Eyes flickered open.

"Where...?" Lenara opened her mouth and spoke. "Where's my brother? Did he make it? Where is he now...? Did I-" All questions which seemed as though it would go unanswered. For she was met with many questions that needed real answers, regardless of the mouth like hers from whom it came.

"You pretend to forget so no one can see the cracks."
"But if no one remembers you... do you even exist?"
The shadow’s eyes flickered with green light, her lips curling faintly.
"What’s a mind made of illusions when it runs out of people to fool?"

"I...."

She wanted to smile but couldn't muster the will to do so.

Yet those bright green eyes flickered in the silence. Some part of her wanted to frantically spit out an answer before time left her behind. Yet some part of her desired to think.

"You hide behind jokes. Behind noise. Behind all those bright words."
"But silence remembers you better than anyone ever did."

There was a skip in her heart. A tightness in her chest. Her throat convulsed as if to gulp, seizing at. She felt a hidden truth. Yet ultimately, it was her wounded heart that yielded answers. Tell the truth as she saw it, as best as she could.

"My father told me this once..." She began.

"Where I come from, there are some who die. Alone. Cold, bleeding out into the snow. And yet I would like to believe. If they did not exist, we would be overrun. Whether people remember them or not, they made a difference. Countless like this exist and have existed. We do not remember them, yet live in a world of their creation each passing day."

"I don't need to be remembered. I only need to do good."

There were limits to what. Was she just posturing and putting up an illusion for herself? Was she hiding from her own past, the life before? She didn't really have the answers to that. Everything was still a haze -- almost as if it had been deliberately locked away. Was the illusion right? Did she do it to herself?

She searched herself and couldn't answer. Yet there was something she did know.

"My jokes and my smile are not all for my own sake. I don't know how much of it is for my own sake. But I know one thing: I like making other people happy...."

Yet just like that, that reflection of her which had appeared shattered.



Lenara's eyes flashed open. And she was immediately met with a familiar chill. She hugged herself for warmth, eyes looking around frantically. As her eyes met something familiar, there was a voice which existed only in her mind.

Oh. You ssssssurvived? I thought you would never awaken. I doubted one as weak as you, would survive such a trial.

Pick me up then. And wield me, so that I may feassssssst.

Or perhapssssssssssss, you are broken...and would rather freeze to death?

Laying in the snow was a sword that Lenara carried, made of scale and steel. Slowly but assuredly, she walked over and reclaimed the lost thing. Her hand clasped the hilt. And in her hand the greatsword became a feather.

"I've never been so relieved to hear your voice." She spoke lowly.

Lenara got up, trying to make heads or tails of what it was she had gone through. There was lingering sense of something unresolved. As something had yet returned to her, something that had once locked away. She had sought to be tested and yet it seemed as though something had gone wrong.

There was voice. "BACK!" The voice had said. It wasn't hers. It sounded familiar, like the woman who had welcomed them and informed them of the trial Lenara ran through the woods, and began to close distance. The sound of her boots crunching through the snow would come to a halt as she caught sight of a scene.

"Tsuskiko." Someone from this world. Someone in trouble.

In truth, that was about the only thing that had gone through Lenara's mind was that she needed to act and now. Her grip on her sword tightend and she ran forward, jumping with her own strength to clear any obstacle in her path. [Footwork]

"Calamity Blade Style" A chant which aligns mind with steel.

A pungent odor fills the air. It begins as a fluid. The blade glistens in a way less metallic and more liquid. This sheen is short lived, as the sword envelops itself in a liquid flame. The blade trembles in her hand, as though it desires to ignite and destroy all.

Yet it is channeled into one specific target: The demon.

SWIPE

"Molten Slash!" The sword was swung with the intent to both cut and burn -- carried forth with the amateur grace of someone trained in the art of the longsword. Her hands almost seeking to gently guide the blade in a fiery circle, before settling in front of her -- pointed towards the shadowy entity in anticipation of their next move. [Molten Slash]

"If you're still alive, it's not too late. Just leave her alone!" Lenara spoke her words sympathetically, even to such a mangled shapeshifter as this.

Drip....drip....drip.

Yet the flaming sword was held out in a low stance, draconic venom dripping from it's tip like molten magma. It's mere proximity beginning to melt the snow and expose soil beneath.

SSSSSsst

Yume unleashed a self-satisfied smirk as the demon sizzled from her attack. The very fact that it survived was impressive, but the damage was obvious. At first, she thought it was done for. Then, with agonizing slowness, it began to move, her heart sinking with it as she gazed up at the horrific claw of death.

"H-how did you…!?" Of course! It wasn’t real, she didn’t really hit it with a giga-holybeam, this was a dream world, and this ghastly thing was making the rules. Maybe. Either that, or her staff needed some work. Work that, if the claw dropped, would never come to fruition.

Yume crouched down, ready to dash as fast as her legs could carry her, but before she could spring off, she was met not with a crushing demon claw, but something far more undoing. "Get off! We’re…" she never finished the sentence, as the beast seemingly recoiled from nothing.

Then came those words. Yume didn’t know this person, but neither was she (entirely) stupid. She knew what a Mom looked like, what one sounded like, what one felt like. She’d had one once… long ago, in another world. In fact, the two sounded way more alike than felt natural.

A small part of her wanted to shove her away and start issuing grievances, but this mysterious woman practically radiated love that made it an impossible task. Was this it then? Another trick? The impossible test? Not a demon, but saying no to… this? "Who… why didn’t you… where…" Yume started half a dozen questions, half of which ended up half-articulated. Instead, the sassy, obnoxious girl simply melted, rubbing foreheads with the affectionate fae mom until… she was gone.

Slowly but surely, Yume came to her senses, as if finally stumbling out of a warm, secluded sauna. One-by-one, her companions were vanishing into mist, with no way to tell if it was erasure or escape. In the end, it was her and the confusing antler lady. Yume still understood maybe one word out of 3, but this time, it was enough. She shared a nod with her.

"Nice work, tree-head! Let’s finish this!" she shouted, raising the staff and unleashing her signature move… "Dinner time!"

Brain Drain | Grade B — (Trademark Spell, -1 cooldown)
Magic B, Telepathy B, Energized E, Homing E, Element [Psychic] F, Blight [Psychic] E, Range F, Targets F, Selective F, Enervation E, Non-lethal F
3 post cooldown
Unleashes psychic tendrils, which repeatedly strike at the head, aiming to latch on to the minds of several targets. On contact, these consume memories, starting with one critical to functioning in combat, and moving on to core ones.

The demon didn’t bleed.

It unraveled.

Yume’s spell struck not the body, but the mind behind it.
Invisible threads lashed out from her staff like spectral roots — burrowing into the monster’s skull, into the writhing mass of stolen thoughts that held it together.

For a heartbeat, everything went still.

Then the demon spasmed.

Its many eyes snapped open wide, then wider, then too wide —
faces rippled across its surface like reflections on black water, flickering through terror, rage, grief, and hollow, yawning emptiness as Yume’s magic dug in and fed.

Memories tore loose.

Not theirs —
someone else’s.

A girl screaming as chains were locked around her wrists.
A boy kneeling in the snow, head forced down by a boot.
A burning village.
A blood-slick altar.
A hand holding up a heptagram talisman and whispering: “You will never be powerless again, my wrathful child.”

The demon clawed at its own head, jaws open in a soundless howl as Yume’s psychic tendrils ripped and devoured anything that gave it cohesion.

Then Moo hit it.

Her charge slammed into one of the thing’s massive legs like a battering ram of bone and will.
There was no finesse — just raw, stubborn force.

The impact sent a shockwave up the demon’s body, and with its mind in tatters, it stumbled.

The huge bulk crashed sideways, one arm flailing for balance, claws carving trenches into the stone.
Where Moo’s strike connected, its form buckled, shadow and stolen shapes splintering, unable to hold.

The chamber reacted.

Cracks spiderwebbed up the walls, across the ceiling, down under their feet. The world itself shuddered like glass about to let go.

The world dropped out from under them.

There was no falling this time — no sense of down at all. Only a sensation like being yanked backward through the spine, through the eyes, through every thought that had touched this place.

Something big — something angry — reached for them one last time.

Yume might feel a claw brush the edge of her thoughts, hissing:

“Remember this, little dreamer.”

Moo might feel a weight slam against her chest like a promise of future battle.

And then—

Cold.

Real cold.

The dream shattered like a pane of black ice, and both were hurled out of it.

In the misty forest, beneath the pale tree

The undead never saw it coming.

One moment it was crushing Tsukiko against the roots of the pale tree, its blue-lit eyes fixed on her throat.

The next—

Foxfire.

Kota hit it like a living spear.

His hand drove forward, wrapped in roaring blue flame. The strike punched straight through the creature’s chest, foxfire bursting out its back in a geyser of burning light. For an instant, the zombie’s form illuminated from within — bones, snapped ribs, a shriveled black knot where its heart should have been.

The corrupted mana shrieked.

Its jaw stretched wide enough to crack as the foxfire ate it from the inside.

Then Lenara’s blade sang.

Her molten slash carved across the thing’s torso in a bright arc, the liquid fire biting through dead flesh like butter. Venom-fire clung to it, climbing up its body in writhing trails of ember.

The undead stumbled, arms spasming.

Tsukiko tore herself free of its grip, feet skidding in the snow. Her hands snapped into a final seal, one last talisman — ink bleeding red across the paper — slapping flat against the creature’s burning forehead.

“Return to the earth that rejects you,” she hissed.

The rune ignited.

For a heartbeat, all three could see it clearly — a web of threads beneath the creature’s skin, glowing blue and red, pulling it like a puppet. Those threads snapped taut, then recoiled, ripping free of the corpse and vanishing into the mist with a horrible, whistling shriek.

The body collapsed into the snow with a dull thud, already beginning to crumble to ash.

Silence rushed in.

Breath. Heartbeat. The soft, low hum of the pale tree above them.

Tsukiko staggered, one knee hitting the roots. Her hand dug into the bark like an anchor as her tails lashed once, twice, before settling.

Her gaze flicked to Kota. To Lenara. And the other two that were slowly wakening from the shattered dream world.

“That thing…” she rasped, ears pinning flat. “It was not… born here.”

The mist around them was no longer pure white — streaks of faint red threaded through it now, pulsing in a rhythm that felt wrong.

Her eyes narrowed toward the distant glow of Nan Pass below.

"Something took control of the trial...something that should not be here." She paused to look up at the pale tree with what might pass for concern on the stubborn old wolfess.

She exhaled hard, steam curling into the air.

“Nan Pass Village is under attack. The same corruption that animated this thing is moving down there. If you can stand—”

Her gaze hardened, sharp as drawn steel.

“—then stand. The trial isn’t over. It’s just not the one I planned.”

She led the way with a hurried pace through the mist to the little mining Village. Towards the sounds of screaming and chaos.

Nan Pass burned.

Firelight and falling snow tangled together over the rooftops as Yukan stepped into the chaos — the Koyake crest snapping in the mountain wind like a banner of defiance.

The fire did not roar so much as unfold through the village.

Yukan’s arrival cut through the chaos like a blade through silk. His spear’s flame erupted outward in a sweeping arc, and for a heartbeat, all sound vanished beneath the pressure of heat and light. When the world exhaled again, the battlefield had reshaped itself.

Where a line of skeletal warriors had stood moments before, there were now only smoking heaps of bone collapsing into the snow. Their blue-lit sockets dimmed into nothing, their chains hissing as the residual fire blight ate away the last of the necrotic magic binding them. Villagers who had been moments from being dragged away stumbled free, staring in disbelief as their captors simply… fell apart.

The snow underfoot had melted into steaming slush where the fire had passed, leaving dark, glassy patches that reflected the violence back at the sky. Doors hung crooked from hinges; torches lay extinguished in the snow; overturned baskets, broken tools, and scattered belongings littered the street where families had fled in panic. The smoke rising from the homes nearest the square twisted into the overcast air, thick enough that the sky looked bruised.

Many of the villagers had been freed by Yukans sweeping fire arc. However some had been freed when the human soldiers had realized the real threat. They turned their attention towards Yukan.

And through that haze, the crimson-haired woman stood on the stone steps like a dying star refusing to collapse.

The blast had struck her—there was no mistaking that. Her coat was charred through one side, the flesh beneath smoking where the fire had torn into her. She held the railing with both hands, knuckles white, torso trembling as she tried—and failed, once—to straighten. When she finally lifted her head, her violet eyes were fever-bright, trembling with pain but burning with fury.

Blood streaked the handkerchief she pressed to her lips. When she lowered it, more ran freely.

She wavered on her feet, clutching her ribs where the spear’s cleansing fire had burned deep. Frost clung to her eyelashes and streaks of soot blackened her cheeks, but she refused to fall. Instead, she reached into the inner lining of her coat with a shaking hand.

A glass vial flashed in the snowy light.

She uncorked it with her teeth and downed the potion in one tilt of her head.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then the veins in her neck and wrists glowed faint violet. The burn along her ribs sealed—not cleanly, not perfectly, but enough to let her inhale without choking. Enough to let her stand straighter. Enough to let the rage return in full.

She lowered the empty vial and looked directly at Yukan.

“Do you think a little fire will stop me?”
Her voice scraped like frost over steel.
“Do you think any of this will stop me?”

Her hand dipped into her pocket once more.

When it emerged, she held a coin—dark metal etched with a seven-pointed star, each point wrapped in barbed thorns. The sigil pulsed faintly, as though something behind the metal breathed.

Snow falling around her sublimated into steam.

“They killed my son,” she said.

The surviving raiders stiffened at her back.

“They killed my niece.”

The talisman at her throat flared.

“And now these animals—these wretched, lying beastkin—think they can hide in their mountain dens and forget their sins?” Her words carried not grief alone, but a hatred sharpened into purpose. “No. No more running. No more mercy.”

She lifted the coin high.

The seven-pointed star ignited with sickly red light.

A sound like a heartbeat, but wrong, pulsed through the ground.

“YOU WILL ALL,” she hissed, voice rising into a chant,
“PAY IN BLOOD OR IN BONES.”

She began to chant, and as she did a dark energy began to gather around her.

Ten of the armed men moved straight towards Yukan, their spears pointed at him.

Ten more were on the eastern side of the village; some still yanking at villagers that had been unlucky enough to be caught. Though most moved towards Yukan.

Tsukiko Growled as she watched the scene but she turned towards Kota abruptly. Biting her thumb, she drew a symbol on his forehead.

"Consider this the final trial for you. You found your way in the mist. Now release your Beast and defend the village."

Then a feral growl ripped from her throat as shadows enveloped her form. And suddenly a spray of snow was kicked up as a very large wolf started to bound towards the nearest soldiers. Grabbing the first ones neck between her maw, pinning him to the snow as blood began to pool around his twitching form.

---

[/hr]

Ooc: There's about 35 men to attack. Ten are circling around Yukan. Julia took a strange potion and is now channeling some strange dark magic while brandishing a weird talisman.

ten of the soldiers are on the eastern side of the town trying to yank villagers and tie them up. Theres at least fifteen more standing between where the group is and where Julia and Yukan are.

Tsukiko has taken on the form of a slightly above average sized black wolf and is attacking the men head on.

Yukan Koyake

Yukan’s attack had successfully decimated some skeletons. He couldn’t help but wonder if the vengeful woman before him was using some kind of dark magic. Before his ascendence in being revived by the Spirit King, Magic was largely beyond Yukan’s scope of understanding, but now he was well aware of the extent to which it could be used, he felt in in his very own veins now that he was part fae.

A look of steely conviction was held in his flaming eyes, steam continued to come off of his body as he burned really hot. Sashimono flying high, the clan banner would not fall his enemies on the battlefield would.

Unfortunately his enemy hadn’t fallen in one fatal strike, she was still standing, if wounded. Yukan kept his spear focused on her. As she began to drink whatever elixir she had, all he knew was that it was really bad news, he needed to finish it quick, but unfortunately more enemies were surrounding him before he could get another clean shot off, as she continued to change in concerning ways.

“While you may feel immense pain and hatred, criminals committing murder does not give you the right to massacre all of those who did not partake!”

Yukan called out in righteous indignation. He knew full well that it was probably on deaf ears at this point as she was going well beyond the point of return from what he could tell, probably becoming something more nefarious.

He was a bit surprised to see a certain wolf attacking enemy soldiers, Yukan would treat them as an ally as they only seemed interested in attacking those who were his enemies.

At seeing the ten enemies around him, Yukan was quick to react, He didn’t want to use his second strongest attack now, No, he needed to save energy for her follow up that it didn’t seem like he’d be able to stop in this moment with all the enemies around him, instead he’d focus on them, having to control the use of his fire circle ability so that it didn’t go spread and make the fires worse on the buildings.

“You all there! You’re mercenaries no? Or are you just all murderers? Consider surrendering rather then throwing your lives away!”

But seeing that the ones who were circling around him were probably unlikely to listen, he’d make another gesture to show them why they’d be better off surrendering like he said.

He thrust his flame blessed Su Yari forward at the solider immediately in front of him

With another ring of fire spraying out around him at those who got within 50 ft of him.
He then attacked again on the next closest soldier with two more firey thrusts, trying to stab them as well.

Yukan Actions:

1. Stab enemy soldier in front of him with, as well as try to burn surrounding enemies around him with Great Transcending Thrust: Cleansing Fire - [Specialize] Fighting Style [Fire Lord: Falling Spear Style] D,
Energized D, Selective D, Range D, Fire Blight D, Penetrating D, Contact [Fire] D, Area E, Hotshot D, Reach

Yukan attempts to pierce a target up to 100ft away with his flame blessed Yari, a radial ring of fire spreads around Yukan at enemies up to 50 ft away, selectively sparing those who he does not wish to harm. Deals 3 extra damage on fire blight successfully effecting target. Ignores up to 3 grades of target(s) fire resistance. Ignore up to 3 grades of target’s defensively used item. +1 effectiveness against enemies more than 5 ft away, -1 effectiveness against enemies 5 ft or less away. Deals double damage if target weak spot hit. D Grade ability - 1 round cooldown (Energized)

Great Transcending Thrust: Cleansing Fire BE:

Mele: B (5) + Stre A (6) + ABL D (3) = 14 (15 on enemies who are more than 5 ft away from Yukan hit) +1 On successful combo attack + 1 on 2nd successful combo attack.

2. Team up attack next closest soldier/those who can still be hit by ring of fire with:

Lesser Transcending Thrust: Cleansing Fire - [Specialize] Fighting Style [Fire Lord: Falling Spear Style] E,
Energized E, Selective E, Range E, Fire Blight E, Penetrating E, Contact [Fire] E, Area E, Hotshot E, Reach

Yukan attempts to pierce a target up to 30ft away with his flame blessed Yari, a radial ring of fire spreads around Yukan at enemies up to 50 ft away, selectively sparing those who he does not wish to harm. Deals 2 extra damage on fire blight successfully effecting target. Ignores up to 2 grades of target(s) fire resistance. Ignore up to 2 grades of target’s defensively used item. +1 effectiveness against enemies more than 5 ft away, -1 effectiveness against enemies 5 ft or less away. Deals double damage if target weak spot hit. E Grade ability - 0 round cooldown (Energized)

Lesser Transcending Thrust: Mele: B (5) + Stre A (6) + ABL E (2) = 13 (14 on enemies who are more than 5 ft away from Yukan hit)

3. Team up attack on another soldier if possible with stab (and fire ring on others) Using:

Transcending Thrust: Cleansing Fire - [Specialize] Fighting Style [Fire Lord: Falling Spear Style] F,
Energized F, Selective F, Range F, Fire Blight F, Penetrating F, Contact [Fire] F, Area F, Hotshot F, Reach

Yukan attempts to pierce a target up to 10ft away with his flame blessed Yari, a radial ring of fire spreads around Yukan at enemies up to 15 ft away, selectively sparing those who he does not wish to harm. Deals 1 extra damage on fire blight successfully effecting target. Ignores up to 1 grade of target(s) fire resistance. Ignore up to 1 grade of target’s defensively used item. +1 effectiveness against enemies more than 5 ft away, -1 effectiveness against enemies 5 ft or less away. Deals double damage if target weak spot hit. F Grade ability - 0 round cooldown (Energized)
Transcending Thrust: Mele: B (5) + Stre A (6) + ABL F (1) = 12 (13 on enemies who are more than 5 ft away from Yukan hit)

Moo


Coward! That giant monster had escaped, for now. Moo knew she would eventually find it and then break it. She rose to her feet, shaking the snow from her clothes and horns off. Her honey colored eyes focused on the wolf lady talking to them. The village they had seen not so long ago was being attacked? It seemed Moo was going to have to charge the adventure guild some extra beer, this was outrageous! But, if they needed Moo's help, Moo was going to help.

As they walked back to the village with a quick pace, Moo was quiet. She was usually one to talk and show off her knowledge about the forest while being with companions, even if their language wasn't as advanced as hers. But as they got closer and the sight of the village came into view, Moo's fist began to clench and her teeth started to grind against each other.

She knew exactly what these humans were, what that crazy red hair lady, who's hair was not as great and red as Moo's, was. They had tormanted her home many times and she was not about to stand around and let them do it to these kind folk!

"Lettem Go!"

Moo didn't need instructions, she didn't need someone to tell her what was the plan, she knew what to do on instinct. Protect the ones in need of help and destroy the ones causing harm on the defenseless. She lowered her head and rushed again, not towards the soldiers in front of her group, but instead towards the ones trying to take some of the villagers.

"Git'em fylthai'ans'off'em!"

Moo roared as she rushed through the melted gray snow. She wasn't going to stop, she wasn't going to allow them to get away. She was going to bash and stomp on every single one of these bastards and that was just a small drop of Moo's sleeping anger.

Skills:
Brawler Fighting Style E (Natural Weapon)
Tech Cores:
Knockback

It didn’t feel like waking. Rather being "spit out" of a nightmare. Outside wasn’t much better: cold, sounds of demon combat, and echoes of battle far off in the distance. Yume groaned softly, rolling herself to standing position. Her brain was throbbing, pulsing in time with the mythril etched into her skin.

She took a brief moment to nod at the moose lady. That was all she had time to do. They were off to the sounds of battle.

Yume, on the other hand, was not.

The trial meant a lot to some. To her, it was a pastime. A fun little challenge to stretch her magic skills a bit. But this tree… this wasn’t just some sentimental rite of passage. This was ancient. Powerful. Special.

…

"This stupid fae blood is getting to my head…" Yume muttered quietly, her thoughts way more like a pretentious elf than she ever wished to be. Nevertheless, she stepped behind the tree, they seemingly ran off, and it wouldn’t be long until they failed to notice the difference.

"Who was that?" Yume asked the magic tree with her telepathy. She doubted she had to elaborate, but she did anyway, "The… Yumom. Did you just make her up? Could you… do it again?" The last sentence surprised even her. She never thought of herself as one to get obsessed over dreams and fantasies. But she was cold, her winter clothes wet and nasty from the snow. Shivering, alone in a strange land of fluffy people who talked weird.

She raised a hand, pressing it to the trunk of the tree, her forehead soon to follow. "I’m tired," she whispered. "…so tired of being a stranger. And…" Yume’s mental thoughts cracked at the seams, as her own, uncharacteristically serious words reached out like psychic ripple, "…if the world outside has nothing for me, I’d rather just sleep."

Firelight and snowfall churned together in the main road, turning Nan Pass into a flickering corridor of orange glare and black smoke. The slush underfoot steamed where Yukan’s earlier flames had passed, and every footprint filled with dirty meltwater that froze again at the edges.

The ring of fire that burst from Yukan’s spear on his renewed thrusts didn’t spread wild, not with his control—rather it lashed outward in disciplined arcs, searing through the nearest raiders who tried to close. One man with a spear stumbled back with his cloak aflame, batting at it in panic; another collapsed to his knees clutching a smoking chestplate. The heat forced the tight circle around him to break, their confidence cracking as they realized he wasn’t just “one defender,” he was a moving blaze line they couldn’t comfortably cross.

But the village did not quiet.

On the eastern side, Moo hit the kidnappers like a runaway cart.

Her charge tore through the slush and scattered two raiders off their feet; one slammed shoulder-first into a woodpile, another skidded across the packed snow and dropped his chain with a shout. The villagers they’d been yanking free stumbled away, wide-eyed and scrambling, some falling, some crawling, all of them surging toward the alleys and the tree line as if the forest itself had become the only door left open. The moment Moo’s horns and fists were among them, the soldiers’ neat cruelty turned into messy survival—boots slipping, weapons swinging too wide, men barking at each other to “hold the line” while they plainly could not.

At the headmans hut, the charred and barely standing woman wheezed a desperate and manic laugh. Her chant reached its cadence, the red glow of the seven-pointed coin did not spread outward indiscriminately, it latched. Every body that had fallen in the snow during this fight, human and beastkin alike, shuddered as if tugged by invisible hooks.

A raider Yukan had just dropped moments ago twitched where he lay, charred armor scraping against stone. His fingers curled. His spine arched. Blue light flooded his eyes as he rose again, jaw hanging slack, spear lifting with a dull inevitability.

Near Moo’s path of destruction, a beastkin who had died buying time for fleeing villagers dragged himself upright, chest crushed inward, breath no longer required. The chains that had bound him clattered loose as he turned — not in rage, not in pain — but in obedience.

All across the village, the same thing happened.

The dead stood up.

Julia staggered once as the magic pulled at her, blood spotting the snow at her feet, but she laughed through it — a cracked, exultant sound. Her free hand braced against the railing as the coin burned hotter, thorns glowing like embers pressed into flesh.

“See?” she rasped, voice carrying unnaturally far.
“You kill them… and they still serve me.”

Around Yukan, the ring of combat tightened in a new, horrifying way. Every fallen enemy was no longer removed — they were reclaimed. Burned soldiers rose again with half-melted armor fused to bone. Those struck down by blades staggered upright with weapons still lodged in their bodies, blue fire leaking from their wounds.

Tsukiko swore under her breath, snapping a talisman onto the forehead of one such corpse and shoving her clawed flat hand put in a sharp jab. knocking it over. She moved with caution, but little by little she made her way to Yukan.

"Are you the Clan leader of the Koyake Clan? An Alliance seems unavoidable now." She growled, pointing towards Julia. "She is a slaver that has sent poachers and hunters to these mountains for years. And a necromancer by the looks of it. She must be exterminated." As she pointed her claws came out to strike at one of the fighters eyes.

Tsukiko’s strike sent the undead fighter crashing backward into the slush, its skull snapping sideways with a wet crack. Blue light sputtered in its eyes as it flailed, clawing at the ground to rise again.

It never got the chance.

From the edge of the village, the mist answered.

At first it looked like the fog was simply thickening—rolling down from the treeline in heavy banks, swallowing lantern light and dulling sound. Snowflakes vanished into it mid-fall, hissing faintly as they touched something warm and alive.

Then shapes moved within the white.

Not men.
Not beasts as the raiders understood them.

The first howl tore through Nan Pass like a blade.

Deep. Resonant. Not a cry of fear or rage—but a declaration.

Out of the mist burst a massive white wolf, larger than any mundane creature, its fur glowing faintly as if dusted with moonlight. One eye burned a clear, piercing blue. The other shone molten gold. Snow exploded beneath its paws as it hit the street at full speed, jaws already open.

It slammed into a freshly risen undead soldier and crushed him bodily to the ground, snapping spine and skull in a single, brutal motion. The blue light in the corpse’s eyes went out like a guttered flame—and this time, it did not rise again.

The wolf did not slow.

Behind it came the forest.

Great shapes surged out of the mist in a crashing wave—beastkin in their true forms and half-shifted war-shapes, spirits layered over muscle and bone. Antlers crowned with frost. Claws trailing pale light. Massive feline silhouettes whose breath steamed like smoke from a forge. Some moved on four legs, others on two, but all of them carried the same purpose.

They hit the undead ranks from the flanks and rear, tearing them apart with savage precision.

Where a normal blow left a corpse to be reclaimed, these strikes ended things. Limbs were ripped free and hurled across the street. Torsos were crushed until nothing recognizable remained. Heads vanished into jaws or shattered under hooves and claws. The necromantic threads Julia had woven snapped again and again, recoiling uselessly as there was nothing left to bind.

A towering bear-shape plowed through three shambling corpses in a single charge, pulverizing them into a smear of ash and bone fragments. A serpent-like spirit coiled around another undead fighter, constricting until the blue glow burst out of its eye sockets and faded.

The village roared back to life with the sound of battle—real battle—steel ringing, beasts snarling, snow churning under massed movement.

Julia’s laughter faltered.

Her chant wavered, just for a heartbeat, as she watched her reclaimed dead torn apart faster than she could replace them. The coin in her hand flared brighter, pulsing erratically, the thorns biting deeper into her palm as blood dripped freely onto the stone steps.

“No—” she hissed, coughing hard, crimson splattering the snow. “No, you don’t get to take them from me—”

Another howl cut her off.

The great white wolf pivoted mid-stride, skidding through slush and blood as it turned its mismatched gaze toward the headman’s hut. Its lips peeled back from fangs stained dark, breath fogging the air in heavy bursts.

Mean while, back in the misty forest. The tree did not answer Yume.

Not with words.

Not with thoughts she could seize or unravel.

When she had pressed her forehead to the pale bark, the cold eased—not warmth exactly, but a gentler absence of pain, like snow settling instead of biting. The hum beneath the roots deepened, slow and vast, a rhythm closer to breath than heartbeat.

Her magic brushed outward—and met resistance.

Not a wall.

A depth.

Something immense lay beneath the surface of the tree, layered so deeply that even her telepathy slid across it like fingers over still water. She could not enter it. Could not pull anything free.

But something noticed her.

The roots beneath her palm stirred.

Not physically—there was no movement she could point to—but the sensation of being acknowledged pressed gently against her awareness, the way one feels eyes on them without ever seeing the watcher.

Images surfaced.

Not memories.

Invitations.

A forest path at dawn, mist clinging low to the ground.
A pale clearing where roots rose like ribs around a shrine.
An annoyingly familiar young blondes face.
And beneath it all—absence.

A hollow where someone should have been.

The hum shifted, growing almost… wistful.

Yume might feel the sense of waiting—not impatience, not demand, but something enduring and patient in a way only the dead ever truly master. The feeling was not aimed at her, but brushed past her like a sleeve, leaving behind a single, fragile impression:

Someone is lost.
Someone who once belonged here,
Someone who could belong here.

The roots warmed faintly under Yume’s hand.

Another impression followed, softer still—so faint it might have been her own thought if not for how foreign it felt.

A star reflected in water.
A voice singing without sound.
A daughter-shaped absence the forest could not fill on its own.

Then, gently, firmly, the connection receded.

The tree did not push her away.

It simply closed—like an eye returning to rest.

The cold returned. The hum settled back into silence. Snow continued to fall.

Yume was left alone beneath the pale branches, with only the lingering certainty that whatever slept within those roots was not finished waiting.

Yukan Koyake

Yukan was pleased to see that his attacks were devastating enough, with his connection to the fire cardinal it was really showing what the fae fire could do. It was still strange for the warrior, to even be considered part fae but there he was, straddling both worlds.

“You all had your opportunity to surrender to the law…” Yukan muttered. Unfortunately it seemed that his enemies could not be put to rest even in death, he could see them rising from death becoming undead.

“This is not my first encounter with this unnatural dark magic..” Yukan spat in defiance, recalling the Fallen Blossom Shrine where he had faced off against a much larger army of undead, of course he was even stronger now..

“Bring as many back as you will, I will cleanse them from this plain!” Yukan called out.

Yukan looked to Tsukiko, and shook his head, “I am not the head of the clan, but I am a member with some unique distinction. I agree that we can work together to end this evil.”

Just as Yukan got ready to attack suddenly there was a whole slew of guardian like beasts came out of the wood work, some looking more ethereal than others and began to ravage the undead.

Yukan aimed his spear focusing on the necromancer now..with a decisive strike he hoped that he could help take her out as well as burn more undead around him, so he prepared. “The tide of battle is turning in our favor! Perhaps if the necromancer perishes..this will all end quickly and blood shed can finally stop.”

Yukan then focused with a serious resolved look on his face, with one forceful stab sent forth a force of fiery steely energy from his flame blessed Yari, the ring of fire shooting out again from around him to burn undead and other enemies 50 ft away in a radial, selectively sparing Tsukiko from it harming her.

Yukan actions:

1.
Attempt to strike blood covered Necromancer with Yari main attack, hit any other enemies he can catch in 50 ft fire radial around him.
Transcending Thrust: Cleansing Fire - [Specialize] Fighting Style [Fire Lord: Falling Spear Style] C,
Energized C, Selective C, Range C, Fire Blight C, Penetrating C, Contact [Fire] C, Area E, Hotshot B, Reach

Yukan attempts to pierce a target up to 500 ft away with his flame blessed Yari, a radial ring of fire spreads around Yukan at enemies up to 50 ft away, selectively sparing those who he does not wish to harm. Deals 4 extra damage on fire blight successfully effecting target. Ignores up to 4 grades of target(s) fire resistance. Ignore up to 4 grades of target’s defensively used item. +1 effectiveness against enemies more than 5 ft away, -1 effectiveness against enemies 5 ft or less away. Deals double damage if target weak spot hit. C Grade ability - 3 round cooldown (Energized)

Transcending Thrust: Cleansing Fire BE:

Mele: B (5) + Stre A (6) + ABL C (4) = 15 (16 on enemies who are more than 5 ft away from Yukan hit)

The flame-blessed yari drove forward with righteous intent, steel and fire unified in purpose, and the world itself seemed to lean into the motion. The ring of cleansing flame expanded once more from his position. It was controlled and disciplined, devastating without being wild. It washed over the shambling undead in a searing arc.
Those caught within it did not rise again.
Bone cracked and blackened. Necrotic threads shrieked as they burned away, snapping like overdrawn strings. Blue-glowing eyes guttered out across the street one after another as the dead collapsed into ash and brittle fragments that the snow quickly swallowed.
At the center of it all, Julia screamed.
The spear struck true.
It pierced through her chest just beneath the collarbone, fire erupting outward as it passed through her. The force hurled her backward against the stone steps of the headman’s home, the impact echoing like a hammer on a bell. Her chant shattered mid-syllable, words dissolving into a wet, choking gasp.
For a heartbeat, she hung there, pinned by flame and will.
Her violet eyes widened, not in fear, but in realization.
“No,” she rasped, blood bubbling at her lips. “You don’t understand…”
Suddenly the talisman in her hand was glowing. The seven-pointed star burned white-hot as the thorns writhed, sinking into her palm, her wrist, her arm. Dark light coiled like a living thing, racing up her veins. Julia’s scream twisted, breaking into something raw and animal as the talisman drank deep.
Her body began to collapse inward on itself. It was as if she were being sucked into the coin.
Shadow peeled from her flesh like wet ink, drawn screaming into the coin. Her limbs shriveled. Her voice cut off in a final strangled gasp. Then she was gone.
Gone so completely that even ash did not remain.
The coin dropped to the stone steps with a sharp, hollow clink.
And with it, everything stopped.
Across Nan Pass, the undead froze mid-motion.
Blue light flickered, sputtered, and died.
Bodies collapsed all at once, crumbling into harmless piles of bone and blackened snow as the necromantic threads snapped free and vanished into nothing. The oppressive pressure that had hung over the village lifted like a suffocating fog finally blown away by the wind.
Silence rushed in.
Then cheers.
Not loud at first. Disbelieving. Fragile. Then louder, swelling as villagers realized they were still alive. That the dead stayed down. That the nightmare had ended.
The great beasts slowed their charge and then stilled.
From among them, the massive white wolf lifted its head and let out a final echoing howl. It was not a cry of war, but of victory. Snow drifted from rooftops as the sound rolled through the pass.
The wolf’s form shimmered and folded inward.
Hiruq stood where it had been.
Tall and broad-shouldered, one blue eye and one gold, both sharp and alert as he surveyed the village. He approached Yukan with measured steps, then bowed deeply, fist to chest and head lowered in respect.
“You have our thanks,” he said simply. “Nan Pass stands because you stood.”
Nearby, Tsukiko approached the fallen coin.
She reached for it.
The moment her fingers brushed the metal, she hissed sharply and recoiled. The talisman struck the stone again as she dropped it, shaking her hand as though burned. Her ears flattened, lips curling back in a snarl born of instinct.
“No,” she growled. “That thing is wrong. Deeply wrong.”
She stared at it from a safe distance, eyes narrowed.
“It is bound to something vast. Ancient. Hungry. I cannot see its end, but I can feel its pull.”
Hiruq watched Tsukiko as she carefully wrapped the coin in a cloth. Then he turned to look at the villagers and beasts as they slowly righted themselves and began to rebuild.
“Kota and I will set things straight here,” he said. “We will join you later in Mabaroshi-mura. You should go to speak with the Koyake representative.”
Tsukiko nodded once, tucking the coin away and pulling out her long-stemmed pipe. She glanced around at Yukan, Yume, Moo, and Lenara.
“Very well. Let us move on. Into the mists.”
“We have much to discuss…”
The path into the forest did not open so much as allow passage.
Mist curled and thinned just enough to reveal narrow stone steps cut into the mountainside, lanterns glowing softly with foxfire light. The air changed as they climbed, cooler and cleaner, heavy with old magic and pine resin.
Mabaroshi-mura revealed itself slowly.
Buildings rose along the slope like quiet sentinels, some perched on stilts driven into sheer rock, others nestled into the mountain’s natural shelves. Wooden walkways connected them in elegant arcs, prayer ribbons fluttering from railings. Paper lanterns glowed behind shoji screens, casting warm gold light that pushed back the ever-present mist.
Great stone wolf statues watched over the village, ancient and weather-worn, eyes carved deep and knowing. Some sat at shrines. Others guarded bridges or overlooked the valley below.
This was not a village that hid in fear.
It hid in patience.
Within the great hall, heat and food awaited. Steaming bowls, grilled meat, rice, and tea were set before them. Wounds were treated with practiced hands. Fatigue eased.
When all were settled, Tsukiko stood.
“The Kurogami Clan will fight beside the Koyake,” she said, her gaze settling on Yukan.
“Against slavers. Against those who hunt our people. This much is decided.”
She paused.
“But alliances do not move mountains alone.”
Her eyes shifted northward toward unseen peaks.
“If we are to break the chains reaching into these lands, you will need the Yamamoto Clan of Nan Gau.”
“And their princess.”
“Once you have rested and been fed, you should head that way. Hiruq will join you.”