Chapter Title:Chicken Churry Stew
The wind howled like a warning, gnawing at the cragged peaks of the western flank. Cain and Dakun descended from the sky with a crackling blur of Shamanic energy, snow swirling around their boots as they landed with impact. Before them stretched the endless crimson tide of Red Ice Walkers inhuman, glistening under the pale light like cursed soldiers frozen mid-scream.
Marcus knelt in the bloodied snow, clutching Boris the elder Russian warrior's chest impaled by an ice arrow glowing with malignant frost. The arrow pulsed with red veins of light as it devoured him from the inside, skin paling, breath catching in ragged gasps.
Cain's voice cut the air. "Hey why not take him. Run him through to the SUHA base. See if their surgeons have anything that can fight off ice death. You've got minutes before he's gone."
Marcus looked up, snow dusting his shoulders. "And what the hell are you going to do about all that?" He jerked his chin toward the advancing legion hundreds of red-eyed walkers, moving in perfect unison behind their mounted General, who loomed atop an ice-sculpted steed with a bow forged from frost itself.
Beside Cain, Dakun flexed his fingers, wooden mask shifting slightly on his face as he muttered, "We'll be fine. I've been meaning to nap anyway."
Marcus gave a curt nod. "Just don't get frozen, be careful of that one on the horse there ." Then, clutching Boris tighter, he activated the emergency exit glyph. Their forms pixelated, scattering into strings of code and data shards before vanishing entirely.
Cain cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. "Dakun," he said. "Let's clean this up. I'm going after the boss."
Dakun didn't look up. "Try not to hog all the drama, if you can please do I feel dizzy"
Cain exhaled. "Ultra Step."
( Ultra Step is a Unique ability to the Shaman Hunters that enable them move/teleport at short distance, a simple quick and fast movement skill)
In an instant, Cain vanished, his form flickering like broken film, reappearing mid-air above the frozen battlefield. From his position in the sky, red mist swirled beneath him, blasted upward from the breath of the advancing horde.
"Spirit Manifestation: Embodiment of Air," he said calmly.
His body lightened, weightless now, held aloft by invisible currents. Then, with a steady palm extended:
"Summoning Technique: Spirit Guardian SungMo."
A sudden flash and beside him floated a small, glowing figure. Bright azure light hummed from its soft outline. SungMo — childlike in form, limbs thin as reeds, eyes like full moons blinked.
"CAINNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" the spirit screamed. "I WAS COOKING CHICKEN CHURRY STEW HUHHHHHHHHHHHHH—"
WHAP! It smacked Cain on the forehead with a glowing palm.
"Dammit—SungMo!" Cain barked, rubbing his temple. "I wouldn't call you unless it was important!"
"You always say that," SungMo muttered, arms crossed with its face now disgusted.
Cain gestured downward. "That guy on the frosty unicorn? That's the problem."
SungMo narrowed his wide eyes. "…Yeah. I hate that guy already ."
The spirit unhinged its jaw and opened its mouth wide. A roar of concentrated, dust-laced vortex winds screamed downward in a tight column. The Red Ice General raised his bow, forming a crystalline ice wall in a second. For a moment the storm clashed with silence.
Then — BOOM.
The wind explosion shattered the ice defense, the General blasted backward off his horse, crashing into the glacier below. Shards of his mount scattered in a burst of brittle frost, vanishing like shattered illusions.
"I got it," SungMo chirped, already spiraling downward. "Let's go!"
Cain followed, diving through the vortex trail with lethal calm.
Below, on the frozen field
Dakun inhaled deeply, eyes half-closed. His words earlier — about being tired — weren't a bluff. He looked at the horde ahead of him and sighed.
He dropped his massive shield, shaped like an ancestral mask, into the snow. It hit with a reverberating thunk. Geometric patterns adorned the mask's surface — twin eye crosses at the center glowing faintly red.
He sat, legs crossed, one hand gripping the shield and then he exhaled with a dizzy face,
"Spirit Manifestation: Masquerade Hollow Mask."
The eyes on the mask snapped open, casting beams of red spirit light across the snow. Beneath the feet of the charging Red Walkers, a second mask appeared — flat, gigantic, carved from shadows, mirroring the one in Dakun's lap.
"Expand Spirit Masquerade."
The phantom mask widened, stretching across the battlefield like a web, fusing with the ice itself.
"Masquerade Mask — Open."
From the cracks of the mask, red energy surged upward in fine, lace-like lines. Every walker caught in the radius froze — then shattered into dust, erased in a pulse of ancestral power.
Dakun let out a yawn. "Mmm. Should've brought my pillow."
⸻
Inside SUHA War Headquarters
Fluorescent lights flickered above the massive strategy table. A colossal screen pulsed with live battle feeds — blue, green, red. Minister Tenzy Alfred leaned forward, fingers steepled. General Soren stood beside him, jaw clenched.
"This is it," Tenzy said. "We've turned the tide."
A sudden wind blast ruptured the control room, shattering monitors. Marcus burst in mid-run, pixel fragments still trailing off his boots. In his arms, Boris groaned, the arrow still embedded in his chest, frost creeping up his veins.
"Somebody help him!" Marcus screamed.
Medics rushed forward, shouting commands.
⸻
Elsewhere — Deep South, Edge of the World
A jagged cliffside loomed above the sea of white mist. From a dark cave mouth, Draven emerged first, eyes narrowed, body in white bandages,followed by Kenzy and Gansu. The sun finally touched their skin for the first time in weeks.
Papa Tunde stood by the edge of the cliff, robes blowing in the chill wind.
Kenzy looked around. "Where's Circe?"
"She's not coming," Tunde replied. "Said she wants to study Draven's body new patterns more, Said… she has to stay behind."
Draven said nothing. Just stepped forward and looked over the edge.
"Let's go."
Together, the three of them leapt from the cliff — falling in silence, cloaks trailing behind like broken wings.