The castle was once a beacon of hope, a grand fortress that embodied Milix’s strength and sovereignty. But now, it stood as a hollow, crumbling remnant of what it once was.

The cold stone walls seemed to stretch endlessly into darkness, and the shadows moved unnaturally, like they were alive.

The air was thick with the scent of decay, and each step echoed ominously, as though the castle itself was breathing in time with the malevolent energy that clung to it.

The dim torchlight flickered weakly, casting long, twisted shadows across the cracked marble floor. What little light there was revealed faded tapestries that depicted the history of Milix—its great kings, legendary battles, and the peace it had fought to preserve. But now, those images were torn, defaced by the dark magic that had invaded the castle.

Izana Kurayami stood at the center of it all, seated upon the throne as if it had always belonged to him. His dark robes seemed to merge with the shadows, his red eyes gleaming with malice.

A thin smile curled on his pale lips as he watched Katsuo approach, his presence exuding a sense of cold dominance.

The malevolent energy in the air made it hard to think, hard to focus. Everything about this place felt wrong. His fists clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword as he took a step forward, his voice shaking with barely contained rage.

"Where is King Milix? What have you done with him?"

Izana’s smile widened as he leaned back in the throne, a low, maniacal chuckle escaping his lips.

The sound was devoid of humanity, a sound that sent chills down Katsuo’s spine. Izana’s laughter filled the room, rising in intensity until it echoed through the very walls of the castle, almost as though the darkness itself was mocking Katsuo’s question.

Katsuo’s eyes widened as the realization sank in, and his heart twisted with grief. King Milix… was gone. He could see it in Izana’s cruel expression. The ruler of Milix, the man who had united the fractured territories, was dead.

"You… bastard!" Katsuo screamed, his body trembling with anger as he tightened his grip on his sword. Without thinking, he charged forward, his odachi gleaming in the dim light as he aimed for Izana’s heart.

"I’ll kill you!"

But before Katsuo could reach him, another figure moved from the shadows, stepping in front of Izana with calm, deliberate precision.

"Don’t waste your time on him, Katsuo," said Xanus, his voice smooth and composed. He stood with the air of a swordsman who was fully in control, his rapier gleaming in the weak light.

Behind him, a series of floating magic swords hovered, crackling with energy, their tips aimed at Katsuo like predators ready to strike.

Katsuo gritted his teeth, his eyes flicking toward Xanus. "What?! Move aside!" Katsuo growled, his mind still clouded with the need to strike Izana down.

Xanus’s gray eyes met Katsuo’s with an icy calm. "You won’t be fighting him," he declared, his tone as firm as his stance.

"I will be your opponent."

Katsuo’s fury burned brighter at Xanus’s interference. Ignoring him, Katsuo continued his charge toward Izana, intent on cutting him down.

But before his blade could reach its target, a blue sword materialized from thin air and flew directly toward him, forcing Katsuo to leap backward, narrowly dodging the strike. The blade embedded itself into the stone floor with a heavy thud.

Xanus’s voice was calm, yet filled with the weight of his authority. "It’s non-negotiable," he said, taking a step forward, his rapier gleaming menacingly.

"I will be your opponent."

Before Katsuo could protest, Xanus raised his hand, and the floating magic swords behind him sprang to life. With a single command, they rushed toward Katsuo in perfect formation, their speed blinding.

Katsuo’s instincts kicked in immediately, and he raised his odachi, shifting into the 4th Form: Iron Mountain. His blade moved in precise, powerful arcs, deflecting the magic swords as they came at him from all directions.

The clash of metal rang out as the floating blades collided with Katsuo’s sword. His movements were fluid, each block carefully timed to counter the relentless assault. But Xanus wasn’t finished. In a blur of movement, Xanus closed the distance between them, his rapier striking with incredible speed.

Katsuo barely managed to block the blow, but the force behind it sent him skidding backward.

Before Katsuo could regain his footing, Xanus was on him again, his rapier a blur of silver as it struck at every weak point in Katsuo’s defense.

The floating swords darted in and out of the fray, keeping Katsuo on the defensive. Xanus’s strikes were precise—he fought like a man who had already predicted every move Katsuo would make.

"You’re wasting your time, Katsuo," Xanus sneered, his rapier flashing as it came within inches of Katsuo’s face.

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"You’ll never reach Izana if you continue fighting like that."

Katsuo growled, his muscles burning with exertion as he blocked another rapid series of strikes. Xanus was fast—too fast. The floating swords made it nearly impossible for Katsuo to find an opening. But he wasn’t about to give up.

Xanus pushes Katsuo to the other room trying to take their battle out of the throne room, But more importantly away from the cold gaze of Izana.

Grant, meanwhile, made his way through the palace’s lower levels. The deeper he ventured, the more twisted the castle became.

What had once been a symbol of royal authority was now a macabre reflection of Izana’s dark power. The walls were slick with a strange, oily substance, and the air was thick with an unnatural cold that clung to his skin.

Each step he took echoed eerily, the sound swallowed by the oppressive silence that hung over the place like a shroud. The shadows moved unnaturally, shifting and twisting as though alive.

Grant could feel the dark magic that permeated every inch of the palace, the malevolent force that had corrupted the very foundations of Milix.

It was suffocating, like a weight pressing down on his chest with every step he took.

At last, he entered a wide, circular chamber, and the stench of blood and rot assaulted his senses. His stomach churned as his eyes fell on the gruesome sight before him.

Lying on a stone slab in the center of the room was the mutilated body of King Milix.

Grant’s breath caught in his throat, his heart sinking as he took in the horrific scene. The king’s body had been brutally tortured—his limbs twisted unnaturally, his skin pale and covered in deep cuts.

His regal robes were soaked in blood, the once-proud symbol of Milix now reduced to a gruesome spectacle.

Grant knelt beside the king’s body, his hand trembling as he offered a silent prayer. King Milix had been more than just a ruler—he had been a symbol of hope for the people of Furashima, a man who had fought to protect the peace in a world teetering on the edge of darkness.

But now, that hope was gone, ripped away by Izana’s cruelty.

"You didn’t deserve this," Grant whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "None of this… should have happened."

The silence in the room felt deafening, as though the castle itself mourned the loss of its king. Grant clenched his fists, a burning anger welling up inside him as he rose to his feet. Izana would pay for this. He would make sure of it.

As he turned to leave the chamber, a familiar coldness washed over him. He could feel Izana’s presence, like a thick, oily fog that clung to the air.

With renewed determination, Grant ascended the stairs, making his way toward the throne room. There would be no hesitation this time—he was ready to end this.

Back in the throne room, Izana’s laughter echoed once more, a chilling sound that reverberated through the ruined hall.

"Ah, Grant Russell," Izana’s voice called out as Grant entered the room. The dark mage sat on the throne, his red eyes gleaming with amusement.

"I was wondering when you would show up. You’re just in time to witness the dawn of my new empire."

Grant said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Izana. The sight of the dark mage sitting so casually on the throne made his blood boil. Without a word, Grant raised his sword, letting out a sharp command.

"Crystallize!"

The crystals embedded in his sword began to glow with a brilliant light, and with a swift motion, Grant unleashed a powerful Crystal Slash toward Izana.

The magic-infused attack streaked through the air, aimed directly at Izana, crackling with energy. The power behind Grant’s strike was immense, and for a brief moment, it seemed that it had found its mark.

The crystal slash hit Izana dead center, the blinding light of the impact illuminating the dark throne room in a dazzling display.

But the momentary satisfaction on Grant’s face faded as quickly as it came.

The dust settled, and where Izana should have been wounded or worse, there was only empty air. His figure flickered, like a mirage dissolving before his eyes.

"An illusion?" Grant muttered in disbelief, lowering his sword slightly as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

His instincts screamed at him to stay alert, but the confusion was too great. He turned sharply, scanning the room for any sign of the dark mage.

Izana’s chilling laughter filled the room once more, this time from behind Grant.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Izana’s voice mocked. "You haven’t even scratched the surface of my power, Vanguard."

Before Grant could react, a searing pain shot through his body. He gasped as an icicle spear materialized out of thin air and impaled him from behind, its jagged form sinking deep into his side.

The icy cold spread rapidly through his veins, the numbing sensation almost unbearable as blood began to drip down his abdomen.

Grant staggered forward, his hand instinctively going to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. His vision blurred for a moment, the pain threatening to overwhelm him.

He spun around, gritting his teeth against the agony, his eyes locking onto Izana, who stood calmly a few feet behind him, his hand still outstretched, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"You're predictable, Grant," Izana sneered, his red eyes glowing brighter as he slowly lowered his hand. "Too focused on brute force to see the truth."

Grant took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand despite the wound. He couldn’t let Izana get into his head. Not now. Not when everything was on the line.

He tightened his grip on his sword, trying to ignore the blood trickling down his side. The crystal slash may not have worked, but he wasn’t out of tricks yet.

But before Grant could make his next move, something unsettling happened. The air in the throne room grew colder, and a series of soft, malevolent chuckles echoed from every direction.

Grant’s brow furrowed as the laughter intensified, multiplying. He turned his head, scanning the shadows that clung to the walls, and suddenly saw them—three figures, each identical to Izana, emerging from the darkness.

"Three?!" Grant whispered, his confusion deepening. The clones moved with the same eerie grace, each wearing the same wicked smile as they surrounded him.

"Having trouble keeping up?" the Izana on the left taunted.

"Or perhaps you’re starting to see the futility of it all?" the one on the right added.

Grant's heart raced as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. He knew Izana was capable of illusions, but this was different.

These duplicates moved like real entities, each with the same aura of dark magic. He couldn’t tell which one was real—or if any of them were.

"Which of us will you strike, Vanguard?" the middle Izana asked, his voice smooth and condescending.

"Make your choice wisely, or suffer the consequences."