Carlon – Mountain Caves, Year 8002 A.A.
The wind howled through the ragged maw of the cave, carrying with it dust, fragments of brittle leaves, and the distant scent of moss and stone. Beyond the cavern's jagged entrance lay a valley of broken rock and sparse, wind-bent trees, but within, shadows moved like living things, cast and twisted by the glow of ancient and dead mana crystals embedded in the rough-hewn walls.
Kon Kaplan stood at the heart of that cavern—legs braced, shoulders squared, claws half-curled at his sides. His orange fur bristled under the oppressive weight of hostile Mana, and his yellow ponytail swayed gently with each slow, controlled breath. One golden eye burned bright, his black eyepatch, fixed unwaveringly ahead. His twin swords remained sheathed, but the stillness about him was the stillness of a coiled predator.
Opposite him, the Punisher Duo waited.
Sahira stood tall and serpentine, emerald scales gleaming in the flickering light. Her cobra hood was flared ever so slightly, and at the center of her brow, the golden third eye pulsed with a baleful glow. Malice curled in every line of her posture; her very presence seemed to coil around the air itself.
Beside her, Baraz loomed—a mountain of flesh and horn. Purple flames licked across his broad shoulders, and dark Mana coiled and sparked around the length of his horn. His hooves had cracked the stone beneath them from the sheer force of his stance.
Kon's jaw tightened. This was no longer reconnaissance. This was survival.
He shifted his gaze over his shoulder—and his breath caught. Kopa Boga stood frozen, antlers tipped forward, one arm half-raised in a defensive stance. His green eyes had dimmed into a cloudy glaze, swallowed by unnatural control.
"Kopa!" Kon barked, voice raw.
No answer. Kopa's chest rose and fell mechanically, and behind him, the scattered refugees stood equally transfixed—shadows of themselves, trapped in Sahira's grasp.
Kon's chest tightened, claws digging deep furrows into his palms.
Damn it. She caught them all.
Sahira's third eye flared brighter, and her lips curved into a knowing smile. "You're tenacious, Wild Tiger," she drawled, the words dripping with venomous amusement. "But even Hazël Lords bend to me when their guard slips."
Kon's golden eye burned hotter. "He's not gone," he growled. "Not yet."
Kopa's body trembled—a shudder that ran from antler to hoof—as if battling chains invisible to the eye. But then, before Kon could speak again, Kopa's hands began to blacken, stone crawling up from his fingertips to his forearms.
"Kopa! Stop! Stop fighting it!" Kon shouted, voice hoarse with urgency. "It's the only way—you've got to yield!"
The cavern seemed to hold its breath. For a heartbeat, the stone climbed higher—but then, with visible effort, Kopa forced his shoulders to relax. The creeping transmutation slowed… and halted.
"Hmm," Sahira purred, tracing a claw along the edge of her lips, gaze fixed on Kopa as if considering a fresh piece of prey. "But he will be mine in the end."
Almost as if answering her, Kopa's hooves slammed into the rocky ground. The mana-laced stomp rippled through stone, and from the earth itself, vines and roots erupted—crimson and thorned, twisting and spiraling toward Kon like living spears.
"Forest Emergence," Sahira whispered, almost lovingly, savoring each syllable.
Kon exhaled sharply, claws flashing out.
"Swordless Style: Bölünme Darbesi—Severing Blow!"
Golden arcs lanced through the gloom. His claws traced wide, burning strokes through the oncoming vines, severing them mid-rush. Thorns and leaves split and scattered, turning to dust before they could touch him.
Without hesitation, Kon lunged forward, his paw slamming palm-first against the cold stone. A ripple of yellow energy burst outward, forming a half-dome barrier around Kopa—an improvised cage to trap his friend in safety, cutting him off from Sahira's immediate influence.
"Sleep it off," Kon muttered through clenched teeth, sweat rolling down his neck. "You'll thank me later."
But the cavern shook again. A deeper, heavier tremor this time, rolling outward like a distant avalanche. Dust poured from cracks above, and the shadows danced wildly.
When it cleared, Kon stood between the refugees and the Punisher Duo, yellow energy shimmering around him. His face was twisted in fury, the single golden eye burning with cold resolve.
"That…" Kon growled, breath rasping, "…was a huge mistake."
Baraz's massive frame shifted. The purple flames across his shoulders flared to life, casting cruel, flickering shadows up the cavern walls.
"Twenty percent output," Baraz intoned, each word a rumble that seemed to vibrate the very rock beneath them. Mana gathered at his horn, coiling dense and violent, warped by Shadow corruption.
"Implosion."
The energy swirled into a single, seething orb. Baraz swung his head forward—and the blast hurtled toward Kon, leaving an afterimage of violet flame in its wake.
Kon's instincts screamed. He braced, aura flaring around his body in golden light—but it wasn't enough. Just defending wouldn't get them anywhere. He had to go on the offensive. His heart pounded in his ears. Not enough, not with them amplified by the Shadow… not while protecting everyone else.
Damn it. There's no way I can take them both down like this. Not without showing what I really am. Not yet.
His hand hovered, trembling, over the hilt of one of his swords.
The blast drew closer, warping the air around it.
BOOOOOOM.
A crystal wall erupted from the stone before Kon—blue and pure, its surface veined with living mana. The Implosion struck it dead-on, power rippling outward, rocking the cavern with thunderous force—but the shield held. Cracks spidered across its surface, but it did not break.
Dust billowed across the chamber. As it settled, a figure stood beside Kon, framed by the fractured glow.
Adam Kurt.
His fur, deep blue and sleek, bore subtle yellow streaks in the long hair that brushed his shoulders. Across his brow, the yellow blindfold fluttered gently, hiding the faint crystalline glow beneath. His bare wolf paws moved soundlessly over the broken stone. The greenish-blue robe billowed faintly in the cavern's dying air currents. At his back, a sheathed sword—its sheath oddly short, almost dagger-sized—rested with quiet promise. And over his left shoulder, as if etched in dark ink, the Hazël #1 tattoo glowed faintly.
"You almost let your true strength show just now," Adam said, voice soft yet edged with quiet command. He didn't look at Kon as he spoke.
Kon stepped back, panting, sweat trailing down his muzzle. "Didn't have much choice," he rasped.
Adam's head tilted slightly, blindfold shifting with the motion. "But you stopped."
Kon looked away, golden eye narrowing. "You here to take over?"
Adam's tail swayed once, slow and deliberate. "Depends," he murmured. "I'm here to make sure you don't push too far."
Baraz stomped forward, stone splintering beneath his hooves, violet flame licking hungrily across his massive shoulders. "You…" he rumbled, voice dark with recognition, "…you are the one who—"
"Quiet," Sahira spat, her tongue flickering. The golden eye at her brow flared bright, casting a sickly glow across the stone. Her voice dropped into a hiss, low and sharp. "Kurtcan's wielder…"
For the first time, a crack formed in her composure. She stepped back, scales rippling. "So, the stories are true."
Kon said nothing. He drew closer to Adam, claws flexing, golden eye fixed on Baraz.
"I guess this makes us even," Kon muttered, breath still ragged, "for you being an asshole earlier."
Adam's lips curved in the barest hint of a smirk. "I'll collect later."
Side by side, Tiger and Wolf faced the Punisher Duo. The cavern trembled around them, dust falling like ash, and shadows gathered in silent witness.
Far above, ancient rock groaned in protest at the power that now coiled below. And for a single, suspended breath, the mountain itself seemed to wait.