Goblin Slayer stood at the check-out counter of the armory— his expression hidden behind the cold steel of his helmet, but the tension in his body was clear. In front of him, tempered glass separated him from the quartermaster, who was a heavily built soldier with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense demeanor. Beneath the glass was a small space that was just wide enough for paperwork to pass through.

The quartermaster then slid a clipboard and requisition form under the window, with his voice slightly distorted through the built-in speaker. "You literate?" He asked bluntly, staring at the fully armored teen with a skeptical gaze.

"Yes," Goblin Slayer replied flatly, and without hesitation.

The gray-haired teen then took his own silver-nubbed pen from his belt and began filling out the form. His movements were efficient, the pen gliding over the paper with precision. Once he finished, he slid the clipboard back along with his laminated ID card.

The quartermaster picked up the form, comparing the handwritten information with the details on Goblin Slayer's ID. He narrowed his eyes and glanced back at the teenager, as if trying to assess him behind his helmet. After a moment, he set the form aside and spoke through the speaker again. "Wait by the window."

Goblin Slayer nodded, standing motionless as the quartermaster left the counter and disappeared into the armory behind him. Beyond the tempered glass, the armory was a fortress of steel and stone, and was lined with towering shelves filled with an arsenal of weapons, shields, and forbidden items. Everything from simple swords to high-grade, restricted weapons gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. There were crates marked with warnings in bold, red letters: "DO NOT REMOVE WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION." A few locked cages contained relics of war— pieces of technology too dangerous for regular soldiers, yet tempting for those with enough power to wield them.

The quartermaster returned with Goblin Slayer's orichalcum tomahawk and his steel-buckler shield. He slid them through a lower compartment— the hatch opening with a metallic click as the weapons were pushed toward the teen.

"Here you go," the quartermaster said, with his tone indifferent.

Then he reached beneath the counter and pulled out something far more intricate— an apparatus of complex metal gears and polished brass, embedded with glowing crystals and etched with arcane symbols. It looked both ancient and advanced, with a strange blend of mechanics and magic. Without a word, the quartermaster placed it in the same compartment and slid it toward Goblin Slayer.

"You know the drill. Arm with the bracelet goes in," the quartermaster instructed, gesturing to the teen's right arm, where the mana-suppressing bracelet was clamped.

Goblin Slayer then compiled, and slipped his arm into the cold, metallic device. Immediately, the inner mechanisms whirred to life. He felt it latch onto the bracelet, followed by a low vibration that hummed through his entire arm. The sensation was unsettling, sending a shiver down his spine. Behind his visor, the teen's eyes narrowed as he braced himself— unease prickling at the back of his neck. The vibration intensified, shaking his arm until it abruptly stopped. With a soft click, the bracelet unlatched itself from his wrist.

Slowly, Goblin Slayer pulled his arm free, the cool air biting at his newly liberated skin. He raised his wrist to inspect it, flexing his fingers. The red glow of his left eye intensified behind the visor— flickering ominously. His gaze shifted to the quartermaster, who watched him with growing unease.

The quartermaster's hand moved subtly to the side— signaling the two heavily armored templars stationed nearby. In perfect synchrony, they raised their rivet rifles, with the weight of their weapons shifting with a mechanical hum as they aimed directly at Goblin Slayer's head.

The quartermaster's voice crackled through the speaker again, this time with a slight edge. "We gonna have any problems here?"

Goblin Slayer's eye glowed brighter for a moment, then dimmed as he lowered his wrist. "Not from me."

The quartermaster studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly— the tension in the room thick but not unbearable. The teenager felt a surge of energy course through him now that the bracelet was off. The suppression was gone, and the latent power within him hummed, ready to be released.

He clenched his fists, feeling invigorated, a renewed sense of strength pulsing through him.

With his weapons in hand, Goblin Slayer stepped out of the armory. The air outside was cool and crisp, the sky a vast expanse of pitch-black. Stars twinkled like shards of ice scattered across the heavens, the moon hanging large and pale with no clouds in sight. The outdoor offices surrounding the fifty-meter-tall walls of Central County stood like silent sentinels— bathed in the eerie glow of the night.

As Goblin Slayer passed the security checkpoint, his eyes found his companions waiting for him just beyond. Lizard Priest was standing tall, carrying a dolly with a large bundle wrapped in bungee cords— which was loaded with all of their accumulated purchases.

Arc Mage stood nearby, her curious gaze locking onto Goblin Slayer immediately. "How does it feel to have that anti-mana bracelet off?" She asked in her usual blunt, almost detached tone— though there was a glimmer of genuine curiosity in her eyes.

Goblin Slayer paused, adjusting his steel buckler over his left forearm. "Good," he replied simply with a single nod— not offering any more details.

Lizard Priest led the group forward, eyes scanning the dark horizon as he flipped through the pages of the atlas booklet with one hand. The moonlight barely illuminated the path ahead, but his sense of direction never wavered.

"If we don't take any breaks," he mused aloud, his voice low and thoughtful, "we should be back in Stonehall by dawn." He then paused, yawning deeply before adding, "Though… We'll have to rest sometime. Fatigue is a dangerous enemy."

Behind him, Dwarf Shaman stumbled slightly, while still wobbling from the alcohol. His laughter was soft, almost sleepy as he muttered, "Aye, it'll be curtains for us, all if we end up fighting while exhausted. No spell's going to fix that sort of hangover."

Goblin Slayer's stride was steady, his shield strapped tight to his forearm and his tomahawk resting comfortably at his side. "We'll be able to rest once we get to Stonehall," he said, his voice calm but assuring. "I'm friends with the owner of "The Opulence of Avalon"."

The moment the words left his mouth, the entire group froze. High Elf Archer blinked in disbelief, her ears twitching as if she hadn't heard him correctly. "Wait… You're friends with the owner of the Opulence of Avalon?! That fancy-ass hotel?!" Her voice carried a mixture of shock and curiosity, the name of the expensive hotel sounding too luxurious for someone like Goblin Slayer to frequent.

Lizard Priest looked over his shoulder, a thoughtful expression crossing his reptilian face as he considered the idea. "Now that I think about it," he mused, "it does make sense. Mr. Ashta's purse was hefty when he joined him. I suppose it's not surprising that he's involved with such… Luxuries."

High Elf Archer crossed her arms, now less shocked and more intrigued. She glanced at Goblin Slayer from the corner of her eye. "Expensive tastes, huh? Even before we corrupted ya?"

Dwarf Shaman, still swaying slightly from his intoxicated state, snorted in amusement. "A rich snob, our lad is," he teased, elbowing the teenager lightly in the ribs.

Goblin Slayer then cracked a small smile behind the vented visor of his helmet, though none of them could see it.

Arc Mage, who had been mostly silent, raised an intrigued brow at the ongoing conversation. "Fascinating," She muttered to herself, with her interest piqued.

High Elf Archer, still amused, couldn't resist making a further comment. "What's next, Orcblog? Are we gonna catch you sipping wine by the fireplace, reading books about philosophy and art?"

Goblin Slayer turned his head slightly, with his voice flat but laced with humor. "I prefer Sharky Pop, actually."

That earned a soft laugh from the group, breaking some of the tension from their earlier conversation.

Lizard Priest's calm voice cut through the laughter, his sage-like tone returning. "Well then, if the Opulence of Avalon awaits us, perhaps we ought to pick up the pace." He then closed the atlas booklet, before gesturing for the group to continue moving as he slid it into one of the leather pouches along his belt.

High Elf Archer continued to stroll alongside Goblin Slayer— her usual playful smile creeping onto her lips. She pointed to the dolly Lizard Priest was hauling, which was stacked high with purchases wrapped in a tarp. "Y'know, after all the clothes, jewelry, hotel rooms, and food you've bought us in Crossbell, you're probably broke by now."

Goblin Slayer chuckled softly behind his visor, the sound barely escaping the metal. "You're not wrong. I've probably only got fifty gold pieces left." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "Hope you all enjoyed it— because we can't afford to spend that much again until we get back to base."

Dwarf Shaman, who was still a little tipsy, cackled loudly, stumbling as he clapped the teenager on the back. "Ach, fifty gold! That's barely enough for a fancy dinner where we're headin'. You've gone soft, lad. What a rich snob ye are, eh?"

Goblin Slayer smiled behind his helmet, and High Elf Archer grinned as she teased, "He did spoil us though, didn't he?"

Arc Mage, who had been silently watching the banter with an intrigued grin, suddenly spoke up. "I know Stonehall has access to steam engines, but that's about all I know. Is that where you all met?"

High Elf Archer's ears twitched as she answered, "Kind of. Me, Lizard Priest, and Dwarf Shaman knew each other from the Adventurers' Guild, but we all met Goblin Slayer in Stonehall… At a restaurant we, uh, dined and dashed from."

Her eyes widened suddenly, and she slapped her forehead. "Ah shit, I forgot about that!"

Dwarf Shaman burst out laughing— doubling over as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Hah! Aye, hope they don't remember our faces, else we'll be tossed in jail before we can set foot in that fancy hotel!"

Arc Mage raised an eyebrow, amused. "What an upstanding group of adventurers," she quipped sarcastically, before turning her curious gaze to Goblin Slayer. "Speaking of interesting things, what about that girl you wanted me to teach magic to? I'm going to take a wild guess here… Is she from Stonehall?"

Goblin Slayer nodded as they continued walking, his eyes scanning the bustling road ahead. "Her name is Juliet. She's an employee at tThe Opulence of Avalon. Lady Eleanor, the owner, is taking care of her."

"Juliet…" Arc Mage mused, clearly intrigued. "Tell me more about her."

Goblin Slayer took a deep breath. "Juliet was born in a brothel. She was on track to become a… Sex worker, against her will, but Lady Eleanor stepped in. Used her connections to shut the brothel down and took Juliet in."

His tone softened as he added, "She's the sweetest girl I've ever met. Strong, too. I want her under the protection of my guild… To give her a future where she doesn't have to live in fear."

Arc Mage's eyes softened at his words, her curiosity turning to genuine warmth. "That's noble of you, Goblin Slayer. But why not just leave her in Stonehall? It's pretty safe, right?"

Goblin Slayer's expression tightened behind his visor. "I don't trust the Royal Army to protect her. Not with the war against Blackwatch ongoing. Stonehall is close to where the Sahara Outpost used to be. If something happens… I need to know she's somewhere safer than a town that might get caught in a crossfire. At least in Evergreen, she'll have Remi and I watching out for her— I trust Remi more than I trust anyone else in the Royal Army."

Arc Mage nodded thoughtfully, her expression briefly distant. "Fair enough," she replied quietly. Then, after a pause, she tilted her head and asked, "You're doing something good for her, you know. The world needs more people like you… And Lady Eleanor."

There was a beat of silence before she continued, her usual eccentric energy faltering just slightly. "When I was young… Well, I didn't have someone like that. My mother was… Let's say, unkind. Not as bad as what Juliet went through, but enough that I spent most of my time in libraries. They became my escape."

Goblin Slayer glanced over at her, listening carefully as she continued.

"I would stay there for hours, reading everything I could to block out the yelling, the hitting… I lived in books and magic theory. It was the only thing I had that made me feel like I could be more than what she said I was."

Her voice grew softer, almost wistful. "I escaped into my mind, but Juliet… She escaped for real. And you're helping her do that— I can respect that, Ashta. That makes you a hero in my book!"

Goblin Slayer didn't respond immediately, his thoughts swirling as he processed her words. He hadn't expected Arc Mage to share something so personal, but he appreciated her honesty. "I'm not a hero," he finally said, his voice low. "I just… Want to protect the people I care about."

Arc Mage smiled— a quirky and lopsided grin that radiated warmth despite her usual eccentricity. "That's exactly what makes you a hero— you're not doing it for fame or glory, you're doing all of this because it's the right thing to do. Because you want things to change— because you're willing to make those changes yourself."

Lizard Priest, his eyes tired but still focused on the road ahead, broke the silence that followed. "If we keep moving, we'll be in Stonehall by dawn… Unless we collapse from exhaustion first." Another yawn escaped him as he glanced at Goblin Slayer. "Though I suppose a night at the Opulence of Avalon might be worth the wait."

"Not if we get arrested first," Dwarf Shaman chuckled.

High Elf Archer giggled, nudging the teenager gently. "Don't worry. Orcbolg will bail us out if ee has to. You've still got fifty gold, right?"

Goblin Slayer let out a rare laugh, the sound deep and warm, as they pressed on. The weight of the journey, the exhaustion, and the looming threats ahead seemed a little lighter as they walked together.

The iron lampposts flickered in the distance, and the watchtower searchlights swept over the fields. The night was cool, and though the road was long, they had each other— and that was enough for now.

The Iron Flower Mountains stood tall and unyielding against the clear blue sky, with their peaks jagged and sharp— cutting into the heavens like frozen swords. Snowflakes glittered under the sunlight— painting the mountains with a deceptive serenity.

However, the path that Captain and his group trod was anything but peaceful. The higher they climbed, the colder and more perilous it became, with the air thinning with each step. The peaks of these mountains were a place no ordinary adventurer dared to tread— too hazardous, too deadly, even for the most seasoned.

At the head of the group, Female Warrior marched steadily, her crimson-tipped spear slung across her back. Her breath puffed in front of her like a dragon's smoke, visible in the frigid air. She glanced back at her team, her red eyes narrowing with determination. "We're getting closer to Snow Lord's base. I hope you're all ready to fight like hell," she said, with her voice hard as the ice beneath them.

Behind her, Female Wizard, with her wavy pink hair and smug smile, let out a soft chuckle. The wind tugged at the green cape draped over her curvaceous frame, with her ample chest barely contained by the white minidress beneath. "This won't be any different than when we took down Demon Lord. Stick together, and we'll crush them. Same as always."

Myrmidon Monk, who had been walking in silence, recited in a brusque tone, "Overconfidence leads to defeat. Blackwatch is far more dangerous than the Demon Lord ever was alone."

He adjusted the blue scarf around his neck, with the mandibles on his face twitching slightly as he spoke. The monk, with his insect-like appearance, was a constant reminder of the unusual— the misunderstood. His bluntness had always been a source of tension, though no one could deny his wisdom.

Half-Elf Scout, with his white hair pulled back into a braid and his cocky smirk, rolled his eyes. "Ah, come on, bug-boy, you're giving Blackwatch way too much credit. They're just a bunch of uppity peasants being led by a bunch of dumbasses. Albion ain't much different either!"

Female Warrior scoffed, with her grip tightening on the strap of her spear. "You wouldn't be so cocky if Albion were flying overhead right now. And don't forget, they've already killed every platinum-ranked adventurer the guild's sent after him."

"Eh," Female Wizard waved a hand dismissively, her long pink locks swaying. "That's because none of them were as skilled as Akira is," she said, casting a glance toward Captain, her cousin, who walked in stoic silence. "But such ranks won't matter for long. We'll all be working for the Royal Army, soon enough."

Half-Elf Scout grinned at that, practically bouncing on his feet. "Damn straight! Can't wait either! Ten years of service and we get a nice retirement plan, our own land in Crossbell, and— most importantly— a hefty salary pay instead of these per-job scraps!"

As they bantered, Myrmidon Monk stayed quiet— the soft crunch of his boots the only sign of his movement. Finally, he spoke, his tone neutral but firm. "I doubt the Royal Army would be so eager to take me in."

Half-Elf Scout raised a brow, his usual cockiness faltering. "Wait, you thinkin' about quitting, old man?"

The monk didn't flinch. "Perhaps."

The words caught the group off guard. Half-Elf Scout blinked, his joking tone vanishing. "H-Hey, I was just playin'. I didn't mean-"

"I know," Myrmidon Monk interrupted, his voice still calm. "But despite the reforms the Knight of Diamonds has proposed, I'm not naïve. The generational hatred toward my kind runs deep— especially among the Royal Army."

Half-Elf Scout shifted awkwardly, with the weight of the monk's words sobering him. "What about change, though? People can learn. Things can get better."

The monk gave a somber nod. "I believe that too, but I won't live to see it."

The weight of his words settled heavily on the group. Female Wizard, usually dismissive, cast a glance at Myrmidon Monk, silently acknowledging his age. She couldn't help but think he might not have more than a few years left before retirement would take him, whether he wanted it or not.

The group fell silent as they continued their ascent. At last, they reached the ice cap, a massive, jagged structure that towered above them. It was bigger than any castle, its sharp edges and ominous presence more foreboding than anything they had encountered before.

Female Warrior unslung her spear, gripping it tightly in both hands as she stared up at the looming structure. "We're here."

Female Wizard and Captain scanned the snow-covered field surrounding them— their eyes falling on the mummified remains of not just hundreds, but thousands of unidentifiable bodies buried in the ice. Their faces were twisted in agony, frozen in time by the cold.

Inside the fortress, the air was deathly quiet. Half-Elf Scout took point, while unslinging his crossbow repeater and holding it against his shoulder. He extended his other hand forward— a green glow shining from his palm, casting long shadows on the ice walls.

"Alright, people," he muttered, scanning the corridor ahead, his spell revealing a host of traps. "Dart trap right there... Blade trap on the floor... And… What the hell is that? A pitfall? Who designs this crap?!"

Female Wizard raised her hand, casting an illumination spell. Six glowing pink orbs floated into the air, casting light all around them— revealing the icy dungeon room in its entirety. The traps glimmered ominously, but with Half-Elf Scout's guidance, they maneuvered through the first room unscathed.

They reached the base of a spiraling ice staircase, with the steps slick and treacherous. Half-Elf Scout groaned. "Great, stairs. Exactly what I wanted today."

Female Warrior smirked. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. We won't let anything happen to you."

He chuckled nervously. "Yeah, yeah. You say that, but... Still not a fan of stairs."

Taking a deep breath, Half-Elf Scout advanced, leading the way up the spiral staircase— his footsteps echoing as the tension mounted.

As they ascended, the walls seemed to close in, the cold seeping deeper into their bones. Suddenly, the temperature dropped further, and the ice itself began to shimmer unnaturally. Without warning, ice wisps burst from the walls— ghostly figures swirling through the air, their forms crackling with malevolent energy.

Captain remained utterly composed, with his eyes narrowing behind his bangs as he calmly unsheathed his ebony blade. His right eye flared a vivid red as he moved faster than lightning; his sword cutting through the wisps in a blur. His movements were elegant, calculated— each strike precise, the wisps exploding into ice particles as his flame-enchanted blade cleaved through them.

"Stay together!" Female Wizard commanded, raising her staff high. Pink lightning arcs shot from the tip, bouncing off the walls and leaping between wisps. They exploded in bursts of ice as her magic raged through the staircase— illuminating the chaotic scene in flashes of pink and white.

Half-Elf Scout fired his crossbow repeater, with his bolts tearing through the icy spirits. "Screw this!" He shouted, until a wisp blasted his weapon from his hands. "Dammit!" He cursed, before drawing two daggers and taking a defensive stance.

Before the wisp could strike, Female Warrior lunged forward— spearing it through the head. "Gotcha covered, Scout," she said with a grin.

He chuckled. "Much appreciated."

Meanwhile, Myrmidon Monk hacked through the wisps with his dual kukris— his face impassive, as he felled them one after another. But his focus shifted as he saw Female Warrior get struck by an ice shard that pierced her shoulder. With swift precision, he grabbed her arm— his hand glowing a warm yellow as he healed her wound instantly.

"Thanks," she muttered, while rolling her shoulder and nodding as she took down another wisp that tried to sneak up on him.

Amidst the chaos, Female Bishop raised her sword up— her voice strong and calm. "Light of the heavens, bless us with your grace!" A soft golden glow then bathed the group— a regenerative aura renewing their strength and stamina. Her calm amidst the battle was a stark contrast to the frenzy around her.

"Thanks, Bishop!" Half-Elf Scout called out, while feeling the divine energy invigorate him.

With the regeneration spell empowering them, the group fought with renewed vigor. Captain moved with lethal grace— cutting through the wisps effortlessly. Female Wizard sent another bolt of pink lightning cascading through their ranks, and Myrmidon Monk and Female Warrior fought back-to-back— their movements synchronized as they cleared the staircase of the icy phantoms.

At last, the final wisp dissolved, leaving the staircase littered with frozen remains. Captain sheathed his blade, his red eye fading to its usual dull hue.

Without a word, he glanced at Female Warrior and said in his cold, flat voice, "We proceed."

The group, bloodied but unbowed, nodded in agreement. The air was still heavy with tension, but they were ready to face whatever lay ahead in the heart of the Snow Lord's lair.

The ascent up the spiral staircase was grueling— the icy wind cutting through their clothes as they climbed deeper into the fortress. Room after room awaited them, each crawling with dangers— imp goblins, snarling and twisted, and dark elves, their faces etched with cruel confidence as they readied their ambushes.

But none of them stood a chance.

The first ambush came the moment they entered a frost-covered chamber midway up the staircase. Imps lurked in the shadows, their beady eyes glowing in the dim light of Female Wizard's floating orbs. Dark elves, armored in black leathers and wielding wickedly sharp blades, flanked them. The second they pounced, though, Captain was already moving.

With blinding speed, he drew his ebony-black katana— the blade glinting with a flicker of fire magic. He moved like a wraith— slicing through the goblins before they even had a chance to cry out. Blood sprayed across the walls in thick, dark arcs, as limbs were severed and heads rolled to the icy ground. A dark elf raised his blade, only for Captain's katana to meet it— shattering the weapon into shards before cutting the elf in two at the waist.

Half-Elf Scout raised his repeater crossbow, but stopped mid-aim as Captain decimated the entire room in mere seconds. He glanced back at the others and cracked a smile. "Well, guess that's that. Hey, Captain, you planning on leaving any for the rest of us, or are you just doing the whole damn thing by yourself?"

Captain didn't respond. He merely flicked the blood from his blade, sheathed it, and began walking toward the next room without a word.

"Cool. Good talk," Half-Elf Scout muttered under his breath, reloading his repeater. The rest of the group exchanged looks.

The next chamber was no less dangerous. The group found themselves face-to-face with a larger contingent of dark elves, led by a tall, silver-haired warrior with glowing runes etched into her skin. Her voice hissed like a blade drawn over stone as she commanded her troops to attack. The elves drew their bows and unleashed a hail of arrows.

In a flash, Captain moved again. His red eye glowed fiercely, and his sword danced through the air— deflecting each arrow as though they were mere twigs. His movements were a blur— each time his sword connected, blood sprayed across the icy walls. The silver-haired elf barely had time to raise her sword before Captain's blade severed her head from her shoulders, sending it tumbling to the floor in a spray of crimson.

The remaining elves were cut down before Female Warrior could even unsling her spear. Myrmidon Monk watched impassively as Captain methodically wiped out every last enemy— leaving only gore and lifeless bodies in his wake.

"I guess we're just here for moral support at this point," Female Wizard quipped, with her staff glowing with residual magic she didn't have time to use.

Female Bishop stayed back, her hands glowing with divine magic, prepared to heal or protect— but even she found it hard to react in time to Captain's carnage. She cast a cautious glance at him. "His skill is… Beyond human," she whispered— almost to herself.

Half-Elf Scout chuckled nervously. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but a little teamwork never hurt anyone."

Room after room, the ambushes continued. Captain remained an unstoppable force— cutting through imps and dark elves with ruthless efficiency. Each battle was more brutal than the last— he cleaved through enemies like a reaper through a field of wheat.

Heads flew, bodies were bisected, and blood slicked the ice beneath their feet. His enchanted blade, now constantly glowing with fire magic, left trails of scorched flesh in its wake.

In one chamber, a dark elf attempted to cast a lightning spell, but Captain was already behind him— his katana severing the elf's arm at the elbow before the spell could fully manifest. Another tried to call for reinforcements, but a flick of Captain's blade silenced him— his body collapsing into a pool of blood.

"Man, I'm starting to feel useless here," Half-Elf Scout muttered after the tenth ambush was reduced to gore. "If you're trying to impress the ladies, Cap, you've already won— and one of them is your cousin! Come on man, let us have some fun…!"

Female Wizard rolled her eyes. "Second cousin… Technically."

Female Warrior grinned, her spear still unused. "He's efficient. We can't fault him for that."

After what felt like an eternity of bloodshed, they finally reached the top of the staircase. The dark fortress had grown eerily quiet, with the ambushes thinning as the enemy forces were decimated. According to Female Wizard's count, they had fought through at least fifty rooms.

Now, they stood before the final chamber— the heart of Snow Lord's lair.

The massive icy doors creaked open, revealing a cavernous throne room. The room was anything but regal. It resembled a refugee camp more than a seat of power. The ice was jagged and uneven, stained with soot and filth. Tattered tents and makeshift shelters lined the walls, where dark elves huddled around burning barrels for warmth. The air was thick with the stench of desperation.

In the center of the room, looming over the huddled mass of dark elves, stood a massive snow dragon. Its scales shimmered with a cold, deadly light, and its eyes glowed an eerie blue. Frost and mist swirled around it as it shifted, its massive form casting a long shadow across the chamber.

The dark elves, numbering in the hundreds, were a far cry from the organized ambushers they had faced earlier. Many of them were ragged, their eyes sunken and desperate, but a core group of Blackwatch soldiers— armored in black plate and wielding bows, swords, and magic— formed a defensive wall before the dragon, with their grim expressions— daring the group to make a move.

Female Warrior gripped her spear tighter, her gaze sweeping across the room. "This doesn't feel right. It's less of a throne room and more of a death trap."

Female Bishop nodded, her voice low and serious. "They're not just soldiers. This is their last stand. They're terrified."

Myrmidon Monk examined the dragon with a steely gaze. "Terrified or not, they won't go down without a fight."

Half-Elf Scout glanced at the dragon, his cocky grin faltering. "Yeah, no kiddin'. That thing looks like it could swallow me whole." He turned to Captain, still gripping his crossbow. "So, Cap, you think you're gonna handle this one by yourself too? Or can the rest of us actually participate this time?"

Captain said nothing, his glowing red eye fixed on the dragon. His silence was all the answer they needed.

Female Wizard took a deep breath, raising her staff. "Well, we've made it this far. Let's not disappoint."

Half-Elf Scout cracked a nervous joke, wiping sweat from his brow. "I don't know about you guys, but I kinda liked it better when we were just killing goblins…!"

The tension in the room spiked. They all knew what was coming. The dark elves shifted, their bows raised, spells at the ready. The dragon's icy breath billowed out like smoke, and the ground trembled beneath its weight.

"Alright," Female Warrior said, her voice steady as she prepared to charge. "No turning back now. Let's finish this."

And with that, the icy throne room erupted into chaos, as the dark elves charged their spells and arrows flew through the air. The ground shook as the snow dragon unleashed a deafening roar— its blue eyes glowing with cold fury. The enormous creature reared back, and spewed forth a wave of icy breath— freezing the ground solid and turning the battlefield into a treacherous ice field.

The dark elves were a blur of movement, their bows drawn, their swords flashing, and their black-clad mages hurling bolts of energy. But they were up against something far more terrifying.

Captain moved faster than any of them could see. One moment he was standing beside the others, the next he was a blur of motion— his ebony-black katana flashing through the air. His right eye burned crimson as he launched himself into the heart of the enemy, with his blade cutting through dark elves with terrifying precision.

Limbs were severed, torsos cleaved in two, and blood sprayed in thick, dark arcs as he tore through their ranks.

Half-Elf Scout, holding his repeater crossbow up, glanced around at the carnage. "Damn, Cap! Save some for the rest of us, will ya?" He smirked, but it was half-hearted. He raised his crossbow and began firing— bolts hitting their marks with deadly accuracy, and taking down several dark elves who had been foolish enough to try to flank Captain.

Female Wizard raised her staff high, her voice ringing out as she chanted a spell. "Let the storm be purged by fire!" A firebolt then erupted from her staff— slamming into a group of elves and engulfing them in flames. They screamed as the fire consumed them, with their bodies crumbling to ash.

In an instant, Captain was beside her— his katana glowing with the same fire enchantment she had used. Together, they moved in perfect sync, her firebolts clearing a path as Captain cut down any who dared come close. When the dark elf mages tried to cast protective shields, Captain was already behind them— his katana ripping through their defenses like paper, and their bodies collapsing in pools of their own blood.

But it wasn't enough to slow the dragon. The beast reared back again— its massive form towering over the battlefield. With a sweep of its tail, it sent several dark elves and makeshift tents flying across the room.

Female Warrior gritted her teeth and lunged forward— her crimson-tipped spear flashing in the dim light. She jabbed at the dragon's flank, with her strikes precise and powerful, but the beast's scales were thick, and her spear barely scratched the surface. "Damn thing's tougher than I thought!"

Myrmidon Monk moved with calm precision, his twin kukris flashing as he slashed through several dark elves attempting to surround them. His insect-like antennae twitched as he sensed danger— dodging an incoming ice shard just in time. "Stay focused! Do not underestimate them!"

The dragon roared, with its maw opening wide as it launched a barrage of icicles from its mouth— sharp as spears. They shot through the air with terrifying speed, and were all aimed directly at Half-Elf Scout.

His eyes went wide, and he instinctively raised his arms to shield himself, panic flooding his face. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shi-!"

But before the icicles could reach him, Myrmidon Monk was there. Without hesitation, he threw himself in front of Half-Elf Scout, his body taking the full brunt of the attack. The icicles pierced through his flesh with sickening thuds, blood spraying from the wounds as they drove deep into his chest and back.

"S-Sebastian!" Half-Elf Scout screamed— his voice breaking as he stared at the monk's bloodied body. His eyes were wide with shock, his cocky grin gone— replaced by a look of horror.

Myrmidon Monk staggered, with his body trembling from the impact, but he turned his head to look at Half-Elf Scout— his face calm despite the blood pouring from his wounds. "I-It… It's okay… It's okay…" His voice was weak, but filled with resolve.

With those final words, he collapsed, his body falling forward.

Half-Elf Scout caught him, shaking— his eyes filling with tears. "No, no, no, Sebastian…! Stay with me…! Please, man…!" His voice broke as he tried to cradle his fallen companion.

Female Bishop rushed to them, her hands glowing with divine light as she tried to heal him, but the wounds were too severe. "I'm t-trying," she stammered, with her voice thick with desperation as the light flickered in her hands. "I… I can't…!"

Half-Elf Scout broke down; tears streaming down his face as he screamed for Myrmidon Monk, while holding his limp body in his arms. His voice echoed through the frozen throne room, filled with heartbreak and anguish.

"SEBESTIAAAAAAAN! NOOOOOOO!"

That scream pierced through Captain's calm, unfeeling resolve. His eye narrowed, and he could feel something in him snap. His body erupted in a surge of crimson lightning— arcs of red electricity crackling across his skin, with his hair standing on end as the energy pulsed through him.

The snow dragon turned its attention to him, letting out another roar as it lunged— its massive maw gaping wide to crush him.

But Captain was faster.

n an instant, he leaped into the air, his katana flashing as it carved through the beast's tail in a spray of blood and ice. He moved with the speed and precision of a master— his blade cutting through the dragon's thick scales like they were nothing.

The dragon howled in agony, thrashing wildly, but Captain was relentless.

His katana moved with blinding speed, slicing through its wings, its legs, its neck— each strike accompanied by a burst of crimson lightning that scorched the dragon's flesh. Blood sprayed across the throne room— coating the walls and floor in thick, dark streaks. Captain's final strike was a downward slash that tore the dragon's head from its body in one fluid motion.

The beast collapsed in a heap of blood and ice, with its massive body falling apart in pieces— torn to shreds by Captain's ruthless assault. The throne room was silent, save for the crackling of lightning around Captain as he stood over the dragon's remains, with his katana dripping with blood.

As the room fell into eerie quiet, Female Bishop and Female Wizard knelt beside Myrmidon Monk— their voices choked with sobs as they tried in vain to save him. Female Wizard's staff clattered to the floor as she buried her face in her hands— her sobs echoing through the chamber. Female Bishop muttered prayers under her breath— her tears falling freely as her hands glowed with futile magic.

Half-Elf Scout was still cradling Myrmidon's body, with his hands trembling as he whispered his name over and over. His once-cocky demeanor shattered into raw grief.

Even Female Warrior, the stalwart one of their group, wiped her eyes— trying to keep her emotions in check. She tightened her grip on her spear, her knuckles white as she walked up beside Captain— doing her best to hold back her tears.

She glanced at him, her voice shaky. "W-We need to finish this."

Captain didn't reply. His face was cold, emotionless— his eye still glowing with residual power as he walked forward. The two of them moved across the blood-soaked floor, stepping over the bodies of dark elves and the shattered remains of the snow dragon. At the far end of the throne room, huddled in a ball atop a jagged, icy throne, was the Snow Lord.

She was just a child— a preteen dark elf with long white hair, her body covered in bruises and scars. Her white fur clothes were torn, and her eyes were wide with terror as she cowered, curling into herself. She was shaking, her voice a broken whisper. "Please… Leave me alone…"

Female Warrior raised her spear, her eyes filled with fury. "It ends here!" She stepped forward, ready to deliver the final blow.

But Captain reached out and grabbed her spear— stopping her mid-strike. She turned to him in surprise, with her eyes meeting his cold, crimson stare. He didn't say a word, just gave her a look that told her everything. She lowered her spear slowly, stepping back.

Captain moved past her, his expression unreadable as he approached the cowering Snow Lord. She whimpered— her voice barely audible. "Please… D-Don't…"

Without a word, Captain sheathed his katana. He reached down, grabbing her wrist with a firm but not harsh grip. His voice was cold, but final. "You're coming with me."

And with that, the battle was over. The throne room, now a tomb of blood and ice, echoed with the cries of the grieving and the silence of the dead.

Author's notes: Two for one, today! This chapter was fun to write, and was a nice way of me showing just how formidable Captain is, along with the rest of his team. Please continue to send your ideas for the sequel in the comments, or add me on discord: sasariou2

Thank you again for the support!