Chapter 6: Chapter Five – Ashes Beneath Iron, Part II: The Teeth of Black Fang

Chapter Five – Ashes Beneath Iron, Part II: The Teeth of Black Fang

Day 229 of the Twelvefold Cycle

Era of Concordance, Year 812 – Deep Duskhorn | Early Morning

----------------------------------------

The first rays of pale sunlight bled across the swamp horizon, casting long shadows between crooked trees and the moss-stained stones that ringed the campsite.

The fire was out. Nothing remained but a bed of damp ash and cold charcoal. The air was thick — not just humid, but suffocating. Every breath tasted of mildew and rot.

All the beastkin children were still asleep, curled in a tight crescent formation — just as Kaelira had arranged the night before. Their small bodies twitched beneath worn cloaks, twitching ears flicking at phantom insects. Peaceful, but only just.

Ruki stirred to the sound of her own stomach growling. A low, pitiful groan — loud enough to make her flinch.

Her eyes cracked open, sticky with sleep. She yawned hard, breath catching halfway through as she sat up and rubbed her face with the back of her hand. Her ears twitched at the noise, and her tail stretched out with a tired flick, brushing against the patchy dirt beneath her.

“Ahh…” she sighed, blinking into the new light. For a moment, she just sat there — legs stretched, arms overhead, spine cracking. She wiggled her toes beneath the frayed wrappings that barely passed for footwear.

It still felt surreal.

To wake up and feel everything — fingers, toes, pain in her knees — without tubes, without wires. Without the heavy whir of hospital machines filling the silence.

She wasn’t used to waking up and actually being alive.

So much had changed since those sterile days in Room 406.

She finally stood, brushing dried moss off her thighs, and took a slow glance around. The kids hadn’t stirred. Mar-Mar lay curled near a stone ridge, tail wrapped around his body like a sentinel in false slumber. Kaelira, of course, was already up — seated beside the burned-out fire, staring into the direction of the rising light. Her blade was across her lap.

Ruki tilted her head.

Does she ever sleep?

Ruki thought to her self as her stomach grumbled again, sharper this time. She sighed and reached into her satchel, pulling out one of the two remaining pieces of bread — damp, slightly green, and already sprouting a fuzzy patch near the corner.

“Ugh. Gross…” she muttered.

She didn’t hesitate. She pinched her nose, braced herself — and took the biggest bite she could manage without breathing.

The moldy texture clung to her teeth. She chewed like she was gnawing old leather. The taste was bitter — paper soaked in swamp water.

In the game, rotten food wasn’t the end of the world. You ate it, lost a few stats, and moved on. No taste penalties. No gag reflex.

But this?

This wasn’t Untold Eternity. And she could taste everything.

She fought the urge to spit it out, forced it down, then reached for the other piece before her will broke entirely.

Halfway through the second bite, she glanced sideways toward Kaelira — then finally spoke, voice low and dry.

“…Thanks for removing the cuffs last night,” she mumbled, swallowing hard.

Kaelira looked over slowly. She paused — just for a moment — then answered in her usual cool, practical tone.

“No worries. You don’t want to be a walking target with those on. Vendors won’t speak to beastkin wearing slave gear. The cuffs mark you as claimed.”

Ruki nodded once, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, brushing dust off her tattered tunic as she turned away.

Kaelira didn’t answer. Her eyes had already drifted back toward the trees — watching, waiting, calculating.

Ruki didn’t mind.

Not everyone needed to speak in the morning.

Some of them were still figuring out how to live.

Ruki now trying to manage not to vomit as the stench of the mold bread reeked in her mouth.

The sour rot crawled up her throat like bile-wrapped guilt, and she gagged through her nose to keep it down. A few swamp flies buzzed near her face, drawn to the decay. She waved them off half-heartedly.

She needed to get away from the group while it was still early. She needed to answer questions that only she could answer — and she didn’t need many around to do that. Mar-Mar might sense her presence gone due to their shared bond, but that was fine.

The sun was still low, burning a soft gold behind the veiled swamp canopy. Tree shadows stretched like long claws across the forest floor, filtering through hanging moss and fog-thick air. She moved quickly, stepping over twisted roots and spongy moss patches that squished under her worn soles.

Ruki continued to walk further away from the camp, closer to the path they cleared earlier. It was far from the main site, but they had passed a very slim creek along the way. She followed the sound of trickling water, winding past weeping trees and shallow pools full of insect larvae.

The first word in her mind was:

Bath. Bath. Bath.

Ruki stunk — badly. Her teal braids were tangled with grime and dried algae. Small bugs crawled along the tips of her ears, and her tail dragged sluggishly behind her, matted in wet, gray swamp filth. Every step made her wince — not from pain, but shame.

Her skin felt layered in swamp scum. Even the wind didn’t touch her properly. It was like the air was too thick to move.

“I wonder what Misaki is doing now…” she thought aloud, voice cracked.

She was the only one Ruki missed. The only one who mattered back in Saitama. That image of her former guildmates dragging the truth into the light — exposing her parents — was satisfying. But the fallout? The silence that followed?

She wondered if Misaki still had her job. If she still hummed that soft tune as she walked the halls at shift change.

A huge sigh escaped her chapped lips as she shook her head and snapped, louder this time:

“Snap out of it.”

It echoed faintly across the water.

She wasn’t homesick. She was Misaki-sick. That hum — that sweet, humming lullaby they shared in code — it lingered in her bones more than the mold in her mouth.

The guilt sat heavy in her chest. Knowing those days were gone. Knowing that kindness might never return.

She unclothed with slow, stiff fingers and stepped into the creek.

It was freezing.

But blissfully clean.

The fresh river water was cold — shocking — but good. It soaked into her skin like penance. Her breath left her lungs in a ragged exhale.

“Ahh… now that hits the spot…”

The banks were overgrown with thorny vines and fungus-dotted stones. A bullfrog croaked somewhere downstream, followed by the flutter of night-bats retreating to rotted tree hollows.

She ducked under and resurfaced, teal hair clinging to her back like seaweed. Her ears flicked to clear the water, and her tail floated like a ribbon behind her.

She was used to cold baths. That hospital chill. The kind that cut through bone but kept her alive. Her body had never known warmth for long.

“Now let’s see…” she muttered, waving her hand in front of her face.

A shimmer of faint blue appeared midair — translucent and soft, like the game once showed her.

The UI flickered to life. Familiar. Real.

Her first thoughts were simple: What am I allowed to do? How much freedom do I actually have here?

She tapped through the tabs carefully, scanning to see if she could check the time and month like in Untold Eternity.

Calendar & Time:

[ACCESS DENIED]

“Of course not. It would’ve been too easy if that was given to me.”

She sighed, resting her arms on a smooth stone at the edge of the creek.

Without the calendar, she couldn’t plan routes. Couldn’t farm boss-class beasts tied to weather cycles or moon phases. No XP surge alerts. No spawn events.

She opened her Player Stats tab next:

> [SYSTEM INTERFACE: RESTORED]

>

> Status: Ruki Yusato

>

> Class: Beast Lord

>

> Level: 3

>

> Mana: 130 / 250 (Unstable)

>

> Health: ~ 190 / 225

>

> Stamina: 75 / 200

>

> Strength: 20 (+2)

>

> Agility: 32

>

> Intellect: 29 (41)

>

> Dexterity: 21

>

> Willpower: 25

>

> Resistance: 19

>

> Luck: 18 (1+)

>

> (+12 bonus when near Mar-Mar: 41 total)

>

> Known Spells:

>

> – Copy: Magic Mastery (Halved Cast)

>

> – Hollow Step (Tier 1)

>

> – Flicker Shock (Tier 2)

>

> Ultimate: Crest Dualcast: Stormveil Howl

>

> Passive: Beastkin Royal Resonance (Stable)

>

> Relics: Durecast Earrings [Unlocked]

>

> Aegis Code [Sealed]

>

> Bond: Active — Marzha’ren of the Whiteveil

>

> Tactical Synchronization: +12 INT boost within 15m of bonded beast

The system pulsed, and the interface hovered above the water like a reflection that didn’t belong.

The sunlight had started to crawl across the canopy now, and patches of golden light cut through the trees. They glinted off the surface of the water — and off her bare skin.

Her hand brushed across her cheekbone, eyes scanning the data.

“It seems I can place stats where I choose… just like Untold Eternity,” she murmured.

She dismissed the screen just as her hand hovered over the Equipment tab.

A sound broke through the ferns.

She tensed.

Her tail flicked. Her ears tilted.

Rustling. Low. Deliberate.

Ambush… monster—?

She slid deeper into the creek, just enough to mask her silhouette. Her fingers twitched, ready to cast despite low mana.

Then — the voice.

“Relax. It’s me.”

Kaelira.

The elf emerged like mist made flesh — silent, coiled, unreadable. Her outfit looked scavenged from a mercenary band — muted greys, high-collared, travel-worn. No armor, but every movement was surgical. Assassin-grade.

She held a folded bundle in one hand.

“Put this on,” she said coolly. “Even without cuffs, rags mark you. Traders and guards see them and assume ownership.”

She didn’t elaborate.

Ruki caught the gear and stared at her silently.

“I’ll return to camp. Once you’re dressed, we move. If we pace right, we’ll reach the Black Fang gates by sundown.”

She turned and disappeared into the brush, her footsteps inaudible even on wet leaves.

Ruki exhaled slowly.

“Okay then…”

She laid the outfit over a mossy log.

Her eyes narrowed.

Something was off.

She felt it before she touched it — that faint thrum of lingering magic.

> Shade Mark Target Sigil

Tracker rune. Traced to the caster. Only visible to Tier 7+… or certain divine traits.

“Does she think I can’t see it?” she muttered.

She didn’t move for a moment.

Then nodded slowly.

“She plays her hand quiet… but that’s a bold move.”

She studied the threads, traced the weave. The sigil was subtle — buried near the waist hem.

“I sense bullshit,” she muttered, “but I’ll play along.”

She dried herself with the driest cloth she had, then slowly began dressing.

The leather armor was snug. Flexible. Lightweight. It moved like water when she shifted. Too well-fitted to be random.

“I’ll check the UI again later. Wanted to see if crafting’s unlocked. I can’t count on random loot anymore. If I die waiting on monster drops, I’ll deserve it.”

She buckled the strap across her chest.

“This world’s not a game.”

A breath.

“But I’m still me.”

A grin tugged at her lips, crooked and tired.

“I’m KirinRai, dammit.”

She chuckled faintly.

“Sae would be glimmering right now if he saw me prepping a build with crafting in mind.”

She tied her hair back, grabbed her satchel, and turned toward the trees.

As she took her first step…

She paused.

“…Still no monsters.”

A few swamp crows screeched in the distance, but nothing hostile stirred.

She smirked, glancing up toward where she knew Mar-Mar was silently was silently watching.

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Day 229 of the Twelvefold Cycle

Era of Concordance, Year 812 – Deep Duskhorn | Morning

Ruki walked slowly, boots whispering over damp grass, her new armor catching faint glints of filtered sunlight as it pierced the treeline above. The wind had shifted — still muggy, still rich with fungal haze, but no longer hostile. More alive.

The Whisperwind Brigandine draped her frame with graceful confidence. Sapphire-blue fabric swayed with each step, its twin feathered sashes brushing her hips like ceremonial tails. The tunic’s layered knots sat snug across her chest, and the rune-belt at her waist pulsed with low mana — not strong enough to trigger effects, but undeniably awake. Waiting.

Gone were the rags of the camps.

Gone were the chains.

And with them… that girl she’d been forced to be.

“I walk again,” she murmured under her breath, brushing her fingers across the layered wrap. “Not as KirinRai… but this time, as me.”

As her boot pressed into a smooth patch of moss, the familiar soft ding echoed in her vision.

> [SYSTEM INTERFACE: RESTORED]

>

> — Equipment Tab Opened

>

> [Current Gear]

>

> * Whisperwind Brigandine

>

> “Lighter than a feather but stronger than steel.”

>

> Rumored to carry the secrets of the wind.

>

> ✦ T4 Passive: Aero Dancer

>

>  → +25% movement speed to user and allies within 5m

>

>  → Drawback: HP drains slowly while active

>

> [DEBUFF DETECTED]

>

> * Shade Mark Sigil

>

> A tracking spell is embedded in this item.

>

> → You are now visible to the caster.

>

> → DEX Check: 30+ to Reveal Caster

>

> → Ruki’s DEX: 21 → [Check Failed]

She stared at the pulsing icon, jaw tight. Then scoffed under her breath.

“Of course she tagged it.”

She could’ve pressed further — traced the mana, dissected the weave. But Kaelira’s choice to make the mark so obvious? That said more than any stealth tactic could.

Why track me unless you’re planning to lose sight of me? Or ensuring you never do?

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

She didn’t trust it.

But she respected it.

A shimmer of gold curled at the edges of her vision — the Durecast Earrings. Always there. Always watching.

“I don’t know what I’ll walk into at Black Fang,” she murmured, stepping lightly over a gnarled root, “but if Deadbolt taught me anything… it’s control.”

The faintest smile twitched at her mouth.

Deadbolt — her guild’s undead necromancer. Professor in real life. Cynic in chat. Genius in battle. He used to layer five debuffs before his enemies even realized combat had begun.

“I can’t play the backline anymore… Not without their shields. Their wards. Their voices.”

She ran a hand back through her still-damp teal braids.

“I have to become the first strike.”

With a flick of her hand, the Skill Tree tab opened.

> [You Have: 2 Unspent Ability Points]

>

> → Opening Tree: Lightning

>

> * Tier 3 Unlock: Twinbolt Specters

>

>  ✦ Summons Three ephemeral storm beasts of black lightning

>

>  ✦ Each targets a separate enemy within 15m

>

>  ✦ On hit: Disrupt (3s), Stagger (2s), High shock damage

>

>  ✦ Dual hit: Damage stacks

>

>  ✦ Cooldown: 40s

>

> → Crest Upgrade (Future):

>

> Stormveil Maw – Beasts evolve into semi-sentient divine familiars.

>

> Syncs with INT + Bond stats for combo casting with Mar-Mar.

The moment she confirmed the selection, a ripple of faint static danced over her skin — not enough to spark danger, but enough to make her tail flick on instinct.

She smirked. “Still love that one…”

> → Opening Tree: Runic Traps

>

> * Tier 1 Passive: Field Sigil Weaving

>

>  Allows user to embed runes into conductive objects

>

>  Scales with INT + DEX

>

> * Tier 1 Active: Gleaming Sigil – Restraint Glyph

>

>  Imbue a metal object with a proximity-trigger stun rune

>

>  Effect: Root + Silence (3s)

>

>  Radius: 2.5m

>

>  Max Traps: 3 stored

A smaller tab pulsed to life.

> [ITEMS LOST]

* > Tattered Slave-Issue Rags — [Auto-Dropped]

* > Rust-Worn Shackles — [Removed]

* > 2x Spoiled Bread

Ruki tilted her head at the list. So unequipped items stayed logged?

Her eyes hovered over the shackle entry.

Right. She’d asked Kaelira to remove them the night before. There’d been no incantation, no flash of magic — just a faint click, like a blade sliding free from a lock.

Rogue-tier sleight of hand, she figured. Blade flick, tension release. Clean. Precise.

She hadn’t even considered magic.

Not yet.

She dismissed the interface and looked ahead.

The camp was only a few paces away now.

The fire was little more than a smoldering nub. The others were starting to stir.

Kaelira sat exactly where she’d been before — unmoving. Still watching.

But something in the air had shifted.

No ambient threats. No monsters.

Just… stillness. And control.

Her eyes flicked upward, toward the canopy. She could feel it — Mar-Mar’s divine aura. Just faintly. Not visible. But very real.

“…Better than repel powder,” she muttered. “But if I don’t talk to him about lowering that presence soon, I won’t be able to level at all.”

His aura kept the threats at bay.

But it kept growth at bay too.

Another conversation for later.

She adjusted the rune-belt at her hips, the feathered sashes trailing like phantom blades in the wind.

She wasn’t the girl who’d collapsed last night.

Her spells had changed.

Her loadout had shifted.

And for the first time…

Her future was hers.

“I better get going,” she whispered, breath leaving her in one last hush. “Black Fang won’t wait.”

She stepped past the last ring of moss — her silhouette catching briefly in the morning glare.

No longer just a survivor.

But something more.

Ruki stepped back into camp just as the morning mist began to thin. Most of the gear had already been packed. The campfire was out, its pit cold and scattered with faint ash. The Beastkin children, once drowsy and half-stirred, were now gathered in a tight cluster — eating quietly from salvaged rations. But something felt off.

Their formation had shifted.

There was a second pack near the trail — a travel bundle she didn’t recognize. And the children? They weren’t where Kaelira had said they’d regroup. Instead, they were positioned near a side path, one not part of last night’s plan.

Kaelira sat at the edge of the ridge, as still as stone, her back straight and blade resting across her lap. Mar-Mar stood nearby, tail curled calmly around his paws, but his eyes flicked up the instant Ruki came into view.

Neither of them spoke at first.

Her new armor caught the sun with every step — the Whisperwind Brigandine flowing elegantly across her body. The twin feathered sashes at her hips danced like phantom tails, and the rune-belt at her waist pulsed with faint mana hums.

“You look good,” Kaelira said flatly, her voice unreadable. Her eyes lingered for half a second before drifting away — almost too quickly, as if hiding something.

“I already informed Mar-Mar what I’ve been thinking,” she continued, tone turning razor-thin. “While you were away, I decided it’s best we split up. We’ll regroup at Black Fang.”

Ruki blinked, caught between confusion and rising irritation. “Why the sudden change?”

Kaelira hesitated — only for a breath. “There’s someone I’m meeting inside the city. An old contact who can help escort the children from here safely.” She paused. “Also… I need to handle something alone.”

Her lips pressed together. She didn’t say the rest aloud.

You’re not ready for my help yet.

The thought sat heavy in Kaelira’s chest, even if she didn’t voice it. Ruki had potential, but potential wasn’t enough in Black Fang. If the girl wasn’t willing to do what needed to be done, she’d only slow Kaelira down. And that… wasn’t something she could afford.

Kaelira stood slowly, eyes avoiding Ruki’s.

“We’ll meet again,” she said. “First night of Gavemire. Find a place called The Whining Moon. Ask for Ethel — Beastkin, like you. Stronger than you’d expect.”

Ruki’s expression flickered between questions and restraint, but she nodded. She didn’t trust all of Kaelira’s words — but she didn’t distrust them either. They both had their walls.

Mar-Mar finally stepped forward, his eyes meeting Ruki’s.

“When we get closer to the gates, I’ll enter Soulbound Form,” he said calmly. “It’ll allow me to stay hidden — linked to you. No one will sense me unless I want them to.”

She nodded back, understanding immediately. “You’ll lose some power while bound.”

“Yes. You’ll no longer receive the intelligence boost while I’m sealed. But the risk of being hunted outweighs the benefit of open strength.”

It was the most he’d said all morning — but the message was loud and clear.

Ruki turned her eyes toward the children again. They were speaking quietly in Beastkin tongue — soft syllables, fluid and unfamiliar. She couldn’t understand any of it.

I need to learn that, she thought. I’m not the smartest in this world anymore. Not by default.

There were spells she’d never heard of. Relics that hadn’t existed in Untold Eternity. Mythic beasts that may be real now — not just part of code and patch notes.

This world was alive. Dangerous. And constantly changing.

Kaelira moved toward her, almost hesitantly.

“One last thing,” she muttered. “That armor… it’s enchanted.”

Her words caught halfway, and she visibly shifted her stance. “It was… given to me.”

Ruki noticed the slip. The way Kaelira tried to reframe whatever truth was buried beneath that sentence.

What are you hiding… and why does it sound like guilt?

Kaelira pushed on. “The Aero Dancer effect is built into it. Activate it and your movement speed increases. If you follow the paven rubble path beyond this ridge, you’ll spot the Black Fang border. Shouldn’t be hard.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You said you know this world. Then don’t make me regret trusting you.”

Those words hit harder than expected — sharp and veiled.

Ruki clenched her jaw.

Kaelira turned, calling out the final instructions with her back turned.

“Don’t overuse that gear. It’ll be your casket if you’re careless. We’ll see you soon — remember the tavern, and remember the name.”

The children began to move, their formation organized now — still heading toward Black Fang, but at a different angle. Kaelira was taking a detour. One that Ruki wasn’t invited to.

She didn’t mind.

Not completely.

“You ready?” she asked, glancing sideways at Mar-Mar.

The mythic beast gave a small nod.

He stepped closer, and with a soft surge of golden-blue light, his form began to dissolve — not into mist, but into something deeper. Like his body folded into her very soul.

A shimmer rippled across her arm where the feathers of her sash met bare skin.

[Soulbound Form Activated]

Marzha’ren of the Whiteveil

Ruki inhaled.

The interface flickered gently as if sensing the change. Her body felt lighter. Less complete — but more concealed.

She flexed her fingers. Shifted her stance. Then tapped the rune-belt at her waist.

“Aero Dancer,” she whispered.

The enchantment flared — silent, sharp, and immediate. Wind curled around her calves, lifting the sashes with a phantom breeze. Her boots barely touched the ground.

Everything slowed around her.

The treeline blurred.

Ruki took one final look toward the path Kaelira had vanished into.

Then she ran — a streak of blue between swamp and stone — toward the gates of Black Fang.

Faster than the others.

Faster than the doubt.

For the first time… she was leading the way.

----------------------------------------

LATER THAT EVENING

Evening fog curled along the roads like coiled rope, soft and sticky with river mist.

Black Fang — jewel of the Syndicate’s southern reach — stood defiant where the twin forks of the Cryden River met. A sprawling city of concentric walls and river-fed veins, each inner circle older, richer, and more dangerous than the last. The South Gate, known as Trade Fang, was the broadest of the four — a lawless artery pulsing with merchants, smugglers, and guards with pockets too deep to check.

But tonight, it wasn’t trade wagons causing the delay.

It was the silence before the boil.

Pressed tight along the bridge leading into the city arch, Syndicate guards had stalled all foot traffic — not to control it, but to watch. Some leaned on their pikes. Others whispered bets.

Tension clung to the crowd like wet smoke.

At the center, alone and cornered, was a goblin girl.

Willow Nix — silver-green braids half undone, cloak dragging at her shoulder, boots scuffed and wet. Her sharp eyes flicked across the narrowing ring of faces around her. Caravans had halted. Footsteps had stopped. No one was leaving the bridge now.

She kept walking backward — slow, tense — her heel skidding over a loose cobble.

“I don’t have it, alright? Why are you even chasing me?” she snapped.

“You think every short girl with a braid stole your little scroll?”

Her voice cracked like flint. Defensive. Tired. A little too loud to be casual.

Her fingers twitched at her side — like they wanted to grab something, anything.

She forced a crooked smile, but it pulled tighter with every step. Her breath came sharp through her nose.

I can’t go home unless I get that relic back…

And if I die here, no one’s gonna care.

The thought churned under her ribs, heavy and bitter.

She scanned the guards again. Not a twitch.

Then her eyes snapped back — to him.

Malfur Dikaiosýni.

He stood like a siege tower, blocking the light behind him.

His white braid swung over one shoulder, the sides of his head buzzed clean.

The veins on his neck flexed with heat.

His halberd glowed ember-orange — runes blazing across the haft like living script.

And his left arm… it burned. Crisscrossed with Pactmarks, the skin shimmered red-hot from shoulder to palm.

He was barely breathing. Only glaring.

“You lying goblin filth…” he said low, stepping forward.

“You ditch halfway through a paid contract, and a Tier Five scroll just happens to vanish?”

His boots struck the stone with hard purpose.

Willow stiffened, palms up — feigned innocence on full display.

“I don’t have your scroll, Mally,” she said, shrugging. “You’re chasing shadows.”

She turned, arms spread wide toward the crowd now circling the tension like flies.

“Anyone here see me pick a scroll? No? Just you?”

She turned back, brow cocked.

“So tell me again why a Fang-rank badass is throwing a tantrum in public over misplaced paper?”

A ripple of nervous laughter broke out — brief and scattered.

That grin came back to her lips, just a little sharper.

“What’s next, you gonna whine to the guards? Or cry into your rank badge?”

Malfur’s knuckles clenched on his halberd, jaw flexing tight.

Then he said it.

“Gob-flesh whore. Should’ve drowned you with the rest of your breeding den.”

The rune lit instantly.

Above him, a three-ringed flame sigil bloomed — wild, spiraling, seething with unstable heat. Sparks cracked across the cobblestones. The canal water behind him hissed. The heat didn’t just rise — it pulsed.

> [ Tier 6: Searing Howl ]

>

> AoE Flame Pulse + Panic Debuff (2s)

A wave of raw magical pressure slammed through the air.

Several in the crowd staggered — one vendor dropped his fruit crate, another woman screamed. A child burst into tears. The guards by the edge of the bridge flinched, reaching for weapons too late.

Even Willow took one full step back — her pupils dilating.

This wasn’t a warning shot. It was an execution.

And no one moved.

“He’s casting Tier Six?”

“Here?!”

“That’s a battlefield spell—!”

“She’s just a kid, he’ll vaporize her—!”

The fear wasn’t just social. It was in them. In their bones.

The debuff hit wide. Even the guards froze.

Willow’s breath caught.

I’m gonna die here.

In the dirt. For a scroll I already lost.

That was all she heard — Mar-Mar’s voice etched into her mind like a blade across glass.

But her body was already moving.

Boots struck the mossy stone path like gunfire, each impact echoing with thunderous intent. Her breath was tight in her chest, vision locked on the bridge ahead where the goblin girl stood — frozen. Paralyzed. Fear-struck.

What am I doing?

She didn’t know her. But she knew that expression — wide eyes locked in terror, limbs refusing to move. That feeling of helplessness.

Malfur’s spell was already roaring to life. Crimson glyphs swirled beneath his feet, casting jagged, flickering light across the platform. A tier-six spell — Searing Howl — its aura was expanding in waves of blistering heat and mental suppression.

Every second it charged, its radius widened.

And the girl couldn’t move.

> [SYSTEM INTERFACE: OPENED]

>

> Her shimmering blue UI flared into view — just like in Untold Eternity.

>

> ➤ Spell: [Searing Howl – Tier VI]

>

> ➤ Charge Time: 12 seconds

>

> ➤ Current Charge: 4.3s

>

> ➤ Active Debuff Radius: 12.5m (Fear + Stun)

>

> ➤ Stacking per second: +0.5m

>

> ➤ Next Expansion: [1.7s]

“I can still see cooldowns…” Ruki whispered.

Her feet never stopped.

> ➤ Agility: 32

>

> ➤ Aero Dancer Active: +25% Speed Buff

>

> ➤ Movement Prediction: Arrival in 2.4s

>

> [COUNTDOWN: 6]

She clenched her teeth, and her thoughts snapped to two people.

Valen and Sae.

Valen — fiery. Headstrong. Human Blade Dancer. Would charge headfirst into a storm if it meant saving someone.

Sae — Elven Enchanter. Tactical. Sharp-tongued when needed. Kind to the core. He taught her to look at the whole board.

They were the reason she ever knew family.

The ones who made her believe she deserved one.

The ones who told her:

“You’re allowed to save people, even when no one else will.”

[COUNTDOWN: 5]

She could almost hear Valen shouting, “You gonna let a brat die with a spell in her face?! MOVE, Ruki!”

“DAMMIT—” she hissed and slammed her heel down.

[SKILL ACTIVATED: AERO DANCER]

Wind exploded beneath her boots. Mana surged through her thighs and spine as she launched forward, her silhouette warping with speed. She crouched low, arms pumping, sprinting with explosive acceleration.

The sashes from her Whisperwind Brigandine snapped behind her like flags in a storm.

Every step left trails of light — crack! crack! crack! — and the cobbled stones beneath her feet chipped from the force of her speed.

Gasps rang out. The crowd roared.

A Beastkin — glowing, sprinting like a bolt of vengeance — heading for a human-held circle.

[COUNTDOWN: 4]

Malfur’s head jerked.

He saw her.

His brows furrowed. His hands faltered for just a second — not enough.

His spell kept charging.

[COUNTDOWN: 3]

“Hang on—” Ruki shouted, voice nearly lost in the rising whine of fire magic.

The heat warped the air ahead. Her eyes burned. Sweat streaked her temples. But she didn’t slow.

The goblin girl’s lips trembled. Her body was locked by the spell’s fear — still stacking, second by second.

[COUNTDOWN: 2]

Not enough time.

Unless…

“Only one way to do this…”

She reached her hand out as sparks flickered around her.

[DURECAST RELICS — PRIMED]

Her lightning roared to life.

Now!

[ABILITY TRIGGERED: AEGIS CODE – BEASTKIN PASSIVE]

Six translucent rings spun into place mid-stride, aligning around her body and the goblin girl like orbiting shields. The instant the first lick of fire from Searing Howl crashed down—

BOOM—!

The impact split the air like a cannon. Fire swelled in all directions—

—but it didn’t break through.

The rings held.

They shimmered. Pulsed. Neutralized.

Ruki was grounded in a low stance, arms shielding the girl, her Durecast earrings glowing white-hot.

[STATUS: SPELL ABSORBED]

She inhaled sharply.

> Copy: Magic Mastery.

A pulse of red-gold energy circled her palm — and just like that, Searing Howl became hers.

> [Spell Copied: Searing Howl (Tier 3 Conversion) — Single Use]

She didn’t waste it.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

> [CASTING: Searing Howl — REDIRECTED]

A violent arc of fire ripped forward from her hand — not to kill, but to force a move.

Malfur’s ego flared. The moment the spell came at him, his lips twisted in a sneer.

He brought his blade up to slice through the incoming fire, scowling—

But he didn’t know.

He never realized.

The moment he made contact with his own spell, now recast and redirected—

[DEBUFF TRIGGERED: Fear + Stun (3s)]

“Ughh—!” His body froze mid-swing.

The crowd screamed.

Gasps. Whispers. Audible chaos.

A human caster — stunned by a Beastkin’s spell?

No. By his own.

And Ruki didn’t wait.

From under her belt, she slid her old bone knife free — dull, cracked, but conductive.

> [FIELD SIGIL — PRIMED]

>

> [Gleaming Sigil: Restraint Glyph — ACTIVATED]

>

> [Target Object: Bone Knife]

>

> [Detonation Radius: 2.5m]

>

> [Effect: Root + Silence (3s)]

She flicked it like a dart, angling it where she knew he’d fall when the stun dropped.

The knife clinked across the stone…

[DEBUFF WINDOW: 0.3s]

Malfur broke free from the stun just as his foot stepped onto the rune-laced knife.

[TRAP DETONATED]

BOOM—!

Light exploded from beneath him. He was slammed into silence — voice and motion cut.

The air crackled.

And Ruki?

Ruki just smirked.

Hands on her hips, sparks flickering off her shoulders.

“Checkmate, bitch.”

The crowd went wild.

The words detonated like a firecracker in the silence.

Ruki stood firm, smoke still rising from the scorched stone at her feet where the Searing Howl had been split. Her cloak fluttered from the aftershock. Her boots, scuffed and damp with fog and sweat, dug in beneath her.

She was no longer just standing.

She was daring the world to move.

Behind her, Willow Nix hadn’t breathed in five seconds. Her mouth hung open, still trying to understand what had just happened.

And in front of them — Malfur Dikaiosýni.

No longer smug. No longer speaking.

He stared across the scorched bridge at her, fury clenching every line of his jaw.

His spell had failed. His pride had cracked.

[ System Warning — Mana Core Disturbance Detected ]

“Ruki…”

Mar-Mar’s voice rippled through her mind like water against stone.

“You need to calm yourself. Your body’s not—”

But it was too late.

The rage had a shape now.

Lightning skittered across her arms like chained spirits trying to escape. Thin streaks of black plasma surged through her joints, coiling tight behind her spine like a whip about to snap. Her mana wasn’t just unstable — it was boiling.

Tears streaked quietly down her cheeks — silent, involuntary, as her body strained to contain the cast. Her breathing hitched. Her legs wanted to buckle.

But she wouldn’t fall.

She refused to fall.

“One thing that really pisses me off…”

Her voice dropped to a whisper — low, venomous.

“…is watching some overcooked meathead cast a Tier 6 execution spell in the middle of a crowd…”

She looked toward the stunned guards — toward the packed citizens who’d watched like it was a show.

“…and seeing all of you just let him.”

The words echoed, sharper than steel.

The crowd didn’t move.

Then her hand lowered — fast. The air changed.

Magic ignited.

“Since you’re so damn tough,” she hissed,

“…let’s play a game.”

Black lightning slammed into the bridge like a thunder drum, pulsing in a tight radius around her.

Three beasts emerged from the discharge — wolves forged of shadow-streaked plasma, their bodies rippling like torn silk made of storm. They didn’t growl.

They hummed.

> [ Twinbolt Specters (Tier 3) — Cast ]

>

> Three phantasmal wolves summoned from charged mana. Each targets a separate foe. On impact: Shock Burst + Disrupt (3s) + Stagger (2s). Minor Corrode debuff on armor. Cooldown: 40s.

They scattered like streaks of darkness.

The first zipped past Malfur’s right, then reversed mid-air — claws extended — and slammed into his unarmored flank. A burst of crackling energy exploded outward, sending bystanders twenty feet away stumbling back with stunned gasps.

The second materialized behind his legs — he barely registered it before it swept low and snapped upward, blasting his legs out from under him in a streak of black arcs. Sparks erupted from his armor as he slammed down on the stone.

The third?

It leapt directly into his chest.

The impact was deafening — a shockwave ripped through the bridge, snapping a chunk of the outer railing clean off and sending a ripple through the crowd.

Malfur’s body crashed against the gate wall, stone cracking behind him like pottery under a hammer. A dent the size of a carriage wheel spread in the brick. Dust plumed outward.

The only thing that kept him from being liquified was his enchanted cuirass — now cracked, hissing from overloaded wards.

“Gods… did she just…” someone murmured.

“She summoned them. With black lightning—”

“She’s not even collared—”

“She’s a Beastkin—”

“—and she took down Malfur?!”

Syndicate guards hovered their hands over hilts but didn’t draw. Some were still affected by the panic radius of Searing Howl. Others… just didn’t want to end up like him.

Ruki stood over the still-flickering energy zone, her hands twitching, her vision blurring at the edges.

She was fading.

Too much mana.

Too much pressure.

Too many spells too soon.

And yet, she still stood.

Then came the voice:

“Stand down!”

A new presence entered the scene — calm, cold, in control.

A cloaked man descended the gate steps, flanked by elite enforcers. His sigil shimmered: a fanged ouroboros bound in gold — the seal of Black Fang.

Gasps rippled.

The mayor.

“I saw everything,” he said. “No arrests. Not yet.”

His gaze didn’t waver.

Not at Malfur.

Not at the crowd.

But at her.

And for the first time in days…

Ruki didn’t know what came next.

End of Chapter 5

----------------------------------------

Ashes Beneath Iron – Part III: A Pact Beneath Smoke

“The first fang never bites — it waits, and watches.”