As Sorn’s vision cleared, he found himself in an unfamiliar place, a strange building with stone walls. Around him, the others were already gathered, each of them eyeing the scene with varying degrees of caution.

Before them sat an empty wagon made of oak. It was moist and covered in mold, and the wheels looked like they were about to fall out. Oden and Crystal hadn’t moved once, clearly still processing what had just happened.

However, Keilan was already moving. He darted towards the open door to look into the horizon beyond, scanning what was outside. Beyond the threshold, a long hill stretched out, sloping downward for many meters, the path disappearing into the distance.

Keilan turned back to face the others, his face full of urgency. “We’ve been teleported right in front of the Fortress gate! Get in the wagon, quickly! We need to move fast!”

Without another word, the others scrambled into the wagon, the noise of their hurried movements filling the silence. Despite Keilan’s insistence that he could handle it, Oden stepped forward, his expression grim, and he placed his hands on the wagon. With a grunt, he shoved it forward, the wheels creaking in protest. Then, without looking back, he hopped into the wagon himself, and they began to roll down the hill.

Silence stretched between the four of them, and they kept their eyes locked ahead. The snow below was thin as if it had been parted in perfect anticipation of their arrival.

Sorn’s mind was being weighed down by everything that had happened in the past weeks. What had felt like chaos at the time seemed insignificant now compared to the Tournament. He wondered what the others were thinking, but for him, there was no doubt: he was ready to leave this place behind.

Suddenly, a spear came flying toward them, cutting through the air at a speed. It passed just inches from them, a near miss, but it was no accident. As the weapon sailed by, Sorn saw the figure above them—Varian, floating high on a platform.

The Iron Stag’s expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on them with a calm that didn’t fit the tension of the moment. The spear he had thrown had already transformed—becoming an Elemental as it landed before them. Camilla of the First Division stood tall, her icy gaze fixed on them. She raised a spear of her own threateningly, and she smashed the moving wagon with a single strike. The sound of broken wood cracked in the air as the group was thrown into the open.

Varian’s gaze was focused on Keilan. “My boy—”

But Keilan cut him off. “I’M NOT HEARING ANYTHING FROM YOU!” he shouted. He thrust his hand forward, and the spear he threw shot toward Varian with all the frustration he had been harboring. He aimed the spear at his own supposed father.

With a single motion of his hand, Varian deflected the spear with ease, sending it sailing off to the side. But the calm that had marked his face faded. His eyes now held a darker anger.

He didn’t speak, but in his mind, the thought lingered—Is this your work, Lyra?

Varian sighed, as he raised his hand. In an instant, one hundred spears materialized around him.

"If that’s the case," he muttered, "then fall to the rain."

At his words, the spears fell, a deadly cascade aimed directly at the small group below.

"Crystal!" Keilan called out urgently.

“I know!” Crystal responded, her ice bow already in hand. Without missing a beat, she fired multiple arrows, each one streaking toward the spears. But it was clear the task wasn’t going to be easy. Five of her arrows barely destroyed one spear. She gritted her teeth, shooting faster, more arrows following the first in rapid succession.

Keilan slammed his hands against the ground. Three sleek ice wolves materialized in the air. They howled as one, and their voices tore through the spears that Crystal couldn’t reach.

Varian watched, his gaze impassive as his attack was met with resistance. He had no idea what Carmilla was doing behind the shattered remains of the wagon, but it hardly mattered now.

He raised his hand once again, and this time, a single spear began to form above him, larger than anything they had seen so far.

To call it "giant" would have been a brutal understatement. The weapon’s shadow stretched over them like a looming storm. Its size was beyond comprehension as if the Gods had summoned down the weapon themselves. And as it fell upon the group, the chilling certainty of their impending death settled in.

"You have left me no choice," Varian said softly. “Let’s see if you can survive the Ultimate Spear.”

The group exchanged frantic glances, their eyes wide with fear, but none of them spoke. They all knew what was coming, and in that moment, they all knew there was nothing they could do to stop it.

Then, a voice rang out.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Wow, Varian! You still got it!”

A figure shot past them, leaping right into the path of the colossal spear. With a single punch, he destroyed it entirely, and the spear vanished into nothingness as if it had been canceled.

The strange man landed gracefully. He whistled, facing Varian with an amused expression. However, the arm he had used to strike was completely gone, severed at the shoulder.

“Man, I had to sacrifice my whole arm to block that behemoth!” the strange figure exclaimed, shaking his head.

Varian, who had been standing motionless, staring at the figure in disbelief, finally found his voice. “Y—you’re…” He stammered, struggling to process the sudden turn of events.

Before he could finish, Oden had already recognized his old trainer. “He’s from Draco’s group. The ex-Marauder. Aaron.”

“Crysssstal and Keilan. It hasss been a while,” a shifty voice hissed from behind them.

Keilan spun around, already recognizing the tone. “Daryun?” he asked warily.

Daryun stepped forward, a thin needle in his hand. Its sharp point was still dripping with blood. The weapon had been forced through Camilla’s heart, and though his eyes were wide, there was no trace of emotion on his face. There was only an unsettling, uncomfortable stare.

Daryun was a Dancing Blade of notorious skill. He was the man who had pioneered the legendary Serpent Dance and was also its only practitioner. Like Aaron, he had run away as a member of Draco’s group.

There was a hole in the snow, behind Daryun, and he gestured toward it with a casual flick of his hand.

“Do not asssssk quessstions,” he said in a low whisper. “There will be people waiting for you.”

Before anyone could respond, a voice came from behind.

“They will be going nowhere.”

The head of the Spears appeared behind them, his presence menacing.

But just as quickly, a pair of arms shot forward, grabbing Varian from behind.

“Don’t underestimate me, big man!” Aaron yelled, his voice hoarse, blood dripping down his face. Despite the grim state of him, he was still carefree as he scratched at Varian’s face— his body now entirely covered with ice.

Keilan acted quickly, grabbing Crystal by the arm and pulling her toward the hole. He nodded at Sorn and Oden.

“Let’s go!”

Without another word, the group dove into a hole once again, disappearing into the darkness.

----------------------------------------

Freyja stood on the porch of her stronghold, biting her lip as many rows of the Dancing Blade stood silently before her. Outside these walls were many Spears, and some First Division members. Cedric should have accomplished his plan long ago. The fact he had taken this long to proceed with the next step meant that he had failed.

She looked at Kyren standing behind her. “What should we do now?”

They had both observed the strangeness happening but had agreed to wait patiently and trust in their partner. It seemed that the trust had gone unfounded.

Then, suddenly, a spear shot above the heads of the Dancing Blade, and Kyren drew out a mirror of ice with his needle, causing the spear to reflect the other way.

The unfortunate Spear was killed by his own weapon. Kyren bowed in apology, then stood back up.

A flash of blue then suddenly came from beside them, and they both turned to see the Spear’s Failure. The odd blue substance emitting him was something Freyja had only seen a few times in her life— during particularly heavy storms. She couldn’t remember the term for it.

The boy also held some strange baskets of ice.

“I was sent by the tattooed man,” Kaen said simply.

Freyja looked at Kyren, who nodded back at her. She took a deep breath.

“They’re unconscious in the first room behind—”

“Mother?”

Toren was standing next to Aira as they both gave blank stares. Suddenly, Freyja lost her composure, and a tear went down her face as she looked at her little boy. Kyren was also crying— probably from seeing his wife cry.

“There’s so, so many things I regret,” she said, letting the words pour out. “I should’ve spent more time with you, I could’ve been more loving and caring. But remember, Toren. You’ll always be my baby boy. So go out and grow up to be a stronger man. And I’ll be here waiting for you. Promise me— promise me that you’ll try to become someone amazing.”

“Wait, slow down,” Toren said, clearly flustered. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

He looked at his mother’s eyes for another second.

“I promise,” he said simply.

Freyja gave her son a tight squeeze before turning to Aira. The deaf girl was also crying, as she had come to understand the situation.

“Please Aira,” Freyja said to her, “I know Toren can be misguided at times, but keep an eye out for him. Make sure he never does anything wrong— and if he ever slips, it’s your job to pick him back up. Can you do that for me?”

Aira smiled as she rubbed away her tears with her forearm. Then, she gave a single nod.

She also gave Aira a big embrace. Kyren, who was normally finding a way to lighten the environment around him was now looking at his son with a flat stare.

“Do good, little man.”

Toren frowned, “You know I hate that nickname. It lacks respect, besides, I still don’t understand—”

As he began to rant, Freyja turned towards Kaen, who had found great interest in fiddling with the basket underneath him.

“Watch out for them all, alright?”

“Of course,” Kaen replied.

Then, he suddenly threw the basket over Toren’s head, and in the same motion, he spun and did the same to Aira. Kyren put a hand on his crying wife’s back and nodded at Kaen, who nodded back. Then, in a flash of blue, he disappeared.

----------------------------------------

Some hours later.

Kaen moved steadily toward the massive boulder. He was flanked by Aira, Aria, and Toren.

Kaen stopped after a few paces, looking at Toren. “Is this the place?”

Toren nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

Aria stepped forward confidently. “Let me do this,” she declared. Without waiting for anyone to respond, she aimed a powerful kick at the boulder. The force sent the rock tumbling off the edge of the island, falling into the clouds below.

“Well done,” Toren remarked dryly.

Aria didn’t even glance back at him. “I don’t want to hear it from you,” she shot back, turning her nose up in disdain before starting down the stairs.

The four of them descended, the path opening into a large, circular room. None of them, save Toren, had known such a place existed. The air in the room felt heavy, filled with strange symbols that glowed faintly and a pale blue light that pulsed with life. Around a large, round table, Sorn, Crystal, Oden, and Keilan were seated.

Oden looked up as they entered, his usual gentleness gone. He gestured towards the empty seats around the table.

"Sit down," he said. "We have much to discuss."