Jiro's body fell heavily onto the snow, leaving behind a trail of blood that contrasted starkly with the whiteness of that frozen world.
The Hail King's sword remained embedded in his chest, glowing with a pale blue light that froze not only flesh, but soul as well.
His eyes, usually lively and trembling with restrained emotion, began to lose their glow until they went out completely. It was the clearest, most irrefutable sign of a life extinguished. Jiro Hachigane... was no longer breathing.
—Jiroooo! —Ardan screamed with a mixture of rage and desperation, clenching his teeth as he saw his friend lying lifeless on the snowy mantle.
The Hail King, unmoved, raised one of his arms clad in frost-covered armor.
A sharp sound, like shattering crystal, rang out as a dozen ice blades formed, aimed directly at Saria, who stood frozen in fear just in front of her brother's lifeless body.
—I won't let you do it! —roared Ardan as he lunged forward, summoning a spiritual barrier that rose between his sister and the danger.
But it was useless.
The ice blades struck with brutal force against the barrier, shattering it into thousands of pieces like a mirror smashed apart.
The fragments fell to the ground, glimmering faintly, reflecting pale faces and the horror in the siblings' eyes.
—Damn it... —muttered Ardan with a final burst of strength, throwing himself in front of Saria to shield her from death.
The blades pierced his body with terrifying precision, as if the ice itself sought out his heart. The young man dropped to his knees, spitting blood that splattered the snow, and then collapsed into his sister's arms.
—Brother, no...! —Saria cried, her face covered in tears as she knelt in the snow and cradled Ardan's body. His blood soaked her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground red. The warmth of his life slowly faded between her hands.
The Hail King watched the scene with indifference. His eyes were like pearls of ice carved in the solitude of an endless winter.
—This is what happens when you defy the king —he declared in a deep voice, resonant like an icy cavern—. Now, let the eternal cold cover your skin... and your soul.
As Saria sobbed, holding her wounded brother, the storm continued to roar around them. The snow covered everything—heavy, thick— as if the world itself wanted to bury the living along with the dead.
The Garden of Eden, once a sacred place, was now wrapped in deadly silence, broken only by the wind's howl and the whisper of ice.
Kogorō, the spirit of tyranny, lay frozen. Jiro showed no signs of life. Ardan hovered near death. The Hachigane siblings seemed completely alone. Lost.
The Hail King raised his arm again. The blades spun, gathered, and once again pointed... at Saria.
—Now you may join your friends.
The blades flew toward her at impossible speed, slicing through the air. Saria closed her eyes. But before the impact occurred… everything froze. Not just the attack: time itself.
The snow hung suspended in the air, the flakes static like floating crystals. The Hail King was motionless, his face unchanged, and Saria was frozen in a moment of despair. The entire world turned gray.
A voice rang out, strong, serene, familiar.
—Well done, Guilo. You did very well.
On the shoulder of a slender man with radiant golden eyes perched a majestic owl, its feathers white and silver-gray: Guilo, the Vestige of Time.
Before them stood Elliott Ashfield, the wandering sage and healer of the north, walking through frozen time with calm, steady steps.
With swift, calculated movements, he took Saria into his arms and, with Guilo's help, dragged Ardan away from the frozen blades. Then, without losing a second, he wrapped Jiro in a temporal ribbon that flowed from the owl's wings.
In a matter of seconds, they vanished from the battlefield.
The Hail King, his face exposed beneath his open helm, showed not a hint of surprise.
—I dislike interference —he muttered, his icy eyes fixed on the void—. They'll be back...
In a distant corner, between rocky formations and eternal blizzards, still within Eden's Winter Kingdom, Elliott had set up an improvised shelter. A weak fire crackled, and the bodies of Jiro and Ardan lay on rough blankets, covered in bandages soaked in medicinal herbs.
The healing energies of Guilo flowed like a golden spring across their wounds, purifying, closing, restoring.
Saria sat to the side, her eyes lifeless, drowned in an inner shadow born not from the night nor the cold, but from guilt and disappointment. She felt empty. Useless. A burden.
After finishing the last treatments, Elliott sat beside her. Without saying a word, he gently stroked her head between her red horns, softly brushing aside some dark strands that covered her face.
—Weren't there four of them? Where's the other spirit? The rude one? I think his name was Kogorō...
—I don't know... —Saria replied, her voice broken—. Maybe he escaped... or died. I probably wouldn't have noticed anyway.
Elliott sighed.
—Don't worry, girl. They'll be alright. I got there just in time —he said with a soft smile.
Saria didn't respond. She stared at the ground. Elliott turned his gaze to the two wounded boys.
—They were on the edge of death. But with my herbs and Guilo's magic, they'll recover soon.
—Maybe if I had done something... they wouldn't be like this —Saria whispered—. Maybe if I'd been stronger...
—Not all of us are born to fight on the battlefield —he said sincerely—. But that doesn't make us useless.
Elliott's voice was firm, yet compassionate.
—I'm not good at fighting. I'm not a swordsman or a warrior. Sometimes I even stumble while walking. But I know how to use herbs. And with that... I save lives.
Elliott leaned in a little more, looking into her eyes.
—That goes for you too, Saria.
—Don't bother trying to make me feel better.
—I'm not —he replied calmly—. I'm just giving you a truth. We all have value. We just need to find what we're good at. And that... only you can discover.
Elliott stood up, leaving Saria in silence, lost in thought.
Meanwhile, Guilo spread his wings over Jiro and Ardan. From his feathers fell a golden, warm, healing energy. The small owl, with eyes that had seen centuries, observed the young Jiro in particular.
—What a strange case... —he thought—. He should have died. That sword freezes the soul. But... it didn't.
Time itself whispered secrets to him. With his gift, Guilo could see beyond the present. And what he saw in Jiro... was something ancient. Something that had lived many times.
—My suspicions were right —he reflected in thought—. This boy... is no ordinary one. Among us is a reincarnated soul. A cultivator from past eras.
And so, while the storm roared beyond the shelter and hope rekindled in faint embers, destiny continued its course.
For ice does not forgive… but time holds secrets that only wait for the right moment to awaken.
As chaos unfolded beneath the snowy sky, in the frozen cave where Jiro's body lay motionless, time seemed to have stopped.
Everything was silent… except for a faint, constant sound: drops of water falling onto stone, echoing through the void like whispers from another world.
That rhythmic dripping was the first thing heard within Jiro's deep unconsciousness. In the vast darkness of his mind, those drops seemed to mark the passage of time in a formless dimension.
Then came absolute silence… and after it, a strong, deep, resonant voice, almost divine:
—Wake up, Keichi...
In that moment, an intense migraine shattered Jiro's artificial calm. Everything blurred. His perception fragmented.
His consciousness was pulled into a strange place, a kind of infinite corridor lit by a dim light, where the walls were covered in paintings of all sizes.
Each one contained a face, but they were all scribbled over with dark distortions that made them unrecognizable, as if the memories themselves had been tainted.
In the middle of that corridor, Jiro saw himself. Not as the oni he had always been. This version was different. He had long hair, a scholar's robe in muted colors, and no horns on his head.
He looked completely human. His expression was blank, confused, as if he didn't understand what he was witnessing. He touched his hair, then his face. Everything was different.
—This… isn't my body? —he whispered, with a voice that didn't seem like his.
And then he said it aloud, with someone else's voice:
—My full name is… Keichi Xie Ming (恵一 谢明)...
He pulled a small, cracked, old mirror from his robes. He tried to look at himself in it. But his reflection was also covered in scribbles that distorted his face. He couldn't see his own eyes or recognize his existence.
—I can't remember… —he said coldly—. Who the hell is Jiro Kamimizu? And why can't I see my reflection?
Suddenly, a sharp pain struck him. He fell to his knees, clutching his head as the mirror slipped from his hand and shattered completely on the corridor floor. Desperation consumed him, but there was also a silent determination. With a trembling voice, he murmured:
—I have to leave now… I have to complete my mission…
When he looked up, his hands were covered in blood. He was no longer in the corridor. He was in a room filled with bodies, blood everywhere, and in his hand was a sword still hot from battle.
He walked silently among the corpses. His face was still covered in those dark scribbles, but his mind was cold, mechanical.
—Well done, Xie Ming —said a voice from the shadows, followed by slow, mocking applause—. Now, Keichi… bring me the Stone of Rebirth.
In his hand appeared a golden stone, vibrant, radiant, as if it contained the essence of a star. It was pure Chi and Tae energy. Keichi looked up and replied, emotionless:
—I won't give it to you. That stone isn't yours.
The man chuckled.
—What did you say? I think you forget who you are. You're nothing but a killer, Keichi. A worthless agent, a tool designed to kill. Nothing in this world belongs to you.
Keichi looked down at the stone and answered in an even colder voice:
—I know that better than anyone… I have no value in this world. But that doesn't mean I belong to you. The Chi Tae energy I've absorbed over the years… I stole it from the divine sages of the Holy Heaven.
His voice grew even sharper, hollow, lifeless.
—This stone… is the only thing that can give me what I've always been denied… a true identity.
Suddenly, another sharp pain pierced him. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his head as he screamed:
—It hurts! It hurts so much…!
The scribbles over his face began to fade slowly, revealing crimson eyes with elongated reptilian pupils, intense and filled with emptiness. The man's voice turned somber.
—Forget everything… complete your mission… Assassin Agent.
And then, Jiro opened his eyes.
Or so they thought.
His eyelids parted slightly, but his gaze was completely blank, disconnected. In front of him stood Saria, Elliott, and Guilo, the small time owl that accompanied the sage.
—He finally woke up! —exclaimed Guilo.
Saria rushed over immediately, tears in her eyes and a trembling smile on her lips.
—I'm so glad you're awake, Jiro… tell me, how do you feel? I'm glad you're alive…
But Jiro didn't respond. He looked at his hands as if he didn't recognize them. He looked around the cave, the snow… everything as if it were foreign.
—Where… am I? —he thought—. What is this? Who… are they?
Elliott frowned.
—Jiro? Are you alright? You should rest. You're not fully recovered yet.
Guilo flapped his wings with concern.
—Master… something is wrong here…
Suddenly, Jiro grabbed the crimson spear beside him. In a swift, perfect motion, he leapt and spun, placing the spear directly at Saria's neck, in a precise, deadly martial stance. He was not the same.
—Who the hell are you people? Where the hell am I? —he shouted, with a murderous, emotionless gaze.
Saria froze, swallowing hard.
—Ji-Jiro… why are you doing this?
—Calm down! —shouted Elliott, raising both hands—. Don't do anything crazy… put that down now.
But there was no mercy. With a brutal blow to the stomach, Jiro knocked Saria unconscious to the ground.
Elliott barely had time to react before Jiro, cloaked in crimson lightning, vanished from the cave with superhuman speed, leaving only a burst of electric energy.
—What the hell just happened!? —yelled Elliott, rushing to Saria.
Guilo lowered his head gravely.
—Master… I'm afraid that wasn't Jiro.
—What are you saying…?
—What we saw… was a fragment of a memory embedded in his soul.
At that moment, amid the snowfall and thunder, Jiro advanced through the blizzard. His body was wrapped in crimson Chi Tae energy. He held his spear as if it were a natural extension of himself.
His steps led him directly toward the Glacial Tree, a colossal structure growing atop the skeletal skull of the World Dragon.
—Why… is there so much snow? —he whispered.
The fog was dense, but his electric aura lit the surroundings. He looked up toward the tree's canopy.
—I need… to recover my memories. If I don't… I won't be able to complete my mission…
At the Glacial Cathedral, an imposing man with an ice sword watched him from above. The Hail King, an ancient being, rose with a frigid expression.
—I knew you'd return… But… what is this? Why do I feel Chi Tae energy… from another being?
Jiro ascended, flying with the power erupting from within him. His eyes were like red torches in the snow. As he rose, he murmured in his mind with devastating conviction:
—I'm going to complete my mission… no matter what. Even if… I have to destroy this entire universe…
And then, with a colossal leap, the Hail King intercepted him. His eyes, blue as ice, locked onto his.
—Who are you… or what are you?! —he shouted as he swung his sword.
Jiro blocked the strike with the shaft of his spear. The clash unleashed a brutal shockwave. The sky trembled, the snow dispersed under the pressure. Two Chi Tae energies roared: one blue, icy and divine… the other red, electric and uncontrollable.
In that instant… the whole world held its breath.