The mara-struck lunged.
Kevin didn't move until the last possible moment.
The creature swung a corrupted blade once a Cloud Knight's weapon, now warped and jagged. Fast. Practiced. The muscle memory of a warrior still existed beneath the madness.
Kevin shifted his weight, tilting just enough. The blade whistled past his cheek.
Another mara-struck came from his left, staff spinning in a corrupted martial form. Kevin sidestepped, the weapon cutting through empty air where he'd been.
A third rushed from behind with clawed gauntlets. Kevin turned, raising his forearm. Metal met the rings' shimmer a brief flare of energy absorbing impact. He pushed back, deflecting smoothly.
They're still fighters. The moves are still there, even when everything else is gone.
Just hunger wearing a soldier's face.
The first mara-struck recovered, raising its corrupted blade for another strike.
Kevin's right hand moved.
The Ring of Finality pulsed. Dark light erupted from his palm, solidifying into a lance—sleek black metal etched with faint silver patterns, perfectly balanced.
The mara-struck charged.
Kevin stepped forward, closing distance instead of retreating.
The lance pierced cleanly through the chest.
For a moment, everything stopped.
The mara-struck froze, clouded eyes wide, impaled. Kevin's expression remained calm, almost sorrowful.
"Rest," he said quietly.
He withdrew the lance.
The body began to disintegrate. Not violently the flesh simply dissolved, breaking apart into ash and pale light. The corruption burned away, leaving only fading embers that drifted upward like prayers.
The curse lifted. The soul freed.
Kevin turned toward the remaining two.
They hesitated some buried instinct recognizing danger.
Then hunger won, and they attacked together.
Kevin moved like still water disturbed flowing between strikes, lance deflecting weapons with minimal shifts. Each parry was precise. No wasted motion. No excess force.
Centuries of this. Muscle memory deeper than thought.
He spun the lance, reversed grip, drove it through the second mara-struck's heart.
Another dissolution. Light and ash scattering.
The third lunged desperately.
Kevin sidestepped, let momentum carry it past, then struck from behind—clean, quick, merciful.
The last mara-struck dissolved into drifting embers.
Silence fell over the cargo bay.
Kevin stood alone, lance still in hand, breathing steady. The rings on his fingers dimmed, their light fading to a soft pulse.
Three more freed. Three more who can finally rest.
Then he heard it a voice, sharp with command, echoing from beyond the cargo stacks.
"Miss Tingyun! Fall back! They're already mara-struck we've lost them already!"
Kevin's head turned. The lance in his hand dissolved back into the Ring of Finality.
He walked forward, boots silent on metal flooring, moving toward the voice.
Through a gateway between cargo sections, Kevin found them.
Two Cloud Knights, armor scorched and dented, standing protectively in front of a young woman. She was a Foxian—green eyes, large brown fox ears atop her head, brown hair with red tips tied in a ponytail, and a bushy tail swishing nervously behind her. She wore a sleeveless brown dress with white and red accents, a red sash around her waist held by a golden clasp. In one hand, she held an elegant reticulated fan.
Surrounding them were five more mara-struck, circling like predators.
The fox girl Tingyun, the soldier had called her spotted Kevin immediately. Her eyes widened with hope.
"Hey, you there!" she called out, voice strained but trying to maintain composure. "We need your help!"
Kevin stopped.
Tingyun.
His mind raced. In the game, Tingyun had already been replaced by this point. Phantylia, Emanator of Destruction, wearing her face like a mask. Playing a role.
But Kevin couldn't sense it. Emanators could suppress their energy—hide their true nature if they wished. And Phantylia was cunning. Patient.
Is this really Tingyun? Or is the deception already in place?
He didn't know. Couldn't know. Not without revealing his own nature, his own awareness.
But it doesn't matter right now, Kevin decided. Real or fake, those soldiers need help. And if it is Phantylia... better to keep her close. To watch.
His body moved before his thoughts finished.
One moment, Kevin stood at the gateway.
The next, he was among the mara-struck.
Both rings flared simultaneously.
The Ring of Finality on his right hand transformed dark purple energy coalescing into a blade. Roughly 150 centimeters of solid metal, forged from impossible light. The blade was mostly straight like a greatsword, but curved subtly near the tip—a katana's grace married to European weight. Single-edged, with a thick spine for durability.
The cross-guard widened like a longsword's, but carved with eastern motifs lotus flowers and flowing water etched into dark steel. The grip was wrapped like a katana's, long and oval, allowing him to shift hand placement as needed.
And running through the fuller—the groove along the blade—pulsed that same dark purple light. Not the edge. The core. Like the weapon had a glowing spine of its own.
The Ring of Death and Beginning on his left hand became the lance sleek, elegant, deadly.
Dual-wielding.
The first mara-struck barely registered Kevin's presence before he moved.
The blade swept horizontally one smooth cut. The corrupted warrior's head separated, body beginning to dissolve before it hit the ground. The lance followed, piercing through another mara-struck's chest. Both became ash and light.
The remaining three turned and attacked as one, weapons raised.
Kevin moved between them. The blade deflected a corrupted sword with minimal force just enough to redirect. The lance caught a spear thrust, turned it aside. His feet shifted position constantly, never staying still, always flowing.
Dance without flourish. Efficiency without waste.
The third mara-struck attacked from his blind spot.
Kevin didn't turn his head. The lance reversed in his grip, driven backward through the attacker's chest. It dissolved behind him as he pulled the weapon free.
The fourth lunged from above, leaping with desperate strength.
Kevin raised his blade overhead, catching the descending strike on the flat. He twisted, using the attacker's momentum against them, throwing them off-balance. The lance flashed forward. Another dissolution.
The fifth hesitated some fragment of self-preservation screaming.
Kevin looked at it. Just looked.
The mara-struck fled.
Kevin's left hand shifted. The lance dissolved, immediately reforming as a throwing spear. He released it in one smooth motion.
The weapon flew true, piercing the fleeing warrior through the back. They dissolved mid-stride, and the lance vanished in shimmer, returning to Kevin's finger as a ring.
Silence.
Five mara-struck. Seconds.
Kevin stood among drifting ash and fading light, blade still in hand. His breathing hadn't changed. His expression remained unchanged.
Just another fight. Just another battlefield.
The two Cloud Knights stared, weapons half-raised, clearly unsure whether Kevin was friend or threat.
Tingyun stepped forward, composing herself. She smiled—warm, professional, though relief flickered in her green eyes. "My, my! What impressive skill!"
Kevin opened his mouth to respond
"Kevin! Slow down!"
March's voice echoed through the cargo area. She jogged up, breathing a bit hard from running. Behind her, Welt and Stelle followed at a more measured pace, barely winded.
Kevin turned back to Tingyun, inclining his head slightly. "It's not a problem."
Before anyone could say more, one of the Cloud Knights looked at Tingyun urgently. "Miss Tingyun, the mara-struck have been repelled, b-but there could be other dangers nearby."
The other knight continued, "The situation is serious. Allow us to escort you back to the Sky-Faring Commission immediately."
Tingyun looked at both soldiers calmly, fan folding with a soft snap. "Calm down. I heard you." She glanced at Kevin and the others. "It would be rude of me to depart without thanking our benefactors."
She turned fully toward them, bowing gracefully. "My name is Tingyun, Amicassador of the Luofu Sky-Faring Commission Merchant Guild. May I venture to know the illustrious names of my hero and his comrades?"
March responded before anyone else could. "Illustrious? ...Uh, sure! I'm March 7th, this is Mr. Welt Yang" she gestured enthusiastically, "and this is Stelle."
"Kevin," he said simply when Tingyun's gaze turned to him.
"Thank you all for coming to our aid." Tingyun's expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Although, there is one thing I don't understand. The Starskiff Haven is under lockdown. Since none of you are Xianzhou residents, may I ask how you came to be here?"
Her tone grew sharper, more professional. "And if you cannot offer an explanation, I'm afraid these Cloud Knights will have to escort you out."
Kevin raised an eyebrow slightly. These soldiers couldn't handle a few mara-struck, yet she's so confident they can escort us out?
But he said nothing.
Welt stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. "We called for port transfer and received no response. But then someone opened the Jade Gate for us. When we arrived, there was no one to be found, so we started making our own way through."
Tingyun crossed her arms, fox ears tilting forward. "How can that be? My ship was the last one into the port before the Jade Gate shut. The Sky-Faring Commission has already locked down the Starskiff Haven entirely."
Welt fixed his glasses, hand moving to his chin thoughtfully. "We're telling the truth. You could verify it by checking the access history of the Jade Gate." He paused. "W-We found it strange ourselves when the gate opened but no one came to greet us."
Tingyun thought for a moment, then looked up. "You're with the Astral Express?"
Welt nodded. "You've heard of us?"
Tingyun's expression shifted to one of troubled concern. "Indeed I have. Sigh... You've arrived at a bad time. The Xianzhou has suffered an accident. Whether you're here for leisure, treatment, or trade, I'm afraid you won't be able to proceed with it."
She gestured with her fan. "For your safety, you should hurry to the Central Starskiff Haven and take refuge. I can take you to Madam Yukong of the Sky-Faring Commission and let her decide how to proceed."
Welt's expression turned serious, arms crossing. "We caught wind of the incident you mentioned. That's why we're here, Miss Tingyun, to help the Xianzhou seal the Stellaron."
Tingyun's hand goes to her waist, sounding slightly more cheerful. "Hehe, the actions of your companion already revealed your kind hearts!" Her smile dims slightly. "Sadly... I can't make any promises. You're outsiders, and only Madam Yukong has the authority to consider your offer."
She opens her fan with a flourish, the painted surface catching the dim cargo bay light. "But don't worry Madam Yukong is reasonable. Come on, I'll lead the way."
March pumps her fist, bouncing on her heels. "Alright! Let's go meet this Madam Yukong!"
Stelle nods quietly, adjusting her bat on her shoulder.
Kevin remains silent, watching Tingyun carefully as she turns to lead them deeper into the Luofu, her tail swaying with each step.
That faint discordance is still there. Something off beneath the perfect performance.
But whether it's danger or just paranoia... I can't tell yet.
The rings pulse softly against his fingers, sharing his uncertainty.
Welt falls into step beside Kevin, hands clasped behind his back. He's quiet for a moment, observing the path ahead. Then, adjusting his glasses with one hand, "You handle yourself well in combat."
Kevin glances at him, noting the way Welt's eyes remain forward, just acknowledging.
Welt doesn't press. Just nods slightly, as if confirming something to himself. "The Xianzhou has... complications. Old politics. Older secrets." He pauses, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Not everything here is what it seems."
Kevin looks ahead at Tingyun's swishing tail, her cheerful demeanor as she gestures animatedly while chatting with March. His hand brushes the Ring of Death and Beginning unconsciously.
"I know," he says quietly.
Welt gives him one more considering look, then lets the matter drop, returning his hands to behind his back.
As the group moves through the cargo bay toward the deeper sections of the Luofu, ash and embers from the freed mara-struck drift upward like prayers.
Eight more souls released.
Countless more still trapped in the curse.
The real battle hasn't even started yet.