The great eagle, Sura, descended from the frozen heavens, his massive wings cutting through the biting wind. As he made landfall before the Ice Lord, a curious sight met the onlookers: clinging stubbornly to the eagle's powerful leg was Volak. Stranger still, two newcomers trailed behind them.

  ?The Ice Lord’s voice was as cold and steady as a glacier. "Welcome back. Do the winds bring news?"

  "None, my Lord," came the reply. "There was no trace of the demon scourge."

  "Good," the Lord murmured, his gaze shifting to the strangers. "And who might these two be?"

  The first stepped forward, chin held high. "I am Julian. Word reached me of a demonic plot against the villages. I could not sit idle while others bled."

  The second followed suit. "And I am Harold. I, too, have come to offer my strength to the cause."

  A faint, approving glint appeared in the Ice Lord’s eyes. "I am pleased to hear it."

  ?However, the air grew thick with indignation as Volak turned to the girl beside him. "You accept them, but not me? They are barely older than you, Rose!"

  "Is that so?" one of the newcomers challenged. "How old are you, then?"

  "I am thirteen!" Volak snapped. "And you? You're barely eleven!" He turned back to the Ice Lord, his voice rising in protest. "Wait... are you saying Harold was accepted even though he’s only a year older than me?"

  "I am," the Ice Lord replied calmly. "And in truth, I intend to include you as well."

  Volak’s anger vanished, replaced by stunned silence. "You... you're serious? You'll include me?"

  "As an emergency assistant," the Lord clarified. "Until your years catch up to your spirit. Then, and only then, shall you be promoted."

  Volak’s face split into a triumphant grin. "Fine! That’s more than enough for me!"

  ?Deep within the abyss of the demon's lair, where the light of the sun is but a forgotten myth, a subordinate approached his master with trembling steps.

  "My Lord, the legions are ready... but my heart is heavy with doubt."

  "Speak," the Demon Lord commanded, his voice a low growl.

  "We are but the First Rank—the bottom of the hierarchy. We are to face one of the Seven Knights. Your plan relies on the Pact Beasts... but what if they turn their hunger upon us?"

  ?The Master let out a dark, guttural laugh. "You overthink, simpleton. In the game of war, you strike the King, and the pawns scatter like dust. That is the purpose of the Pact Beasts: to erase the strongest. Once the pillars fall, the house collapses."

  "Then... they will not target us?"

  "No. The Ice Lord will be far too occupied fighting for his life to protect his young. Do you understand? We must fulfill our mission."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The subordinate swallowed hard. "But my Lord... what if he defeats the Beast?"

  "He cannot," the Master sneered. "Pact Beasts that have tasted the combined blood of the Light and Dark Warriors are beyond the reach of death. Prepare yourselves. We shall not fail. Activate the Gate."

  "My Lord, since the death of the Great Wizard, the ritual is slow. The Gate will take time to form."

  "Let it take an eternity if it must," the Master hissed. "I await your command."

  ?Back at the Ice Lord’s domain, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation. "If you truly wish to join," the Lord announced, "I must measure your resolve. Attack me—both of you, with everything you have."

  ?Without a heartbeat’s hesitation, Harold closed his fist, igniting a surge of thermal energy that he hurled at the Lord. As the Lord dodged, Julian struck. He wielded a sword forged from his own living blood, forcing the Ice Lord to retreat. Seizing the moment, Harold slammed his palms into the earth, radiating intense heat until the permafrost buckled. He wrenched a massive jagged shard of ice from the ground and launched it with primal force.

  ?The Ice Lord evaded the projectile, but his instincts flared—something was wrong. He was right. Julian had used the melted runoff to channel his blood beneath the surface. Suddenly, lethal spears of crimson blood erupted from the ground where the Lord stood.

  "I see," the Ice Lord whispered. "Harold didn't just melt the ice; he provided the medium for your attack."

  ?The Lord summoned a towering rampart of ice to shield himself, but the two were relentless. "Well done," he called out, his voice echoing. "But the lesson ends here."

  Julian lunged for a final blow, only to find his feet fused to the ground in an instant freeze. Simultaneously, Harold felt the bite of cold steel against the back of his neck. Behind him stood a shadow made of frost, holding a blade.

  "When did he...?" Harold gasped.

  The Ice Lord dispelled the magic and smiled. "Allow me to welcome you both to the team."

  ?The celebration was interrupted by a frantic mother carrying her son. "Aunt Lian! Please! My son... his heart!"

  Lian’s face fell. "He hid the symptoms from me... he didn't want to bathe so I wouldn't see. Oh, my poor child."

  Rose stepped forward, her small hands glowing with a soft, ethereal light. She placed them over the boy’s heart. "His condition is grave," she whispered. "He has reached the final stage."

  ?Rose closed her eyes, pouring her very life force into the boy. Her face grew pale, beads of sweat forming on her brow, as the darkness within the boy’s chest withered away. Finally, she exhaled, trembling. "It is done."

  The boy’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of his mother’s joyous sobs. "Thank you, Rose! Thank you!"

  "I only did what I had to," Rose replied weakly.

  The mother turned to her son, weeping. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I didn't want to burden Rose," the boy murmured. "She heals everyone at the expense of her own health. I thought... I thought I could endure it."

  ?As the village festival began—a grand tribute to the First Tribal Leader—Rose watched the families around her with a touch of melancholy. Her brother, Volak, noticed.

  "Rose, are you alright?"

  "Just hungry," she lied softly.

  Volak didn't say a word. He simply scooped her up and hoisted her onto his back.

  "Brother! Put me down! I can walk!"

  "Your feet are small, and I am fast," he laughed. "Besides, you are the healer of these lands. Appreciate your worth—and give me your share of the feast!"

  "Never! I’m keeping my portion!" she shouted, though a smile finally touched her lips.

  ?The festival reached its peak as Chief Zephyr stood before the crowd. "We are gathered to honor our ancestors, but today, I must honor my own. My son, Volak, and my heart, Rose—the Light of our people. For every life you have saved, we thank you!"

  ?As one, the entire village—from the eldest warriors to the youngest children—bowed deeply to the young girl.

  "Stop! You're embarrassing me!" Rose cried, her face turning crimson. "I only did my duty!"

  "No," a man shouted from the crowd. "You saved my son from the blizzard when no one else would come! You are our hero!"

  ?Volak leaned in and whispered, "Believe them, sister. Today, you are the true hero of the village."

  Rose looked out at the sea of grateful faces and smiled, her heart full. "I hope," she whispered, "that I am granted the strength to heal you all, every single day