Shisan sat quietly on his small bed in his room, poorly illuminated by the lone candle that danced on the desk across from him. Stuck in the candle was a silver pin, lodged close to the top where the wax was steadily melting. Tonight was the night they had agreed to travel to the Demon's camps—a perilous journey decided in a moment of desperate urgency, giving them only a couple of hours to gather what little they had before setting off on a day-long odyssey.
Shisan examined the polished iron scabbard for his Raiper. The scabbard was adorned with delicate engravings of precious metals that swirled in intricate patterns, their luster illuminated ever so slightly by the ambient glow. As his fingers brushed over the smooth surface, the metals shimmered a bit brighter, and a quiet humming noise resonated from within the engravings—as if the very essence of ancient magic stirred at his touch. Steeling his resolve, he tightened his grip on his Raiper, feeling the weight of destiny settle upon him.
At that moment, the silver pin, dislodged from its precarious perch in the melting candle, dropped onto the metal plate holding the candle with a silent, resonant clang. It was time. Shisan rose, securing his Raiper at his hip. He reached for a small burlap sack, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease, and made his way to the candle. In one smooth motion, he extinguished the flame, plunging the room into complete darkness. Even as he left, his armor and scabbard glowed dimly in the black, a subtle reminder of the light he carried within.
Outside, the once bustling high streets of Heldholme were now empty and quiet. Only on special occasions did the streets echo with the slurred laughter of drunk men, the sorrowful tunes of bards, and the deliberate patrols of knights roaming every corner of the vast kingdom. Shisan walked toward one of the many heavily guarded gates, his steps measured and deliberate, as if he were absorbing this rare moment of peace. The guards eyed him silently until he displayed his Holden Crest, at which point they opened the gate just wide enough to allow him passage.
To the side of the gate, Yuchan and an old man were deep in conversation before a sturdy wagon drawn by two horses. At the sight of Shisan approaching, Yuchan's face lit up with a happy smile. She waved exuberantly in wide arcs, her staff held aloft as if heralding his arrival with its own quiet magic.
"Shisan!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with familiar warmth. Shisan couldn't help but smile in return, the genuine delight in Yuchan's excitement easing the tension of the journey ahead. He stopped in front of the pair and turned his attention to the old man.
"You must be our wagoner?" Shisan inquired, extending a hand to shake. The old man accepted the gesture with both hands, his smile radiating genuine pleasure.
"It is an honor to be able to assist a hero," the old man declared, still holding Shisan's hand in a firm grip that spoke of pride and gratitude. Yuchan observed the exchange with a hint of curiosity dancing in her eyes.
"Thank you for taking time out of your original route," Shisan said with a smile that conveyed both respect and relief for the old man's service.
"Oh, no worries. Around this time of year, I don't get business anyhow. If anything, I should apologize that I can't take you any closer to your destination than the Hyusoka Village," the old man said regretfully, his warm handshake still lingering.
"The withered forest is dangerous for any traveler; even if you did offer, I would have refused," Shisan replied half-smiling, a note of awkwardness in his tone as he realized the handshake was still in progress. A brief moment of silence passed, the old man's grip unwavering until he finally cleared his throat.
"Ahem," the old man said, releasing Shisan's hand and apologizing for the prolonged contact. Yuchan giggled at the small mishap, prompting Shisan to give her a slightly annoyed glance before scanning the area.
"Where's Xifan?" Shisan asked, his eyes darting around as he searched for his elusive companion.
"I don't know; somehow, you and I came before him," Yuchan sighed, dismissively waving her hand as if to erase the mystery of his lateness.
"That's weird, usually he's the first one here," Shisan murmured, pausing in his tracks. He rested his hand on his chin, deep in thought as a sudden realization brightened his expression.
"Maybe he got lost," Shisan announced confidently, nodding as if he had uncovered a brilliant explanation.
"Idiot, he's the one who got the wagon," Yuchan retorted, delivering a playful but firm smack to Shisan's head with her staff. The impact made him wince, and the levitating star atop her staff bobbled in protest.
The sound of the gate creaking filled the air, drawing everyone's gaze. They turned to see Xifan emerging from the gate, rubbing the back of his head in mild embarrassment. Seeing the group, Xifan quickened his pace toward them.
"Why are you late?" Yuchan asked with a hint of irritation in her tone as Xifan approached. He returned her query with a casual smile.
"I overslept," Xifan replied, shrugging off the delay. Yuchan raised an eyebrow and sighed, accepting the excuse for now. As Xifan and Shisan made eye contact, Shisan's gaze narrowed slightly; a twitch of his eye betrayed the suspicion that Xifan's casual answer might be masking a deeper truth. Shisan's intense focus on his companion's demeanor hinted at an ability to sense dishonesty—a power that set him apart.
"Is there something wrong? You look tense," Yuchan broke through Shisan's concentration, causing him to jump and glance at her with a brief, annoyed side-eye.
"Hey, what the hell was that look for?!" Before Yuchan could escalate the matter further, Xifan interjected with a light, urging tone.
"Let's get in, shall we?" he said. With that, Shisan and Yuchan noticed the old man moving to the front of the wagon while Xifan headed to the back. Shisan followed, still casting subtle, probing glances at Xifan, while Yuchan trailed behind him, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents swirling between the two.
The ride began with a noticeable discomfort—the hard, unyielding wooden seats and the rattling of the wagon set a rough cadence to their journey. Gradually, the inconvenience of the ride faded into the background. Yuchan, succumbing first to the gentle lulling of the ride, fell asleep, leaving Shisan and Xifan awake in the dim, creaking interior.
"I just realized, I don't know much about the pact—since we only began serving under the king after my elevation to hero status—but you seem to know so much," Shisan remarked, breaking the quiet with a thoughtful tone. Xifan's gaze softened as he turned his attention to Shisan.
"I always wanted to serve under his majesty, to serve humanity in its greatest form," Xifan said, his voice carrying an earnest sincerity that resonated deeply.
"Why didn't you just sign up for the military then?" Shisan countered, his curiosity mingled with a hint of skepticism.
"The army isn't the style," Xifan replied with a gentle smile. A comfortable silence settled between them before Shisan, ever inquisitive, broke it again.
"Who's the king in a pact with? You can only make a pact with someone of equal status, right?" Shisan pressed.
"Not quite—you can make a pact with anyone, but they must be of equal standing. His majesty made the pact with the demon king's son, Xal'vathar Malisa," Xifan informed, his tone carrying the weight of arcane political intrigue.
"Him?! I thought he died ages ago," Shisan said, genuine shock coloring his voice.
"Not dead, just deathly ill," Xifan clarified, leaving another heavy silence to settle in the wagon as the gravity of the revelation sank in. After long hours of travel and uneasy rest, the group finally reached the outskirts of a small village. The village's streets lay eerily empty, as if abandoned in anticipation of impending doom. Shisan peered out from the wagon, his eyes scanning for any sign of life—a child's cry, the comforting crackle of an oven, a door creaking open. Instead, he was met with only the whispers of a cold, unyielding wind.
The wagon came to a halt in the center of the town, and one by one, everyone disembarked. Everyone waved farewell to the old man, who departed in a hasty rush. Shisan gazed up at the sky, noting the sunset's melancholic glow. If there were ever a moment to strike, it was now—before their presence was detected and reported to the demon camp.
"Yuchan, can you search for the camp?" Shisan asked, his tone firm as he turned to his companion. Yuchan nodded and settled into a meditative pose by holding her staff against her forehead; the levitating star in her staff began to pulsate with a bright green glow.
"You plan on attacking tonight? Shouldn't we scout and plan first?" Xifan queried, his voice laced with concern.
"The longer we wait, the more we fail to rescue," Shisan retorted, crossing his arms and fixing Xifan with a determined glare.
"If we fail to rescue any of them and alert the demons to our knowledge of their plans, don't you think they'll set up extra precautions?" Xifan pressed further.
"How would we fail?" Shisan countered, his voice steady yet edged with defiance.
"If any of us kill a demon—if there's one we can't handle—or if everyone we're supposed to rescue dies," Xifan warned.
"We won't fail," Shisan declared confidently. Before the conversation could spiral further, Yuchan opened her eyes, restoring the star in her staff to its original yellow hue.
"Found it!" she announced happily. Shisan and Xifan exchanged looks, both ready for her to lead them to the camp. Together, the group jogged through the crowded woods until they reached the withered section. The trees in this part of the forest were grey and shriveled; a mere push could send them tumbling down like forgotten relics. The air was humid and thick with fog, and the only sounds were the occasional rustle of bushes and the mournful singing of crows.
The sun had fully set, and the moon now reigned high in the night sky, casting a pale glow over the landscape. Undeterred, the group pressed on. Yuchan halted behind a withered tree, and Shisan and Xifan followed suit.
From his concealed position, Shisan peered out to see the tall, wooden walls of the camp—vivid in his memory from the vision in the crystal orb.
"I'll scout," Shisan whispered to the pair before dashing away, his departure as swift and silent as a shadow. Xifan laughed awkwardly, and Yuchan face-palmed, yet neither could deny the necessity of his actions.
Shisan sprinted around the camp with a speed that produced a nearly inaudible sound, as if his movement was slicing through the wind itself. He paused behind a tree to observe the demon guards. They wore minimal armor—only a chest piece and a horned helmet—and were monstrous in appearance, their legs akin to those of a goat and their body parts mismatched in a grotesque patchwork. Still, such demons were not unfamiliar; an average demon, after all, was ten times stronger than a trained human, their strength evident even in the most unassuming of fighters.
'Normal demons,' Shisan thought, unimpressed. His eyes quickly scanned the perimeter until he found an unguarded section of the wall. With practiced precision, he assumed a crouched sprint start position. Exploding into a burst of silent speed, he launched himself into the air, aiming to infiltrate one of the small forts.
He landed inside one of the forts without a sound. Taking a moment to pat himself off and assess his surroundings, Shisan noted a collection of small tents and a wooden cabin guarded by two regular demons armed with glavies.
'That's definitely where they're taking humans,' he mused, steeling himself for what must come next. Concealing himself behind a tent, he cautiously made a small rip in the fabric to peer inside. What he saw sent a shock through his core—a storage space lined with metal dressers, their surfaces labeled with numbers that stirred a distant, haunting familiarity. As he ran his fingers over the engraved numerals, he felt a pulsating thrum emanating from the dresser. His heart pounded and sweat gathered on his brow as he hesitated, then slowly opened the dresser to reveal its ghastly contents: beating human hearts, still pulsing with a desperate rhythm. Shisan recoiled in horror, staggering backward and throwing up on the cold, hard ground.
'Why…?!' he screamed silently in his mind, his thoughts clouded by the image of what the demons were doing with those stolen hearts—or, worse yet, with humans stripped of their very essence.
Before he could gather his shock, the front end of the tent burst open, revealing two demon guards standing ominously at the entrance.
"INVADER!" One of them yells as he readies his glavie to stab the grounded Shisan. Shisan locks in, parrying the stab with a fluid motion that forces the glaive to impale the earth instead. This sudden deflection surprises the demon, leaving him vulnerable as he fails to react to the rising elbow from Shisan that soars directly at his jaw, knocking him out cold.
The other guard, undeterred, thrusts his glavie at Shinsan in an attempt to pierce his heart. With lightning-fast reflexes, Shinsan snatches the pole of the weapon before it can make contact, deftly redirecting it to miss him by a hair's breadth. Before the demon can even attempt to pull the weapon back into a dangerous arc, Shisan meets his assault with a brutal palm strike to the chin, sending the demon sprawling out of consciousness. Shisan then drops the glavie, stepping out of the tent—only to be met by a small group of demons, their eyes glinting with malice as they point their weapons at him. With unwavering determination, Shisan places his hand on his Raiper.
"Demons of the abyss, hear me now!" he bellows, beginning to pull out his Raiper and instantly enveloping himself in a radiant aura that defies the darkness.
"I am Xīwàng Shisan of Heldholme, and I stand before you with the Caelifex Puriflamma Gladius—an instrument forged in the sacred fires of our destiny." His voice resonates with conviction as his blade illuminates the night sky in bursts of pure, searing light. His eyes burn with passion and resolve, every fiber of his being ready to meet the coming battle.
"For the honor of the Kingdom of Heldholme and the future of all humanity, I deliver justice upon your unholy ranks. Your corruption will be scorched by pure flame, your shadows vanquished by righteous light." As his words echo through the camp, the demons charge, their battlecries merging with the clamor of chaos.
"Today, your tyranny ends, for you shall feel the wrath of our sacred vengeance!" Shisan declares as he readies his blade, even as the enemy swarms in overwhelming numbers. Recognizing his perilous disadvantage, he slashes the ground with a swift, decisive stroke, conjuring a vast cloud of dust. Yet even this desperate act does not deter the demons—they surge forward, driven by hatred, toward the point where Shisan last stood.
In the ensuing melee, Shisan dispatches the foes one by one, deliberately revealing himself to draw their aggression. Each charge, every slash and thrust from the demons, is met with Shisan's precise parries and counterattacks—a relentless flurry of strikes that leave his opponents rendered unconscious. As the dust begins to settle, the demons, now dazed and disoriented, slowly regain sight. Three of them rally for a final coordinated charge from different angles.
Shisan lunges at one of the assailants, preparing a decisive thrust with his rapier. In a moment of intense collision, the demon thrusts with its glaive as well. The two weapons clash—Shisan's rapier breaking through the glaive with ease. With a swift, brutal motion, he drives the blade into the demon's hand; in a single, fluid movement, he severs the limb and, with grim determination, grabs the demon's face. Spinning on his heel, he hurls the captured enemy's face toward another charging demon, forcing them into a violent collision that sends both crashing to the ground. Finally, Shisan turns his attention to the last adversary charging him and, with a skillful maneuver, cuts its glaive in half using the hilt guard of his rapier, knocking the creature out of the fight.
As the swirling dust settles completely, Shisan finds himself surrounded by unconscious demons. The remaining foes merely point their glavies at him—none daring to risk a charge. Observing their fearful, defeated stances, Shisan slowly advances toward the wooden cabin. The demons who stand in his path shift aside reluctantly, still clutching their weapons as a final show of defiance.
Reaching the cabin, Shisan places his hand on the cool bronze handle of the wooden door, glancing back as if expecting an ambush. But nothing happens—only the ominous silence of the night. Suddenly, he feels a slight rumbling and turns toward the source. Emerging into the small camp is a towering, three-meter-tall demon with four massive arms, each wielding a heavy metal club. Clad in nothing but a fearsome helmet, the demon's imposing figure sends a shiver down Shisan's spine.
'There's the leader,' Shisan thinks with a wry smirk as he turns to face the behemoth. The other demons spread out, forming an ever-widening circle as the demon leader steadily approaches. Shisan walks forward deliberately, closing his eyes to focus. He senses the raw, pulsating mana coursing through him—a violent, surging river of energy that starts in his toes and flows upward through every fiber of his being. With each beat of his heart, his muscles tighten, his senses sharpen. He readies his rapier as the demon leader comes to a halt mere feet away. The monstrous foe unleashes a deafening battle cry that shakes the very sky.
Without a moment to spare, the demon leader swings both his right and left clubs in unison. Shisan takes a large step forward, gliding his rapier along the trajectory of the left club and deftly redirecting it to the side. Seizing the opening, he charges toward the demon leader. As the enemy swings the second left club at Shisan's upper body, aiming to tear him apart, Shisan uses his momentum to slide under the oncoming blow. In a blur of motion, he recovers and, with a precision strike, slices off both of the demon leader's left hands in quick succession. Yet even as the leader roars in fury, he wastes no time; with a powerful kick, he sends Shisan reeling backwards. Shisan blocks the forceful kick, but the impact pushes him off balance.
'I swear these demons were stronger…. Or maybe I just got that much stronger,' Shisan mutters to himself with a rueful laugh, unable to entirely take himself seriously amid the chaos. The demon leader's roar pierces the air, shattering Shisan's momentary self-reflection. Shisan watches in disbelief as the leader begins regenerating his severed hands, the process accompanied by a deep, resounding roar that grows ever louder. The air grows hotter, and the demon leader's form swells with a dark aura, expanding with each agonized bellow. Blood gushes from his back as an extra pair of arms sprouts forth, a macabre display of demonic resilience. The leader drops one of his metal clubs, clutching the remaining one with both hands, and points it unyieldingly at Shisan. One by one, the surrounding demons fall silent as the club darkens to a deep red and a billowing steam fills the area, charged with raw magical energy.
Shisan stands, observing the evolving chaos, watching as demons falter and the club intensifies its ominous power. In a voice that cuts through the tension, he speaks with grim finality, "Just one of the many things that separate you from everyone else, your only redeeming quality." He points his sword downward and closes his eyes, focusing his will.
"Your ability to sacrifice everything at a drop of a coin," he continues, his aura swelling until it completely overwhelms the demon leader's. Then, with measured authority, Shisan begins his incantation:
"By the ceaseless sands of infinity," he chants, his voice resonating with the weight of eternal resolve, his overwhelming aura contracting into a focused force.
"I invoke the eternal and profound, Phoenix of Permanence!" At his call, a majestic phoenix materializes behind him—a creature whose iridescent plumage shimmers with hues of deep midnight blue interlaced with molten gold. The phoenix's piercing cry rips through the silence, its fury directed squarely at the demon leader.
"Let its ageless blaze carve destiny into the very fabric of existence, let its everlasting flame etch destiny in stone." Shisan's aura shrinks to a precise point, and the demon leader's metal club, now brimming with potent, volatile energy, emits a scream that seems to echo the agony of countless souls.
"So that Heldholme's honor shines eternal in every strike!" With that final declaration, a massive molten blast hurtles toward Shisan. In a breathtaking display of agility and power, Shisan slices the blast in half, diverting its course so completely that it misses him, obliterating everything in its wake. The sheer force of the explosion rips through a mountain in the distance, reshaping the very landscape. Amid the chaos, Shisan stands unfazed while the demon leader is forced to his knees.
"A drop of a coin, your greatest strength is your greatest weakness," Shisan declares as he sheaths his rapier, leaving the demon leader powerless and bowed in defeat. Before Shisan can catch his breath or turn away, a figure begins to emerge from the cabin—a presence that catches him completely off guard. Instinctively, Shisan unsheathes his rapier, pressing its cold edge to the figure's neck.
The intruder is a woman with striking red skin, small, sharp horns, and short black hair. Without meeting his eyes, she continues her steady approach toward the fallen demon leader. Clad in a rugged, slightly tattered black cloth dress reminiscent of a peasant's garb, she moves with a quiet, deadly purpose. At her hip hangs a sheathed, broad sword—a simple yet lethal weapon. Shisan watches, heart pounding, as the woman presses her hand against the demon leader's arm, eliciting only a low, deliberate grunt in response.
"Who are you?" Shisan demands, his stance shifting into a combat-ready posture, prepared for any sudden aggression. The woman does not answer immediately; instead, she fixes Shisan with a cold, empty gaze that sends a chill coursing through his veins. In that silent moment, Shisan's mind races—'I didn't even hear her approach, nor did I sense her presence until it was too late… Is this a demon? No, demons don't look humanoid. Then what is this…?' A torrent of questions floods his thoughts.
Before he can gather his courage or demand answers, the woman strides directly toward him. Shisan, instinctively, tightens his grip on his rapier, ready to deflect a sudden attack. But as she nears, she unsheathes her blade and, with a swift upward arc, attempts to slice off Shisan's hand. In the nick of time, Shisan pulls his hand back, though not without consequence—the tip of his middle finger is lacerated, a searing reminder of the encounter. The woman, undeterred, readies another strike. Shisan braces for a counter, but her movements are a blur; her blade arcs toward his head, and though he manages to block it with both hands around his rapier, the impact sends him stumbling backward.
Shisan scrambles to regain his footing, his mind reeling from the unexpected ferocity. As he steadies himself, a harsh, metallic sound draws his attention downward—the unmistakable sound of his Raiper, a relic of heroic renown, now bearing a visible crack along its surface. His heart sinks; the weapon that once symbolized his indomitable spirit is now marred by the battle's fury.
In that moment, hopelessness and fury intertwine within Shisan as he realizes that the woman before him is of a caliber far beyond that of a mere sword saint. The woman pauses, her eyes never leaving his, and turns to face him fully. Before she can take another step, a loud, familiar feminine voice reverberates from the sky.
"Great Wall of Sloan!"
A vast black void materializes, separating Shisan and the woman with an impenetrable barrier. In an instant, Yuchan and Xifan descend from above, landing before Shisan. Xifan quickly places Shisan's arm around his shoulder and guides him toward the entrance as the wall dissipates, leaving Shisan to look back and see the woman still fixated on him with that cold, unyielding gaze before she strides into the cabin.
"What about everyone?!" Shisan cries out as they make their way away from the forts. His plea hangs in the thick, heavy air, but neither Yuchan nor Xifan offers an answer. Their expressions speak of deep despair as they return to the abandoned village, where the atmosphere feels even more suffocating.
"What happened to everyone?" Shisan asks, his voice barely masking the dread within. Yuchan averts her gaze, prompting Xifan to speak for the group.
"While you were busy distracting everyone, Yuchan and I snuck in. Each tent contained a different major organ—hearts, livers, kidneys, and so on. We could have stopped there, and we should have, but we didn't." Xifan pauses, his eyes distant as he relives the traumatic scene.
"Inside one of the cabins, we found a planning sheet. It was a diagram of what they called 'Dæma Vascora'—a soul of a demon reconstructed with the body of a human, infused with the tainted flow of demon blood." His voice trembles with the weight of the revelation.
"Was she one of them?" Shisan asks, dread lacing his tone as he contemplates the dark possibility.
"As of now, she was the only successful one." Shisan's heart sinks as the implications settle over him like a suffocating shroud. An army of such beings? His skin pales, yet Xifan continues.
"For the humans, they are somehow kept alive—even after all their organs are removed. They were hung like pigs; we couldn't save them." The group falls into a heavy silence, each word marking the beginning of an unfathomable end, leaving them feeling utterly powerless.
Suddenly, silver chains burst forth from the ground, ensnaring Shisan's arms and wrenching him to his knees. The cold, burning metal wraps around his neck, legs, and arms, scorching his skin with every contact. Yuchan's eyes widen in shock as Shisan's anguished screams are muffled by chains that clank and sizzle against his flesh.
"Shisan!" Yuchan cries out, her voice laced with terror as she scans for the source of the intrusion.
"My, my…" A sinister voice emerges from the shadows, causing both Xifan and Yuchan to turn in its direction. A tall, slender man steps forward. His long hair and fox-like visage are accentuated by the polished, robe-like armor he wears—an armor adorned with the Heldholme crest, glinting coldly in the dim light.
"You've truly done it now, haven't you boy?" The man sneers as he strides past Xifan and alongside a restrained, pained Shisan. Yuchan readies her staff, her eyes flashing with anger as she demands answers.
"What do you think you're doing, Sword Saint Manto?!" Yuchan yells, her tone sharp and indignant. Manto glances at her briefly before pointing toward the village entrance. There, the Commander appears along with four other guards and an extra, empty horse, all riding in unison.
Sword Saint Manto fixes his gaze on Shisan, who is clearly in agony.
"You should be proud, boy— they sent a Sword Saint to restrain you." His laughter echoes mockingly through the night as the group of knights draws near.
"Explain yourself, Commander!" Yuchan demands, her voice trembling with fury.
The Commander produces a scroll and begins to read:
"By the grace of our Lord and the King, on the 13th of Lunar Cycle 7 in the Year of Our Lord 1460, I, Commander Baraggan Louie, Keeper of the King's Peace, do hereby command that Xīwàng Shisan, a subject of this realm, be forthwith apprehended and banished from this world as per His Majesty's divine judgement.
Zhōng Yuchan, a subject of this realm, be forthwith apprehended and imprisoned as per His Majesty's divine judgement.
This warrant is issued on account of the grave offenses committed by the said Xīwàng Shisan—notably treason, broken vow of a hero, and defamation against the Crown—and it is ordered that all peacekeepers, knights, and free men render prompt and unwavering assistance in his capture. Let none obstruct the execution of this writ, under penalty of the King's severe retribution."
Commander Baraggan Louie makes direct eye contact with the restrained Shisan. Though Shisan does not speak, his eyes burn with anger and defiance that speak volumes.
"Shisan and I…?" Yuchan questions softly, her voice filled with disbelief as she turns to Xifang, who stands silently by Sword Saint Manto.
"No…" Yuchan whispers under her breath as Xifang moves toward the extra horse.
"Xifang did the right thing. I hope you learn to do so too after you have some alone time behind bars," Baraggan commands, signaling the knights to move in. With practiced efficiency, they restrain Yuchan with a rope. All the while, Shisan's gaze fixes on Xifang—an unspoken question burning in his eyes.