The next day, the team assembled in the meeting room, each figure carrying their own distinct energy. This time, Cyrus was included in the meeting, his expression set in a scowl as he folded his arms impatiently.
“What on earth were you thinking, getting into a fight yesterday? This mission is our priority!” Cyrus barked, his voice tinged with frustration.
“Cool it, frosty,” Lux chimed in, unfazed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Marriage is a big deal, you know? Besides, we wouldn’t have Ava here if Noah hadn't won. Chill out a little.”
Cyrus shot Lux a hard glare. “Spare me the ice puns. We have serious work to do here.” He sighed, moving past the banter. “Let’s discuss the plan. I have someone joining us today. That makes four of us for the mission to hunt down the Black Witch.”
“Only four?” Orist raised an eyebrow, incredulous. “That’s reckless, even by my standards. At the very least, you’d need a full party. And with your status, Cyrus, surely you could rally an army?”
Cyrus shook his head. “Yes, my position grants me that privilege. But the emperor keeps a close watch on my activities. A large-scale assault would draw his attention, and any attack on one of his lords could escalate quickly. We can’t afford that kind of risk.”
Noah leaned in, curious. “What do you mean by that, Cyrus? Who exactly are you?”
Cyrus’s gaze turned distant, a flicker of pride mingling with something deeper in his eyes. “I am one of the seven guardians of Sicillia. Our territories span half of Helheim, the only region that has not submitted to the emperor’s rule. Even when he rose to power after the death of the fourth apocalypse, we stood firm. My father refused to submit, and even when war was waged against us, even when the emperor branded him the ‘Seventh Apocalypse,’ we held our ground. Our independence came at a cost, but it remains intact. However, our relationship with the empire is… tenuous.”
“The Calamity War,” Lux murmured, his tone almost nostalgic, a strange smile flickering across his face. “Now that was a real mess. I almost thought Helheim would win, that man and his armies left scars across our lands.”
Cyrus’s jaw tightened, a flicker of remembered anger in his eyes. “We didn’t start that war. But regardless, a mission this sensitive would give the emperor reason to interfere, and if he wanted, start another. So this must stay between us. We take down the Black Witch quietly, with no outside attention.”
“That makes sense,” Orist acknowledged. “Even if her actions are questionable, she’s still a lord of Álfheimr. The emperor is bound to scrutinize any power shift here, especially since we’ll be the only remaining lords on this continent.”
“We’re at a crossroads,” Elder Novis added gravely. “Either we expand rapidly to fill the void, or he’ll send his people to repurpose the ruined territories. We may not have much time.”
Noah’s expression hardened, his resolve clear. “I refuse to let him take over my family’s land. It may be in ruins, but I intend to rebuild it. Once this mission is done, I’ll become the new lord of Fafnir territory.”
“That’s a noble aim, but don’t forget your duties as a hero,” Lux reminded him with a smirk. “I plan to push you harder than any hero before you, Noah. We’ll be traveling across continents, facing down every kind of challenge.”
“We’ll stand by your side, Noah,” Elder Novis assured him. “Our resources, and our strength, will be at your disposal for the rebuilding. We’ll keep it safe in your absence.”
Noah nodded gratefully. “Thank you. But before anything else, we need to focus on taking down the Black Witch. That’s our priority.”
Cyrus leaned forward, speaking with quiet confidence. “My ally will be arriving tomorrow. She’s also one of the Seven Guardians, skilled at defense. Her abilities make her ideal as our tank.”
“Perfect,” Lux nodded. “With her on our side, our party composition is strong. If it’s just the Black Witch, we should be able to handle this.”
Ava, however, wasn’t as certain. “Don’t forget, the Black Witch has connections with the Crows. There’s a chance we’ll face more than just her. If luck isn’t on our side, we might even encounter one of the Seven Wings.”
A tense silence followed her words. The Seven Wings, commanders of the Crows, were legendary for their ruthlessness and power. Each Wing, marked by one of the seven deadly sins, led a squad of deadly operatives, each a master in their own right. Even a chance encounter with one of them could turn a simple mission into a battle for survival.
Lux’s smirk deepened as he replied, “Which is why I said ‘if’—I highly doubt the Black Witch will be the only one we’ll be dealing with.”
Before anyone could respond, a sudden knock on the door broke the tension. The door creaked open, and a tall figure strode in, leaving a trail of unconscious guards slumped against the walls behind him.
The man’s presence was as unsettling as it was impressive. His hair, a dark blend of green and black, framed a sharp, bearded face and eyes that practically glowed with an eerie, emerald excitement. Twisted ram horns rose from his head, and a black cloak draped over his broad shoulders. He adjusted his glasses, giving a small smirk as he took in the room’s occupants.
“Ah, Adam,” Orist greeted, a hint of familiarity softening his tone. “Good to see you, old friend. Though, did you really have to knock out my guards?”
Adam Willow shrugged with a grin. “Not my fault they weren’t trained well enough. They didn’t stand a chance.” He gave a courteous bow. “For those who haven’t met me, the name’s Adam Willow. Former mercenary, now retired to spend time with my family. But I still keep my skills sharp.”
Orist gestured towards him. “Adam’s modest, but he’s a legend in his own right. He was instrumental in defending against the death dragon’s invasion.”
Noah’s eyes lit up with recognition. “The death dragon? My father was part of that raid as well! He often spoke of the ‘Black Knight’ who nearly took the dragon down. That’s you?”
Adam’s expression softened with a mixture of respect and sorrow. “Yes, Hector was a great man and a brave fighter. I’m sorry for your loss, Noah. I’ll gladly help his son fulfill his own heroic path.”
Orist nodded approvingly. “Adam will be your fifth member. His skill set is diverse enough to fill any role, and I can personally vouch for his abilities.”
Adam chuckled, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. “My power’s a bit hard to explain, but trust me, it’ll be useful. I’m also one of the few people who wields two regalias.” He looked at Noah with a smirk. “Guess that makes up for the fact that you haven’t found yours yet, huh?”
Noah tensed at the mention, but Lux leaned over and clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you. The stars have their own timing. Now that you’re the hero, they’ll definitely bless you with a regalia soon enough.”
Adam chuckled. “And with that regalia, kid, you’ll be unstoppable. Until then, you’ve got me.” He extended a hand to Noah. “So, what do you say, hero? Ready to hunt down this Black Witch and anyone else who dares to get in our way?”
Noah grinned, his confidence bolstered by Adam’s presence. “With the five of us, we can do this,” he said, giving Adam’s hand a firm shake.
Adam tilted his head, sensing a familiar energy in the air. “You have a familiar scent. One of your regalias, it’s Lancelot, isn’t it?” Lux asked, his gaze sharp and curious.
“You’re right,” Adam replied with a knowing smile. “Did you know a previous wielder?”
Lux’s eyes glinted with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. “I did. The first hero I trained wielded Lancelot. It’s a powerful regalia, especially in the hands of someone who can match its intensity. His style was ruthless, a true force of nature. I look forward to seeing what you can do.”
Adam chuckled, turning his gaze to Orist. “Speaking of ruthless styles… it’s been a while since we’ve fought. What do you say? Care for a quick round?”
Orist shook his head with a smirk, though there was a glint of fatigue in his eyes. “I know better than to pick a fight with you, Adam. I’m losing my edge, anyway. Even this kid managed to surprise me yesterday.” He nudged Noah with a grin, though his pride in the young hero was evident.
Adam shrugged, turning to Cyrus with an arched brow. “Fine, fine. Then what about you, Cyrus? One of the seven guardians must be quite the challenge, wouldn’t you say?”
Cyrus gave a sly smile, his eyes already gleaming with anticipation. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got. We have a day to kill until my ally arrives, anyway.”
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The two of them moved to the training grounds.
Cyrus turned to Adam, eyes narrowing. “How far are we taking this?”
Adam’s smile grew feral, his gaze alight with excitement. “I can’t get fired up unless I’m using Soul Release. So let’s make it count.”
Cyrus gave a sharp nod, raising his hand. “So be it. Awaken, Jack Frost.” A large, ice-white staff materialized in his hand. Its surface glistened like frost, and at the top was a triangular spearhead with a hollowed center, through which a faint, cold mist drifted. The staff seemed to radiate a frigid aura that lowered the surrounding temperature, crackling with latent frost magic.
Adam’s grin grew broader. “That’s more like it. Awaken, Cú Chulainn! Awaken Lancelot!”
In his right hand, a long white spear emerged, its shaft resembling twisted roots as if nature itself had formed it. The spear’s black blade gleamed with a menacing edge, its aura thrumming with wild, untamed power, as though the spirit of Cú Chulainn was itching for battle. In his left hand, Adam held Lancelot, a pitch-black lance with streaks of red spiraling through the metal. It was a knight’s weapon, deadly and unbreakable, but twisted and powerful, its presence feeling like the weight of ancient wars. Red sparks danced along its blade, hinting at its ferocious past and the blood it had spilled.
Cyrus grinned, his icy gaze unflinching as he gripped his staff. “No holding back, Adam! And don’t come crying if you lose an arm, Soul Release!” he declared, driving the staff into his chest.
The weapon began to merge with Cyrus's body, sending waves of frosty energy rippling outward. His fingertips and lips turned a glacial blue, and his skin became as pale as a winter storm. His hair lengthened and shifted to a pure, snowy white, and his entire form radiated an aura of bitter cold. The surrounding ground cracked and froze, covered in a layer of shimmering frost. His eyes, now an intense electric blue, burned like twin shards of ice, piercing through the chilled air.
Adam let out a wicked chuckle, twirling Cú Chulainn before him. “Decisions, decisions—who wants a piece of this fight?” he murmured to his weapons. “Guess it's you, my old friend. Ready, partner? Soul Release!” With a ferocious grin, he drove Cú Chulainn into his chest.
As the spear melded with him, a feral transformation overtook Adam. Sleek white armor encased him, overlaid with a dark, tattered cloak that billowed around him like shadowy flames. Black, razor-sharp claws extended from his fingertips, blending seamlessly into the armor’s gauntlets. His previously green hair streaked with a deep, ominous crimson, and his eyes glinted with predatory glee. His ears sharpened to a point, giving him an almost beast-like appearance. His very presence exuded raw, primal power, and the ground beneath him seemed to vibrate with barely contained ferocity.
Noah watched, wide-eyed and stunned. “What… what did they just do?” he stammered.
Lux’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he explained, “Soul Release, the technique that allows a user to fuse their very essence with their regalia. The soul and heavens intertwine, granting them these fearsome forms. Regalias aren’t just weapons, Noah, they’re crystallizations of myths, legends, and heroes from other worlds. Each holds the spirit, the ego, of those legends, drawn from realms far beyond this one.” He watched Adam and Cyrus with a proud, approving gaze. “In this form, they wield not only the power of their own souls, but also the stories and legacies embedded in their weapons.”
Cyrus clenched his fists, and the ground around him erupted in a circle of frost, a forest of deadly ice spikes shooting up in an instant. He dashed forward, his footsteps gliding over the frozen ground with unnatural speed, his eyes blazing blue. With a swift motion, he summoned a hail of jagged ice shards, sending them flying toward Adam.
Adam only smirked, plucking a strand of his now-crimson hair, stretching it out until it elongated into a blood-red spear. He hurled it with casual ease, and it shot forward, weaving effortlessly through the hail of ice shards, bypassing each obstacle as if it had a mind of its own. Cyrus barely sidestepped it in time, the spear embedding itself into the icy ground and leaving a scarlet trail.
“You’re not the only one with some tricks, Cyrus,” Adam taunted, tugging at another strand of hair. "But watch closely—these spears never miss."
Cyrus scoffed, thrusting his hand forward. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he growled, summoning a gust of snow that whirled around him, forming a dense wall of snowflakes. But Adam simply pulled out Lancelot, a pitch-black lance with red streaks pulsing along its length, like veins feeding it with power. The lance thrummed with an ominous energy, and Adam charged, aiming straight for Cyrus’s icy wall.
“Let’s see if you can stop this,” Adam shouted, thrusting Lancelot forward. The lance pierced the snow barrier as if it were made of mist, reaching straight for Cyrus.
Cyrus spun away just in time, raising a sword made of ice. But Lancelot sliced right through his defenses, nicking his arm and drawing a line of blue blood that froze instantly upon leaving his skin. Cyrus growled, pressing a hand to his wound, but his focus remained unbroken.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he taunted, slamming his fist into the ground. The frozen earth cracked, releasing jagged, spiraling shards of ice that twisted and wrapped around Adam’s legs like frozen vines, binding him in place.
Adam laughed, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Not bad!” With a swift motion, he yanked out a strand of red hair, transforming it into another spear that he jammed into the ice at his feet. The spear expanded, cracking the ice, freeing him from Cyrus’s snare in a burst of crimson energy.
“Let’s heat things up!” Adam roared, pulling three more strands at once and twisting them into a deadly trident. He threw it toward Cyrus, the trident splitting in midair into a trio of spears that whirled toward him like bloodthirsty missiles.
Cyrus summoned a gust of snow that swirled around him, creating a spiraling barrier. The snow thickened, forming into a solid shield of ice just as the trident of spears struck. Two of them were deflected, shattering harmlessly against the ice, but the third found its mark, slipping through a chink in the shield and grazing his side.
With a snarl, Cyrus raised both hands, and the surrounding air froze in a massive blast, covering the ground in a sheet of ice that spread in all directions. The cold intensified, drawing moisture from the air until it turned into swirling snow. He thrust his hand forward, and a barrage of icicles launched toward Adam, each one glistening with lethal precision.
Adam dodged with ease, twisting and sidestepping in a graceful dance as each shard narrowly missed him. “Is that all you've got?” he taunted, lifting Lancelot. He drew his arm back, hurling the lance straight at Cyrus with terrifying speed.
Cyrus tried to deflect it with a block of ice, but Lancelot cut through it like paper. He barely managed to sidestep, the lance slicing the air mere inches from his chest. With a grin, he retaliated, summoning a storm of icy winds that whipped through the clearing. Snowflakes turned into shards as the wind picked up, creating a blizzard-like vortex that surrounded Adam.
“You think a little snow will slow me down?” Adam chuckled, flexing his claws. His eyes flared, and he leaped forward, punching through the wall of ice, his claws digging deep into the frozen barrier before shattering it. His form flickered, and in a split second, he was directly in front of Cyrus, striking with a clawed fist.
Cyrus sidestepped, spinning on the ice, and retaliated with an ice-covered punch of his own. Their fists collided, sending a shockwave through the air, the surrounding ice cracking and trembling under their combined force.
Adam laughed as he hurled a rapid volley of blood-red spears toward Cyrus, each one homing in on him with deadly accuracy. Cyrus evaded with a grace that seemed almost casual, but he could feel the pressure mounting with each throw. These spears were relentless, turning mid-flight to pursue him, nipping at his heels.
“Getting a bit crowded here,” Cyrus muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing with focused intensity.
Then, with a glint of icy blue, Cyrus activated his demonic eye, The Timekeeper's Eye. His gaze locked onto the oncoming spears, and suddenly, their relentless motion ceased. Each one froze midair, suspended in time as if captured in a twisted portrait, just inches away from piercing his flesh.
Adam grinned, showing no hint of fear. “That’s a neat trick. But it won’t be enough to finish me!”
Cyrus’s hand glowed with a cold energy as he clenched his fist. “No trick, just strategy.” With a sharp exhale, he conjured a massive scythe from the surrounding ice, its blade shimmering with lethal intent as it formed in his hand. He whipped it around in a single fluid motion, holding the chilling weapon just an inch from Adam’s neck.
At the same time, Adam only smirked, reaching for another strand of crimson hair, and stretching it between his fingers. With a swift motion, he conjured another spear, pointing it directly at Cyrus’s chest, the tip glinting as if eager to strike.
The two stood locked in a silent standoff, their weapons at each other's throats. Frost curled around Cyrus’s scythe, while the air around Adam’s spear seemed to hum with a low, pulsating energy. Both men’s breaths were steady, their eyes locked in a deadly, unwavering stare. For a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath.
“Looks like we’re both still standing,” Cyrus finally said, a slight smile touching his lips.
Adam let out a low, appreciative chuckle. “I guess it’s a draw, then,” he replied, his tone as sharp as his weapon. Neither moved, but the shared respect between them was clear.
With a simultaneous nod, they each lowered their weapons, a mutual understanding forming between them, rivalry, respect, and perhaps even a hint of camaraderie.
Adam stretched, a contented grin on his face as his armor faded away and his normal attire returned. "It's been a while since I've faced someone who could keep up with me. Makes me feel alive again."
Cyrus smirked, the glacial chill in his veins settling as he deactivated his soul release. “Don’t get too comfortable, Adam. Of the seven guardians, in terms of sheer combat power, I'm the strongest. But I must admit, you gave me more of a workout than expected.”
Watching from the sidelines, Noah felt a spark of determination ignite in his chest. “Hey, Lux, do you think I'll ever be able to reach their level?”
Lux chuckled, placing a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “It’s a steep path, but I expect you’ll surpass even them someday. Still, you've got a lot to learn, and a lot of training ahead.”
Noah nodded, a look of fierce resolve on his face. “Then I’ll do it. I have to. For Ava, to hunt down the Crows, and to finally find my siblings… I won’t stop until I’m strong enough to face anything.”
He stepped forward, joining the two warriors in the training area. “Good work, both of you. Let me take care of those injuries and that exhaustion.”
He raised his hands, focusing as dark markings began to glow and shift across his arms, curling around his forearms and snaking faintly up to his face. With a concentrated effort, a warm energy radiated from his palms, surrounding Adam and Cyrus in a gentle healing aura. Instantly, the tension in their muscles eased, their cuts and bruises vanished, and their fatigue dissipated.
As he poured energy into them, the markings on Noah’s skin pulsed, expanding with each passing second. The pain that accompanied them flared, but Noah kept his expression steady, teeth gritted. Every time he used this ability, the markings seemed to spread further, digging deeper into his being. But he didn’t care; he had too many reasons to get stronger to let the pain slow him down.