He stepped onto the glassy surface of the ground, and the closer he got to the Guardian, the more he sensed a change in the world around him.

When he’d traveled with Helmer through the anomaly, the world around him hadn’t seemed all that different from the familiar surroundings of the Mortal Realm — except for the sky, of course.

But here...

Hadjar leaned forward and swept his hand across the purple clouds. They felt wet and cold, reminiscent of morning mist hovering over a cool lake. But there was something else in that moisture and coolness, something the General couldn’t quite put his finger on.

It unsettled him slightly. The sensation of touching the clouds, though largely familiar, seemed to lack one or two minor details. Their almost imperceptible absence made the whole experience somewhat... artificial?

“Only a mortal would notice it,” the demon murmured, seemingly tuned into Hadjar’s thoughts. “The fleshless wouldn’t know the difference.”

Hadjar merely shrugged. The worries of the Immortals rarely affected him. As Shakh had often remarked, he was just passing through.

The elephant man, which had almost disappeared into the clouds, reappeared the moment Hadjar crossed an invisible border.

“I am Gambatta, Guardian of the Gate of the Immortals,” he intoned, dropping to one knee.

His otherworldly eyes, without pupil or iris, resembled twin voids filled with frozen clouds. They fixated on Hadjar unblinkingly.

“Who are you, traveler? I don’t recognize your name among those who have faced the trial of the Heavens and the Earth.”

“I am Hadjar Darkhan, Wind of the Northern Valleys.”

Scratching his tusks, the Guardian seemed to ponder this for what felt like several minutes.

“Ah, I have found it!” The creature exclaimed. “Master Darkhan, your name is here... Strange... It’s listed among those who have failed the final test. Is this true, mortal?”

“It is, Gambatta,” Hadjar confirmed without hesitation.

The elephant’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Then how did you get here, mortal? More to the point, why are you still breathing? Those who fail the trial of the Heavens and the Earth are destined to become disembodied Spirits, thrust into the cycle of rebirth! It is the design of the universe.”

“Well,” Hadjar replied, “there seems to be something wrong with the universe, then.”

The elephant’s trunk quivered with outrage.

“You dare joke about such things? Explain your presence, mortal, and be careful with your words; your very breath defiles our domain!”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I wonder,” Helmer mused with a chuckle, “would he question his King in much the same way? After all, Ash is still flesh and bone. He never gave up his mortal trappings, did he?”

Hadjar had to restrain himself from lashing out at his companion for withholding such vital information for three centuries.

“I am here, Gambatta, to pass through the gate,” Hadjar said, bowing deeply. He bore no grudge against this Guardian who had served with honor for eons. “And I will do so.”

“A mortal passing through the gate?” The elephant man scoffed before bursting into laughter, which sounded like the trumpets of a triumphant army. “I would love to witness that, you lowly worm. But you won’t even be able to take another step. My Mace of All Truths will obliterate you and ensure that you face your preordained fate in the Cycle of Reincarnation!”

The elephant wasted no more time and brandished his imposing weapon. The heavens trembled, clouds swirling around the tip of the mace. With a fierce roar, Gambatta brought it down on the General.

Hadjar perceived the attack with vivid clarity, like watching a dove’s wings flutter on a sunny day. He gauged the strength and trajectory of the attack, feeling as if he were in the midst of a simple training session with his troops rather than confronting one of the Ancients.

And what honorable warrior would draw their blade during a harmless training session?

Hadjar simply raised an open palm.

As the mace, as vast as a great pond, struck his mere mortal form, his Spirit and essence surged and coalesced around him. The mysteries of the Sword and the True Name of the North intertwined to serve him.

As the clouds dissipated, Gambatta was stunned to find Hadjar grasping the full weight of the Mace of All Truths in his hand. Even more shocking were the deep gashes etched into the lower half of the Gatekeeper’s fearsome weapon, marring its tip in a way only countless blades could’ve managed normally.

“What…” The elephant raised his weapon and instinctively stepped back. “What is this magic? Who are you to mock me? Which of the high-ranking Immortals has descended here to play this cruel joke on me and stain my honor?”

“I give you my word, Gambatta,” Hadjar replied, bowing once more. He drew an ancient knife and made a slight incision across his palm. As the first drops of crimson blood emerged, he held his hand up for the Guardian to see. “I am but a mortal. Neither god, nor demon, nor Spirit. It is not my intention to dishonor you. As I said, I only wish to pass through the gate.”

Gambatta blinked, processing this revelation. Moments later, he straightened up, grasped the hilt of his mace with both hands, and unleashed a violent swing.

The blow darkened the sky, transforming the purple clouds into ominous storm clouds. Hadjar realized that this immense power could wipe him out — it was a power that could erase both his physical form and his Spirit.

Still, he extended his hand forward, swinging it as if he were wielding a sword. His cloak, emblazoned with the crest of a soaring Quetzal bird, billowed behind him. Soon after, a gigantic spectral blade, conjured by the gusts of the northern winds, surged forward to defend him.

Before Gambatta could complete his charge, Hadjar’s counterattack met his assault. There was no blinding display, no burst of power, just the severed tip of the mace falling to the ground with a deep thud. At the same time, the wind sword dissipated into the sky and the clouds.

Defeated, the Guardian fell to his knees, his gaze vacant and disoriented.

With a hint of sadness, Hadjar sighed. “I meant no harm, brave Guardian,” he said as he walked past. “I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me one day.”

Gambatta remained silent, obviously in shock. But as Hadjar approached the Gate of the Immortals and the towering barriers that blocked the path beyond, he paused for a moment.

“Hadji…” Helmer whispered with a hint of mischief. “Let’s do this right, shall we? With fucking style.”

For the first time in ages, a subtle grin graced Hadjar’s lips. With a quick turn and a kick, he flung open the massive gate, inspected his sheathed sword one last time, and stepped confidently through the shimmering mist of the ethereal veil.