As Akira flipped through the grimoire's blank pages, a subtle movement stirred beneath him—his shadow began to stretch, slithering outward like smoke, creeping across the stone floor and pooling at the feet of the armored soldiers.
Mikage called out, "Akira! What does the grimoire say?
"Nothing," Akira replied, still flipping.
"Excuse me?" Mikage pressed.
"I mean, there's nothi—ahh!"
The book suddenly pricked his finger. Akira flinched and dropped the grimoire, clutching his hand in pain.
Trixie shot forward in alarm. "What happened? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just a paper cut," Akira muttered.
Trixie relaxed slightly. "Oh, okay…"
But Akira's eyes narrowed. Paper cuts don't hurt this bad… and why am I bleeding this much?
On the floor, the grimoire lay open, blood blooming across its pages like ink in water. Suddenly, it pulsed—absorbing the blood. Crimson light bled from the text as glowing runes began to scrawl themselves across the pages. The red glow intensified.
Then, without warning, golden light leaked from the soldiers' bodies. But it twisted—contaminated—morphing into a deep, malevolent crimson.
From above, Trixie hovered, eyes wide. Did Akira… trigger something?
Akira's shadow coiled and swirled violently around the orb of light, forming a vortex of darkness. One by one, the armored husks of the soldiers collapsed, their bodies withering like discarded shells.
Then, from within the shadow, they began to rise again.
The darkness shaped itself, mimicking the fallen soldiers' forms. One by one, they reassembled—reborn in shadow.
And then the commander moved.
Without a sound, the crimson-eyed knight raised his blade and swung it toward the unsuspecting Akira.
As the blade descended toward Akira's head, an ominous chill crawled up his spine—like an invisible hand gripping his throat.
"Akira, watch out!" Trixie screamed.
He looked up. Time seemed to slow. The blade was nearly upon him. His limbs refused to move, his body paralyzed, as if it had already accepted death.
At the last second, the silk thread tied to his wrist yanked him sideways—Trixie pulling with all her strength. They both crashed to the ground, barely escaping the fatal blow. The shadowy blade struck the floor where Akira had stood, releasing a shockwave that shook the labyrinth, rippled through the ocean above, and trembled the distant island.
Mikage, Edward, and Yukiko took defensive stances.
The soldiers, once still as statues, now moved in eerie unison, forming a path between them and the towering knight. Akira turned to Trixie.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine… but I should be asking you that," she stammered.
"What do you mean?"
Blood trickled down the left side of his forehead. Akira winced, tore off a piece of his shirt, and wrapped it with shadows.
Mikage muttered under his breath, "We should've ignored the damn grimoire…"
A deep, hollow voice echoed from the armored knight:
> "I am Sigvard the Giant Slayer, Commander of the Black Wolves and Right Hand of Malakar."
Edward's eyes widened. "No way… I thought he was just a myth. A boogeyman to keep Divine Visionaries in line. This place was labeled low-level…"
Sigvard continued, "My master gave me his final command: Guard this grimoire. Slay any who dare claim it."
He raised his blade. "I shall honor his words, even if you are children."
Yukiko sighed. "The one day I leave my katana…"
She conjured a blade of ice in her hand.
Suddenly, shadow spikes erupted from the floor, aiming for Sigvard's head. He dodged with ease and turned to Edward.
"Damn," Edward cursed, "I was aiming to finish him instantly…"
He formed a shadow pistol, but Mikage yelled, "Don't fire that here—we'll—"
Too late.
Sigvard vanished. In an instant, he was beside Edward. A cold dread settled in the group as the knight appeared behind him without sound or warning.
"Normally, I'd give you a slow death," Sigvard said flatly, "but today is an exception."
He slammed his gauntlet into Edward's chest, sending him crashing into the wall. Blood poured from Edward's mouth and nose as he slumped, unconscious.
Sigvard frowned.
> His head should've exploded... Am I rusty from being dead this long?
He lifted his sword, stepping toward the fallen boy—when a wave of ice surged at him. He swung his blade once, unleashing a gust of wind that shattered the ice and knocked them back.
"Trixie, Akira—find the grimoire!" Mikage shouted. "Try reasoning with him!"
Akira hesitated. "What about you guys?"
"We'll buy you time," Yukiko said, gripping her ice katana. "Not much… but enough."
Mikage added, "If we fight him head-on, we all die. So move!"
Sigvard marched forward. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
As Akira and Trixie sprinted toward the altar, the Black Wolves began to swarm them.
Yukiko glanced at Mikage. "Do we have a plan?"
He smirked. "I don't. Do you?"
Yukiko replied, "Survive."
Mikage grinned. "Now that's a plan."
Sigvard, the Giant Slayer, towers above the rest—6 feet tall in tarnished, obsidian-black armor etched with glowing crimson runes. A thick fur cloak drapes behind him like a banner of conquest. His helmet is stylized into the shape of a wolf's snarl, and his blade, easily half the size of a fully grown human with malevolent energy. Though long deada terrifying aura radiates from him, each of his movements calculated and devoid of mercy..
The air tensed as Sigvard stepped forward, his armored boots crunching against the stone floor with deliberate weight. His blade, massive yet elegant, crackled faintly with blackened mana—an aura of death surrounding it.
"Please don't fight back it's embarrassing to watch," he muttered, his voice like metal dragged across stone. "Now I take your lives."
"Yukiko, right side!" Mikage shouted.
"Got it!" she answered, forming an ice wall just in time as Sigvard vanished again. His blade crashed through the wall, sending shards of ice exploding like glass, forcing the two to jump back.
Mikage landed first, sliding on the ground and slamming his palm down. A ring of fire erupted, encircling Sigvard in a flaming trap. "Flame Prison!" he called.
But Sigvard merely walked through the fire, his armor sizzling but unharmed. The fire parted around him, as if unwilling to touch him.
"My soul has walked through hell itself, boy," Sigvard sneered. "Your fire is a candle to me."
He swung again, the arc of his blade so fast it blurred. Mikage ducked just in time, the edge slicing a few strands of his hair. Yukiko dashed in from behind, her ice katana gleaming, and aimed for the back of Sigvard's knee.
Clang!
Her blade met his armor, but didn't pierce.
Sigvard spun and backhanded her, sending her crashing into a wall with a sharp cry. She coughed, ice magic flaring around her just enough to absorb some of the blow—but she was winded.
"Yukiko!" Mikage yelled, anger igniting inside him. His eyes burned crimson as he slammed his fists together.
"Inferno Surge!"
A stream of fire burst from his hands, spiraling forward like a dragon, the flames roaring with desperation.
Sigvard raised his blade and sliced the fire in half, the wave splitting and licking the walls behind him.
"You're wasting breath."
Then he was in front of Mikage.
A blur of steel.
Mikage leapt back, but not fast enough—the blade grazed his side, burning his jacket and cutting into his ribs.
He grunted in pain, skidding backward and forming two fire discs in his hands, hurling them like chakrams. Sigvard deflected one and sidestepped the second, but Yukiko had already recovered, now raining down ice needles from above.
"Snowfall Barrage!" she shouted.
Sigvard growled as the needles pelted his armor, one finally piercing between two joints in his arm. He turned, flicking his wrist and firing a mana shockwave that knocked her off her perch again.
She hit the floor hard, clutching her leg.
"Still standing," she muttered, teeth clenched.
Mikage's breaths were heavy. Blood stained his side, and his fire spells were clearly having minimal impact.
"Yukiko," he said hoarsely, "he's too strong... we need to stall. If we try to kill him, we die."
"I figured," she said with a weak grin. "But I'm not going down without stabbing him at least once."
Sigvard charged again, a blur of metal and malice. Mikage focused, raising a barrier of fire in the shape of a phoenix's wing to absorb the blow. The flames bent, screamed, then shattered.
Mikage barely ducked in time, grabbing Yukiko and rolling them both out of the way as the blade buried itself into the floor with such force that the stone cracked.
"One more hit like that and it's over," Mikage muttered. "Akira, Trixie... hurry."
As they scrambled to regroup, Sigvard turned to face them again—unrelenting, unstoppable.
The Black Wolves charged, rusted blades drawn, their glowing red eyes locked on the grimoire runners.
"I got the left!" Trixie shouted.
She spun mid-air, launching several kunai attached to strands of her enchanted silk. They sliced across the arena, embedding into two undead soldiers. With a twitch of her fingers, she yanked the threads—the kunai twisted inside them and tore through ancient joints, dropping the soldiers.
Akira, meanwhile, used Shadow Step to blink behind one of the undead. He sliced through it with a shadow blade, but another grabbed him from behind. Trixie saw and flicked a strand of silk that wrapped around its neck. With a whip-crack motion, she yanked it off Akira, sending it crashing into another.
More wolves poured in.
"Back-to-back!" Akira shouted.
Trixie released a flurry of kunai, anchoring threads to walls, pillars, even wolves themselves. The arena turned into a deadly web. She swung across, slicing through two more with thread-reinforced kicks.
Akira used the threads to pivot and propel himself mid-air, launching shadow spikes downward. "These guys don't quit!"
"Neither do I!" Trixie cried, forming a large cocoon around three wolves, then detonating it with explosive silk threads.
Their teamwork was raw, unrefined—but fierce. And the grimoire? Just a few steps away.
Sigvard's gaze shifted toward Akira and Trixie. Without a word, he vanished.
A sonic boom followed his movement—he reappeared behind Trixie in a blink, delivering a devastating kick to her ribs. The impact sent her crashing across the stone floor, a streak of blood trailing from her lips as she hit the ground hard.
"Trixie!" Akira turned, starting to rush toward her.
She groaned, forcing herself to a knee, her wings trembling as they tried to extend. Blood dripped down her chin. "I'm fine!" she shouted, her voice hoarse but fiery. "Keep going. I can handle myself!"
Akira hesitated. Her eyes locked with his, firm with resolve.
He nodded once—and ran toward the grimoire.
Sigvard turned toward her with silent purpose, raising his blade.
Trixie coughed but stood, wings unfurling behind her. Her sclera turned black, irises gleaming like gold. She wiped the blood from her lip and smirked.
"You know," she said, cracking her neck, "usually the knight saves the damsel. Guess you're the messed-up kind." She dropped into a low stance, one hand brushing the floor. **"Let's tango. Just a warning—I'm light on my feet."
Sigvard lunged and slashed horizontally. Trixie spun to the side, silk glinting around her arms. Another heavy swing came for her midsection—she split her body with a burst of wing-assisted movement, dodging again.
He raised his sword for a powerful overhead slash—but the blade stopped mid-air.
Sigvard frowned, glancing up. His weapon was tangled in glowing silk, webbed between two pillars behind them.
Trixie smirked. With a fluid twist, she lay back, one hand on the ground, using it as a pivot to spring herself upward—and kicked Sigvard clean in the face, flipping mid-air and hovering above him.
Unfazed, Sigvard tore through the silk with a swing, severing it with brutal efficiency.
He advanced again, expression flat.
Trixie responded by throwing a flurry of kunai down at him. Sigvard dodged, swatted, and deflected them with ease.
"Impressive," he said, voice rough like cracked iron. "In all my years, I never fought a fairy who could hold her ground… let alone one with such cunning."
"Aww, thanks," Trixie replied, grinning. "Still gonna kill you though."
She hovered slightly higher.
Sigvard vanished forward, blade raised—ready to cleave her down.
But the moment he stood face-to-face with her—he stopped moving.
His eyes widened.
Silk.
Every kunai embedded into the ground and pillars wasn't randomly thrown—they were anchors. Fine strands of silk ran between them, crisscrossing like a trap web. His limbs were completely entangled.
Trixie winked. "Not aiming for you was the point."
The silk began to glow gold. Magic pulse activated.
She blew him a kiss.
BOOM.
A golden explosion erupted from the web, sending debris and fire flying through the arena.
Trixie's wings flared as she shielded herself mid-air—but her eyes widened.
Sigvard burst through the smoke—raging, blade ready.
Too fast to dodge.
"Trixie!"
A torrent of fire exploded beneath her. Mikage rocketed in, catching her mid-air and pushing her aside—taking the blade head-on.
Sigvard's weapon crashed against Mikage's arm—but the impact didn't slice.
His skin shimmered—glowing, heat-hardened, scaled.
"You children are... persistent," Sigvard growled, examining Mikage. "And these… scales. Are you a dragon? Because if so, this isn't the time to hold back."
Mikage gritted his teeth. "What the hell are you talking about?"
A sudden icy chill swept over them.
From behind Sigvard, Yukiko stood, breathing heavily, a glowing orb of spinning ice in her hands—compressed and volatile.
"Ice Vortex!"
She hurled the sphere forward. It spun violently, drawing in air, moisture, light—everything—before it detonated into a whirling spiral of ice and wind aimed directly at Sigvard.