The party, freshly restored from their earlier battles, pressed onward into the Black Witch’s domain. With each step, the forest darkened as vibrant hues faded to muted grays. Instead of the usual cacophony of monsters, only the quiet rustle of corrupted leaves and the crunch of brittle bones underfoot filled the silence. Skeletal remains, stripped clean of all flesh, littered the ground and transformed the once-vibrant woods into a grim graveyard of silent witnesses.

  A hush fell over the group as they advanced. Every member felt as though unseen eyes were tracking their every move, while a malignant energy pressed against their senses, threatening to smother their resolve.

  Cyrus broke the silence with a wry remark, his tone low enough to carry in the oppressive stillness. “I know you’re the hero, Noah, but you’ve garnered the attention of too many powerful beings. Two gods, a Great Old One, and arguably the strongest non-divine alive. Your luck—or fate—is unsettlingly impressive.”

  Ava, clinging gently to Noah’s arm, offered a soft counterpoint. “That’s just how my Noah is,” she said soothingly. “His charisma gathers the attention of anyone—gods or monsters.” She rested her head against his shoulder, trying to ease the tension.

  Adam exhaled and glanced back. “Please, lovebirds. Save the cuddling for after the mission.” There was firmness in his tone, though a glimmer of amusement surfaced as he scanned the shadows.

  Noah nodded, his gaze narrowing as he surveyed the darkening forest. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly. “I’m not lowering my guard. Not here.”

  A few paces behind, Lucy murmured almost inaudibly, “I wonder if I could get that close to Cyrus…”

  Cyrus, ever vigilant, caught her comment. “Lucy, did you say something?” he asked, puzzled.

  Flushing slightly, Lucy quickly shook her head. “Oh, nothing at all,” she insisted, averting her gaze. Cyrus shrugged it off and continued forward.

  Ava leaned in to whisper to Noah, “She definitely likes him, don’t you think?”

  Noah glanced back at Lucy and Cyrus, their silhouettes faint in the dim light, then offered a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  Ava sighed dramatically, stifling a giggle in the eerie silence. “So dense. When all this is over, we really need to play matchmaker.”

  Noah’s smile softened. “Sure. Whatever makes you happy.”

  After venturing deeper, the group emerged into a wide clearing dominated by a massive castle that seemed to have grown from the forest itself. Moss and vines crawled across its stone walls in intricate patterns, and towering spires reached upward into the perpetual gloom. If the stories were true, the castle had stood here since the First Apocalypse—a mute witness to centuries of strife.

  A heavy, ornate gate—entwined with wrought iron vines and twisted floral motifs—barred their entry. In front of it, a lone figure sat on the mossy ground, absorbed in a book. As the party approached, the stranger lazily turned a page, seemingly indifferent to their presence.

  The man’s long purple hair framed emerald eyes with inky black sclera. He wore a simple black cloak with meticulous white gloves, but the large scorpion tail curling behind him was most unsettling, its wicked stinger catching the meager light. Numerous worn books were scattered around him.

  Noah, Ava, Cyrus, Adam, and Lucy studied the figure warily, weapons at the ready as tension filled the silent courtyard. Slowly, the stranger lifted his gaze from the pages, his eyes narrowing with annoyance rather than fear.

  “I really didn’t want to have to do my job,” he drawled, disinterest plain in his tone. “What a pain.”

  He rose to his feet and dusted off his cloak, his tail twitching like a subtle warning that he was no harmless bystander. Gently, he placed the romance novel he’d been reading—a lackluster tale of a mind-reading girl and her obsessive lover—atop a small stack of equally mediocre paperbacks

  “The name’s Azio,” he continued, sighing heavily. “It’s not great to meet you. Do yourselves a favor and leave. I hate doing this.”

  Noah frowned, stepping forward. “Then why don’t you quit? If you don’t want to do this, why stand in our way at all?”

  Azio’s lips twisted into a sour smile. “If I could, I would. But that damned Black Witch would kill me if I abandoned my post. So here we are.” He raised his arms in a half-hearted shrug.

  Cyrus snorted, crossing his arms. “We’ll kill you if you don’t step aside. At least you have a fighting chance if you run now.”

  Azio clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing. “I’ll take my chances with you novices.” He lifted his gloved hands, and a purple aura flared around his forearms. “Ability activate: Psycho Cutter.”

  The aura formed two shimmering blades—violet arcs of energy that crackled with psychic might. Azio’s body tensed as he rushed forward without warning.

  Noah barely dodged the initial slash, a blur of violet radiance passing just inches from his face. Azio’s speed was astonishing, a stark contrast to his earlier nonchalance, and the near-miss made Noah’s heart pound. He braced himself, gripping his sword tighter.

  The rest of the party moved in to overwhelm him, but the scorpion-tailed warlock merely smirked and raised his tail high. “No you don’t,” Azio said casually. “Warlock Curse: Hellfire.”

  At his command, a surge of purple flames erupted from his tail, spiraling outward in a fiery vortex that encircled Noah and Azio, cutting off the rest of the party. The eerie glow painted the grim forest in sinister shadows.

  Ava cried out as she and the others were forced back by the intense heat. Cyrus narrowed his eyes. “Of course he’s a king’s candidate. Noah, be careful—he’s one of the black mist. Only the most skilled king’s candidates can pull off an ability like that!”

  “Would’ve been nice to know earlier,” Noah muttered through gritted teeth. He lunged at Azio, his blade cutting into the warlock’s flesh, only to watch in shock as the black blood recoiled and flowed back into the wound, sealing it instantly.

  “He’s a warlock, how annoying,” Adam growled from behind the fire’s barrier. “At least he’s not a monarch type.”

  Cyrus’s voice was muffled by the roar of flames. “I’m a dark knight type, and my ice should shield me. I’ll join Noah inside. The rest of you, stand by and wait.”

  As Cyrus spoke, a dramatic transformation overtook him. Black liquid seeped over his lab coat, devouring it until not a trace of white remained. His attire turned pitch-black, and sleek obsidian blades extended from his sleeves. His new armor and cloak gave him a formidable, shadowy appearance, enhanced by the raven-feathered mask. He looked every bit the harbinger of death.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  With a determined stride, Cyrus stepped into the flames. They flared around him, but his dark mist and ice ability shielded him, as if the flames parting grudgingly to allow his passage.

  Azio tilted his head, his emerald eyes curious. “A black knight? Why would another king’s candidate fight me? The Black Witch outlawed us from fighting each other,” he said, tone half-amused, half-perplexed.

  Cyrus’s voice hissed coldly through his mask. “I’m here to hunt her and rob her blind. What makes you think I care about her rules?”

  Azio chuckled darkly. “Fair enough. Then I suppose I’ll just have to kill you two first,” he whispered, a subtle grin playing on his lips as he summoned black flames from his tail. With a swift motion, he melted the shards of ice Cyrus hurled at him.

  Noah seized the opening Cyrus created, dark energy curling around his blade. Each swing unleashed arcs of inky shadow through the inferno, aimed straight at Azio. Meanwhile, Cyrus carved ice weapons from thin air, launching spears and daggers of frozen crystal with relentless precision.

  Azio danced between them, a violet aura flaring around his arms. He parried Cyrus’s ice with lashes of black flame and bent impossibly low to avoid Noah’s slashes. His scorpion tail flicked out to deflect a stray bolt of dark energy. Though outnumbered, he fought with serpentine grace, a wry smile never leaving his face.

  Azio’s posture shifted; the violet aura around his arms grew brighter. His psycho cutters crackled, edges sparking like distant thunder. Hellfire still raged around them, its ring of searing heat forcing everyone into claustrophobic combat.

  Cyrus moved in to close the gap, but Azio’s tail spat black flames that flared into a temporary wall. Cyrus snarled beneath his plague doctor mask, summoning razor-sharp ice shards with a thrust of his palm. Hissing steam erupted as the shards vanished against the infernal blaze.

  Azio’s smirk deepened. He casually kept the dark knight at bay while turning his attention to Noah. The warlock lunged, psycho cutters slashing in a brutal cross pattern. Noah ducked under the first strike, heart pounding as the second blade slashed perilously close to his chest.

  Recovering, Noah retaliated with a swift upward cut, dark energy trailing behind his sword. Azio twisted aside, narrowly avoiding the blow, but Noah pressed in with a downward slash that forced Azio to lurch back.

  Cyrus shaped a curved scythe of ice and hurled it in frustration, but Azio intensified his black fire with barely a thought, melting the blade mid-flight. The ring of hellfire roared, sealing Cyrus out. He cursed under his breath as the echoes of steel and aura grew more frantic within.

  With a sudden push, Azio advanced on Noah. “Psycho Cutter: Crescent Fang!” he roared, slashing both arms in overlapping arcs. Twin crescents of violet energy tore through the air, forcing Noah onto the defensive. He raised his sword, darkness thickening around the metal to blunt the impact, yet the force still staggered him.

  Azio lunged again, feinting left before driving his right cutter low. Noah barely deflected, sparks flaring off their colliding weapons. Azio’s emerald eyes glimmered with an eerie hunger, pressing his advantage as Noah’s arms began to tremble under the strain.

  On the far side of the flames, Cyrus narrowed his eyes. He poured more power into his icy spear, the air around him turning frigid. Driving the spear at the roaring barrier, he slowly drilled through the flames inch by inch.

  Azio felt the sudden strain on his hellfire. Distracted for a heartbeat, he hesitated—enough for Noah to slash across Azio’s shoulder, a line of black ichor sizzling in the cut. Azio winced but the wound sealed almost instantly. “Persistent… but you’re losing ground,” he said through gritted teeth.

  Noah’s breath came in ragged gasps, but he refused to yield. He channeled darkness into a fierce slash, forcing Azio to sidestep.

  “Enough,” Azio growled, launching a flurry of slashes that drove Noah backward. Each impact rattled Noah’s sword, and he was pushed into a desperate retreat. Azio feinted high, then pivoted to slash low at Noah’s leg. Noah realized too late—Azio was within his guard, the psycho cutter poised to strike home.

  Noah grimaced as Azio’s relentless blows chipped away at his strength. He staggered, clutching his side, only to feel a sudden warmth surge through his veins. His draconic lineage awakened, healing his wounds with a rush of power. White scales formed across his arms and shoulders, and a faint glow filled his eyes.

  Azio paused, startled by Noah’s resurgence. “Still fighting? You really don’t know when to quit, Hero.”

  Noah said nothing. He simply raised his blade, radiant energy flickering at the back of his throat. “Light Dragon Roar!” he shouted. A searing beam of brilliance erupted from his mouth, striking Azio point-blank. The force hurled the warlock backward, and his hellfire barrier flickered.

  Seizing the moment, Cyrus drove an icy spear into the weakened flames. They buckled under the impact, dissolving in a sputter of embers. Without hesitation, Cyrus rushed through the dispersing fire, obsidian blades of ice at the ready.

  Azio twisted in midair, trying to regain his footing, but Cyrus moved with lethal speed. In a single fluid slash, he cut Azio in half. For a moment, the warlock’s body hung in two drifting halves, black mist leaking into the air.

  Then, just as suddenly, Azio reformed. Tendrils of mist knitted his body together, and he landed lightly, emerald eyes flaring in annoyance.

  “Persistent fools,” Azio hissed, raising his shimmering violet psycho cutters. “I’ll tear you apart until you have nothing left to heal.”

  Cyrus met his gaze, calm behind the plague doctor mask. He extended one hand, and the temperature plummeted. Frost crept along the ground, transforming dust and debris into shimmering ice. Azio lunged, but his movement faltered as freezing aura clung to his legs, then climbed to his waist.

  “What—?” Azio gasped. He tried to summon black flames to melt the ice, but Cyrus poured all his focus into a single, crushing wave of elemental power.

  In a heartbeat, ice surged over Azio’s chest, arms, and finally his head. A strangled cry died on the warlock’s lips as his face froze in an expression of shocked fury, his psycho cutters dissolving into harmless sparks inside the rapidly thickening frost.

  Noah, partially scaled and glowing with draconic energy, watched with stunned relief. Both he and Cyrus were clearly spent, but the fight was over at last. Azio lay trapped in a block of crystal-clear ice, motionless. The path to the looming castle gate was now open.

  Cyrus exhaled slowly, tension easing from his posture. He glanced at Noah. “Let’s move on,” he said quietly, the echoes of the battle fading into the stillness of the forest.

  Noah gave a short nod, letting the white scales vanish from his arms. Together, they turned toward the ancient castle, determined to face whatever lurked within.

  Before they reached the towering gate, Ava raised a hand, her expression thoughtful. “Cyrus, earlier you mentioned different classes of king’s candidates. Can you give us a quick rundown? We need every advantage we can get.”

  Cyrus nodded, removing the plague doctor mask and letting it dangle from his belt. “There are three main classes for king’s candidates. People can multi-class, but it usually dilutes their strength. First, my class: the Dark Knight. We shape black mist into armor—offense and defense in one. That Azio we fought? He was Warlock-type, using black mist for curses and conjurations like the flames. And then there are the Monarchs, the rarest and most dangerous: they form entire armies out of black mist, soldiers that only die when you destroy their core. I’m certain the Black Witch is one.”

  Ava processed this with a frown. “So Monarchs are the worst of the lot. Then…” She studied Noah and Cyrus, noting their obvious fatigue from the battle. Noah’s breathing still hitched now and then, and even behind his composure, Cyrus showed signs of strain. “For the next big fight, you two should hang back. You look exhausted.”

  “We’re perfectly fine,” Noah insisted, though he was still catching his breath.

  “Yeah, that fight was easy,” Cyrus added, trying for nonchalance as the darkness coating his clothing receded. A faint tremor in his hand betrayed his weariness.

  Adam shot them both a pointed look. “If you rush in tired, you’ll die. We need everyone at peak condition. Let us—Ava, Lucy, and me—handle the brunt of whatever’s inside.”

  Lucy hesitated, then gently covered Cyrus’s hands with her own. “Please, Cyrus. Jasper’s counting on you. We all are.” A faint blush colored her cheeks, but her sincerity was unmistakable.

  Cyrus blinked, surprised by her earnestness and the contact of her hands. A slight flush crept onto his face. “F-fine,” he said grudgingly, eyes downcast. “But don’t do anything reckless.”

  Noah leaned toward Ava, whispering with a weary smile. “You’re right—they’d make a good match.”

  Ava’s eyes gleamed with quiet delight. “I knew you’d see it,” she teased back.

  Noah straightened, stepping into his leadership role. “Alright. Cyrus and I will hang back unless it’s absolutely necessary. The rest of you, stay sharp and take point.”

  Gently, he placed the romance novel he’d been reading—a lackluster tale of a mind-reading girl and her obsessive lover—atop a small stack of equally mediocre paperbacks"