this cave or if they’ve spread deeper underground. If we destroy the surface structure but fail to eliminate all of them, we could be making things worse.”
Garrick exhaled sharply. “And if we don’t act, this happens again. Another team goes missing. More lives are lost. We can’t afford hesitation.”
Serah sighed through the crystal. “We need more information before making a decision. Return to base immediately. We’ll gather all available intelligence and discuss our options.”
“Understood.”
But first—
“We hold a burial,” Garrick said. “We don’t leave them behind without honoring them.”
The others nodded.
The Dunters moved with quiet efficiency, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Even in this cursed land, respect for the dead was never neglected.
They gathered what little was left of their fallen comrades—only weapons and insignias, the last traces of those who had fought beside them. Their bodies were lost, erased as if they had never existed.
A makeshift grave was easily dug into the earth by Lisette’s magic. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Lisette murmured a quiet prayer, her fingers tracing glowing runes in the air. The symbols shimmered before sinking into the grave, forming protective wards over the site.
One by one, the Dunters stepped forward to offer their final words.
“We’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again,” Garrick said, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “We swear it.”
When the ceremony was done, the surviving Dunters stood in silence for a moment longer.
Then Garrick turned to the path home. “This place will remain sealed for a while. It’s time to return to base.”
Their work here was done.
~~~~~
The Regulator was silent.
Inside, the dimly lit corridors were lined with reinforced stone walls, the air heavy with the faint scent of burning oil from the torches. Everyone was supposed to be asleep.
But Damon wasn’t.
He lay in his makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
He was exhausted, his muscles sore from training and especially the beating he’d received from Miss Leana, but he couldn’t rest. Something inside him refused to settle.
Frustration gnawed at his chest, an unbearable pressure that made his skin crawl. He needed to move.
Without a sound, he slipped out of bed, grabbed his sword, and made his way outside.
The moment he stepped outside, the hot air of the First Layer of Hell wrapped around him but he didn’t mind.
With the Cooling Technique Miss Leana had taught them, it was easy to disperse the heat by circulating his magic essence in a certain manner.
The sky was a dark, unnatural red, streaked with black clouds that pulsed faintly as though alive. It was night, but darkness in this land never meant peace.
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Damon exhaled.
The Bloodied Sky Transformation was nearing completion.
The omen of war.
A celestial event that marked the beginning of another great war between forces that had battled for centuries. Soon, the world would be thrown into chaos once more.
And Damon knew very well that he or the others weren’t ready.
Not yet.
He moved to the training ground just outside the Regulator, gripping his sword tightly. He closed his eyes, centering himself before focusing on his Essence Circulation Technique.
Slowly, he inhaled, feeling the energy within his body stir. He guided it, forcing it to move with precision, directing it toward his limbs, his core, his blade.
The Essence within him burned like a barely contained wildfire, restless and eager for release.
But control was key.
He tightened his grip on his sword and began his drills.
Swing. Step. Pivot. Slash.
Each movement was deliberate, guided by years of training and discipline as well as the guidance of predecessors in the form of an ancient tome.
The technique was written in the tome he had been studying, an ancient manual containing the refined sword movements of long-dead masters which he’d received from his father as a gift. Every step, every strike, every breath was a lesson passed down through generations.
But technique alone wasn’t enough.
He needed to be stronger.
The pressure on his shoulders was suffocating.
He needed to grow stronger—not just for himself, but for Seth, his younger brother.
Seth, who still bore the family name. If things went wrong, if the family turned on him the way they had turned on Damien…
Damon clenched his jaw. “I definitely can’t let that happen.”
And then there was Damien—his twin. His older brother. The one who had been exiled to a place where very few ventured and even fewer returned from. The Forest of Twin Disasters.
His hands tightened on his sword hilt.
He needed to graduate with impeccable results.
He needed to face his father one day and punish him for such a vile act.
And most of all—he needed to take his place as the rightful Family Lord once he dealt with his father.
Failure was not an option.
Sleep was not an option.
Not for him at least.
Damon paused, lowering his sword, his breathing heavy.
His gaze lifted toward the dark sky, and his eyes locked onto a familiar sight. ‘The Twin Stars.’
Two bright celestial bodies, glowing faintly above. One slightly brighter than the other.
His chest tightened.
A memory surfaced—one that had kept him going all these years.
A night long ago.
Damon and Damien, sitting on the ground after an exhausting training session. Their uncle, Osbourne, sat nearby, watching over them with quiet amusement.
And above them, the Twin Stars shone for the first time.
“Promise me,” Damon had said that night, his voice quiet but firm. “We do not separate. No matter what happens.”
Damien had turned to him, expression unreadable.
“If we die, we die together,” Damon had continued. “No matter what.”
“So be it. If we die, we do it together or else, we do not die!” Damien had responded with a challenging smirk.
The stars had glowed unnaturally that night, as if they had been listening.
And now, years later, that promise was the only thing keeping Damon from breaking apart.
Damien wasn’t dead.
He refused to believe it.
He wouldn’t believe it.
Damon exhaled, his breath steady despite the storm in his heart.
He pulled his sword free from its sheath once more.
Shiiiing…
The blade rang in the hands of its owner. His father had commissioned a weapon for him and soon enough, it would be ready for use. Only then would he be able to fully utilize his talent to the fullest as the weapon was made specifically for him.
The night was long, and he had a war to prepare for.
Under the unblinking gaze of the Twin Stars, his blade moved once more.
It sliced through the air without a single sound and Damon moved again.
And again. And again.
He thought back to the essence core he’d received from Miss Leana as a reward and a small smile crept onto his face.
He would grow strong and he would start by absorbing the essence core’s energy. “Can’t stay weak for long, can I?” Damon asked himself as he swings blade again.