Kairo felt it before anyone else—the shift.
A stillness heavier than death itself, pressing down on the battlefield like an unseen hand.
The air had turned thick, grey clouds swirling unnaturally above, blotting out what little light remained.
Soldiers on both sides froze, their instincts screaming. Weapons lowered. Mouths opened, but no words came.
Then—
Crack.
Lightning surged.
Kairo's sword instinctively rose to guard, but not in time.
A flash of white thunder slammed into him, faster than thought, faster than sound.
Sparks erupted across the blade as he skidded back, boots carving into stone.
He barely caught his breath when a second strike came.
Time seemed to fold.
A figure twisted midair like a coiled serpent, foot enveloped in spiraling lightning—
—and drove a thunderous kick into Kairo's gut.
The impact shattered the silence.
Dust exploded outward in a shockwave. Kairo's body flew back violently, grinding through the earth before smashing into the mountainside with a deafening crack.
A crater bloomed behind him.
Above the chaos, floating down like a wraith of white fury—
Stood a boy.
Young. Maybe 16.
His hair pure white, wild like a storm untamed. A black shirt clung to his slim frame, soaked in static. Combat-grade military pants tucked into reinforced boots crackled with Veil-charged electricity.
He twisted his shoulder with a loud pop as if resetting it.
"Thanks for stalling this guy," he muttered to Daeho's squad without turning his head, voice casual yet cold.
Then, stepping forward, shoulders squared and knuckles crackling—
"I'll take care of things now."
A jagged trail of lightning scorched the ground as he vanished.
Before Kairo could process the words, the boy was already in front of him.
Boom.
Another strike.
A straight punch.
But the sheer speed turned it into a cannon blast.
Kairo was launched again—this time crashing clean through the mountain.
Stone splintered in every direction, the sky briefly disappearing behind a rising wall of dust and debris.
Lightning spread like roots across the broken land.
---
Who is this kid...?
That speed. I couldn't track it.
Not even the wind warned me—he moved faster than instinct itself.
He clenched his jaw, focusing.
Veil energy surged to his right side, hardening the muscle seconds before the next blow came.
I can't block him. Not yet.
---
The White Howl didn't stop.
He reappeared behind Kairo, friction building along his arm, heating the air with each spiraling rotation.
He launched a clean punch straight into Kairo's liver, ripping air from his lungs. Kairo grunted, boots dragging but not falling.
The boy was already in the air again.
A second later, a giant spear of lightning formed above him—spinning, unstable, glowing with dense Veil charge.
He hurled it down.
BOOM.
The spear struck.
The ground ruptured, splitting open like it had been cleaved by a god. Dust shot up like a volcano.
Everything vanished into smoke, rubble, and flame.
---
Silence again.
Only the wind. And the sound of slow, crackling static.
The White Howl turned back to the others—Juno, Ayen, and the stunned soldiers watching from the ridge.
He lifted a thumb in triumph.
But—
A glint.
A sharp whistle through the air.
A blade flew past him, grazing his cheek.
He blinked.
A single drop of blood rolled down.
He turned. Slowly.
Back to the crater.
Where nothing should have been left standing.
But Kairo was there.
Standing.
His eyes half-shadowed. His skin dirtied, bruised, torn—but his posture perfect.
And in his hand—
Not his katana.
A spear.
Unlike anything on the battlefield.
Smooth obsidian shaft. Cracks of gold running like veins along its surface. The tip shimmered, bending the air around it like heat.
But the true terror was what followed:
He didn't throw it.
He stabbed the air itself.
The tip tore open reality—
A rift bloomed in front of him, a hole of sheer nothingness.
And from that rift—
Other weapons began to fall.
Blades. Spears. Axes. Scythes. Swords that pulsed with Veil energy from forgotten ages.
A silent rain of legendary death.
They hovered in the air around him, slowly circling. Each one called from a different memory, each one tied to a different piece of him.
---
"...I was going to hold back."
He raised his chin slightly, eyes locked with the White Howl.
"But i guess, you're going all out."
He twisted the spear slightly, and every weapon behind him aligned like soldiers before war.
"This time, we'll fight for real."
---