The Ashen Expanse of the Mourning lived up to its name.

  Gray winds rolled endlessly across the broken land, carrying fine cinders that clung to skin and breath alike. Jagged stone pillars rose from the earth like the ribs of a dead god, and far above them—woven between massive blackened trees—hung the Canopy Village.

  Rope bridges swayed gently. Wooden platforms, reinforced with ashwood and bone resin, formed a layered settlement suspended high above the corrupted ground. Dark-skinned villagers moved quickly between levels, their clothes practical, their eyes sharp. This village had survived storms, beasts, and wars.

  It would not survive Yurei.

  A sudden silence fell—unnatural, absolute.

  Then the air froze.

  Frost crept along bark and rope alike, blooming outward in perfect crystalline patterns. Leaves stiffened mid-rustle. Breath turned to mist.

  A figure stood on one of the upper platforms, his form wrapped in writhing darkness. His presence bent the air, pulled at the soul itself.

  Yurei—the Soul Devourer.

  “Run!” someone screamed.

  Too late.

  The void behind Yurei’s chest opened like a wound in reality. Dark currents spiraled outward, and translucent shapes—souls—were torn violently from bodies below. Villagers collapsed where they stood, eyes empty, voices cut short.

  Yurei tilted his head slightly, as if listening.

  “No,” he murmured, voice layered with echoes that did not belong to one throat. “Not here… not yet.”

  A spear of ice erupted from his palm, impaling a support pillar. The platform shattered, sending homes and people crashing into the gray abyss below. At the same time, roots from nearby trees twisted unnaturally, animated by his control over wildlife, crushing escape routes and ensnaring fleeing villagers.

  “Sir Jian!” a woman cried. “Sir Jian, please!”

  From the far end of the village, a man stepped forward.

  He wore no armor of legend, no divine aura. Only resolve.

  Sir Jian Luocheng, Royal Knight Captain of Crestfall, held his weapon upright—the Heavenly Jade Spear: Spade. The jade shaft glowed softly, etched with ancient runes that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.

  “So it’s you,” Sir Jian said calmly. “The devourer.”

  Yurei turned. His hollow gaze fixed onto the knight.

  “At last,” Yurei replied. “Your soul carries… weight.”

  Villagers gathered behind Sir Jian, trembling.

  “You’ll go no further,” Sir Jian said. “Even if I fall.”

  Yurei stepped forward—and the ground froze with each step.

  The clash was immediate.

  Sir Jian moved first, jade spear flashing as he thrust. The weapon hummed, cutting through frozen air and tearing a line across Yurei’s torso.

  For a fraction of a second—hope sparked.

  Then the wound sealed.

  Yurei caught the spear with one hand. Ice crawled up the jade shaft, threatening to encase it entirely.

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  “Skill,” Yurei said softly. “Courage. Loyalty.”

  Darkness surged.

  Sir Jian tried to pull back, but the void expanded, locking onto him. The Soul Devour activated—not violently, but inevitably.

  “No—!” Sir Jian gritted his teeth. “People of the Canopy—run!”

  His soul was torn free in a surge of light and shadow.

  Yurei inhaled.

  Memories, techniques, battlefield instincts—everything Sir Jian was—flowed into him. The jade spear fell, clattering uselessly against frozen wood.

  The villagers screamed.

  Yurei straightened, power settling into him like a second spine.

  “Found you,” he whispered—to the soul now gone.

  Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed across the shattered platform.

  Clink.

  Clink.

  A man walked through the frost without resistance, ash crunching under his boots. He wore a long coat scorched at the hem, hands relaxed at his sides, expression calm—almost bored.

  Kael Ardent.

  Yurei turned sharply.

  “…You,” he said, voice tightening.

  Kael looked around at the ruined village, at the frozen bodies, at the empty platforms swaying in the wind.

  “So this is what you’ve been doing,” Kael said. “Messy.”

  Yurei’s aura flared. Ice spikes burst upward, roots lunged, shards of frozen air tore toward Kael from every angle.

  None of them landed.

  They shattered. Bent. Missed.

  Kael kept walking.

  “You can’t consume me,” Kael said casually. “And you can’t win.”

  Yurei snarled and unleashed everything—absolute zero swallowing the canopy, wildlife turning feral, souls screaming as power layered upon power.

  Kael stopped.

  “Enough.”

  The pressure snapped.

  Yurei was sent skidding backward, crashing through three platforms. His form cracked with frost and shadow alike.

  For the first time—he bled.

  Far away, in the polished halls of Valenreach, another battle unfolded.

  King Akiyama Ashen stood at the center of the council chamber, fists clenched.

  “Crestfall is gone,” he said. “Its people live in tents. Children sleep on ash. We must end this war.”

  High Chancellor Marrowen Kael scoffed. “End it? After all that’s been invested?”

  Lady Seraphine Dorne folded her hands. “Sacrifice is inevitable.”

  King Ardic Valenreach leaned back, eyes cold. “Besides, Ashen… you’re not even true royalty.”

  The room stilled.

  “Your bloodline took Fiester after the original kingdom fell,” Ardic continued. “Two centuries ago. Pretenders.”

  Akiyama’s eyes burned.

  “And your kingdom hides behind walls,” he shot back. “While mine lets its people escape.”

  Laughter echoed.

  “A kingdom without walls is stupidity,” Garrick Thorne said.

  Akiyama turned away.

  “This discussion is over.”

  He walked out.

  Back in the Ashen Expanse, Yurei dragged himself upright, staring at Kael Ardent—unharmed.

  For the first time in a very long time…

  Yurei chose fear.