Meanwhile, back at the cabin, Winter's attention snapped to the door as three sharp knocks echoed through the room. His first thought was that Eldo had lost his nerve and returned early, but something felt... off.
The knocking grew more insistent, harder, more demanding. Winter's instincts screamed danger, but he moved toward the door anyway. Sometimes the only way to spring a trap was to trigger it yourself.
When he pulled the door open, he found himself face to face with a woman whose hand rested casually on the katana at her hip. Behind her stood a man with vibrant red hair that fell past his shoulders, dressed all in black, looking away as if the whole situation bored him.
The woman's eyes locked onto Winter's with predatory intensity. "Are you #31537?"
Her hand tightened on the katana's hilt, ready to draw at the slightest provocation.
"Well, if it isn't the welcoming committee," Winter drawled, leaning against the doorframe with forced casualness. "You know, most people just send a card."
No. 3's hand tightened on her katana. In a flash of steel too quick for the eye to follow, she drew and re-sheathed her blade. The door split cleanly in half, the top portion sliding off with a dull thud. Winter had barely managed to lean back in time, a few strands of his hair drifting to the floor.
"Cute trick," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder. "Mind if we take this outside? The kid would kill me if we trashed his cabin."
No. 3's eyes narrowed, but she nodded curtly. "A final request before death. I can respect that." She turned to her companion. "No. 2, stay out of this."
The red-haired man waved dismissively, already backing away. "Whatever. Just make it quick. We've already lost two members tracking this guy down."
Winter stepped out into the open air, ice crystals forming around his hands. "You know, for elite assassins, you guys sure love to yap."
No. 3 settled into a combat stance, her katana gleaming in the light. Winter formed two ice daggers, one in each hand, his expression hardening into something cold and dangerous.
The clash of steel against ice echoed through the forest as Winter and No. 3 engaged in their deadly dance. His ice daggers shattered against her katana again and again, but he kept reforming them, each time adjusting their density, their shape, searching for any advantage.
"You're only delaying the inevitable," No. 3 taunted, her blade singing through the air in precise arcs. "Your weapons can't match my steel."
Winter ducked under another lethal swing, conjuring a fresh dagger to replace his shattered one. "Maybe," he grunted, parrying a thrust that would have pierced his heart, "but I've got plenty of ice."
Frustration began to creep into his movements as another dagger exploded into crystalline shards. No matter how he formed them, his ice weapons couldn't withstand the superior craftsmanship of her katana. But still, he pressed on, refusing to give ground.
"Your fighting style speaks volumes. You were clearly the best in your division," No. 3 observed, her blade weaving an intricate pattern of death. "But you're still just a defective weapon that needs to be disposed of."
Winter's eyes narrowed as he conjured two more daggers. "Funny thing about weapons," he said, frost spreading from his feet across the ground. "Sometimes they turn against their wielders."
No. 3's next strike cleaved through both his daggers, but Winter was already moving, spinning away from her blade. The dance continued, neither willing to concede, their battle transforming the peaceful forest clearing into a graveyard of shattered ice and sliced earth.
Meanwhile, in the depths of hell, Eldo stood before his uncle's flaming throne, emotions warring inside him. Sam's familiar features flickered within the flames, exactly as Eldo remembered him.
"You've grown strong, nephew," Sam said, rising from his throne. "I always knew you had potential. That's why I've been watching over you, waiting for the right moment."
"But... how?" Eldo managed, still struggling to process the reality before him.
Sam's smile widened. "Because you're special, Eldo. You're the only one worthy of becoming my successor. The power you've barely tapped into? That's just the beginning. Together, we could reshape the world itself."
"I..." Eldo hesitated, memories of their shared past flooding back.
"Remember how they treated you?" Sam's voice grew softer, more persuasive. "The bullies, the mockery, the isolation. With this power, no one would ever dare hurt you again."
Eldo's hands clenched into fists, flames flickering around them. For a moment, the temptation was overwhelming. But then he remembered Winter's words about facing their demons, and Kyo's unwavering friendship.
"No," he said quietly, then with growing conviction. "No. I won't become what I feared. I won't be the bully."
Sam's warm expression didn't waver, but something cold crept into his eyes. "I had hoped you would understand, nephew. Family should stick together, after all..."
The clash of steel against ice fills the forest clearing as No.3 presses her attack. Her katana flashes with deadly precision while Winter conjures shield after shield, each one shattering under her relentless assault.
"Your defenses can't last forever," No.3 taunts, her blade singing through the air.
Winter stumbles back, his arms trembling from the effort of maintaining his ice barriers. Blood trickles from a dozen small cuts where her blade found gaps in his defense. "They don't need to—" his retort cuts off as her katana slices through his shoulder, drawing a pained gasp.
Their deadly dance continues, but Winter's movements grow increasingly desperate. No.3's strikes come faster, more precise, while his ice shields crack easier with each passing second. His breath comes in ragged gasps, vision blurring from blood loss and exhaustion.
"I expected more from the famous Winter Assassin," No.3 sneers, her blade weaving an intricate pattern of death.
Winter's back hits a tree. There's nowhere left to retreat. No.3's katana flashes toward his throat in what should be a killing blow—
Suddenly, through sheer instinct, a blade of steel erupts from Winter's palm, catching her weapon mid-strike. The impact sends shockwaves through both fighters.
"Impossible!" No.3 gasps as her katana splits in two, the broken blade spinning away into the underbrush.
Winter stares at his own hand in shock, the metallic blade extending from his flesh something he never knew he could create.
"That's enough," No.2 declares, his voice cold with barely contained rage. "This ends now."
"No!" No.3 struggles against his grip. "This is my fight!"
"Get over yourself," No.2 snaps. "You're useless without your weapon. We're leaving..." His eyes lock onto Winter's exhausted form. "But know this—I will personally erase you off this planet when we meet again."
Despite No.3's continued protests, No.2 lifts her limp body and vanishes into the forest depths. Winter slumps against a tree, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The fight has left him drained, but alive.
"Well," he mutters to himself, "that could have gone a lot worse."
Gathering what strength remains, Winter limps back toward the cabin where Kyo still lies unconscious. He can only hope Eldo is faring better in his own battle.