Forbidden Region of the Elemental Race — Inner Mountain Ruins
The clang of swords echoed in the vast stone chamber, once a sacred temple. The ruins were now filled with dark magical light, scattered bones, and strange symbols burning on the walls. In the center, two figures clashed: Veyron and Nocturnus.
The two figures continued to fight, shadows and bones clashing relentlessly. Every step they took scraped the floor. Each slash created dark sparks.
"Hah… too slow, Nocturnus," Veyron sneered, his gaze as cold as an ice blade.
Nocturnus didn't reply. He leaped into the air, his sword aimed at Veyron—but… his movements suddenly stiffened.
His glowing green eyes… trembled. As if something was disturbing his thoughts.
"Wait… Something's wrong," Nocturnus suddenly muttered.
Veyron immediately slammed forward, his shadow magic flowing into his sword. He leaped ahead with a hateful glare.
"Stop mumbling, undead."
SLAASHH!
In an instant, Nocturnus's head flew off. His body stumbled, while his head rolled… then stopped… and started talking.
"…YOU SON OF A BITCH, VEYRON!!!"
Veyron stood panting, his expression flat. "I warned you."
Nocturnus's head shook on the floor, then floated using its own dark magic.
"I was trying to concentrate and find which pathway was damaged! My Kraken just… lost connection. It's out of control!"
"Kraken?" Veyron narrowed his eyes. "You're talking about the one in the sea?"
"YES! The one we sent to stop foreign ships from using the forbidden route. Now, I've lost control. That means…"
"SOMEONE DESTROYED IT!"
The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. Except for the faint floating head and its muttering.
"…and because you CUT OFF my head, my magic brain has a 3-second delay! You idiot!"
Veyron sighed. "In that case, I'll take you to Fulguran. But this is quite embarrassing."
He grabbed Nocturnus's head like a sepak takraw ball.
Suddenly, from the side of the room, RexOssium grinned, watching from his throne of bones.
"HEY! YOU LEFT YOUR BODY BEHIND, IDIOT!"
Nocturnus's head glared—as much as a head can glare.
"HOLD ONTO IT FOR ME, REX! I'll have Spectralis stitch it back on later!"
"I hope your ear doesn't get sewn on crooked," Rex said, then started singing to himself, "A head without a body~ strolls in the afternoon~"
Veyron didn't bother to respond. He strode out of the room, carrying Nocturnus's head.
Velmourn Headquarters — Secret Meeting Hub
Veyron's footsteps echoed in the dark corridor. At the end, Fulguran stood with his back to everyone, gazing at a large world map spread across the stone wall.
When the sound of footsteps stopped, he spoke without turning.
"…Why are you carrying a head?"
"Because this corpse talks too much."
Fulguran slowly turned, his gaze piercing. He raised an eyebrow.
"Explanation."
Nocturnus's head immediately spoke up.
"Lord Fulguran. Our Kraken… was defeated."
The room was silent. Even the blue flames in the corner seemed to stop flickering.
"Impossible," Sylvia whispered from the shadows.
"Someone severed my magical control," Nocturnus continued. "And not with purification… but with raw power. Brutal and incredibly precise. They knew what they were doing."
Fulguran slowly advanced, staring at Nocturnus's head.
"Do you know… who?"
"Not yet. But… they passed through a path that should have been impossible. The Elemental Lands… have never been kind to intruders."
Veyron added, "And they were strong enough to take down a Kraken… which was already undead."
"So…" Fulguran muttered, crossing his arms. "We'll have guests."
"Or… a threat," Spectralis chimed in, appearing from the wall with a floating sound.
Above the Sea — Ship Repairs and a Quiet Night
Evening began to fall slowly. Orange light washed over the deck, still covered in wood splinters and dried Kraken slime. The ship, the Sable Tide, slowed, no longer sailing fast. Some sails were haphazardly hoisted.
On deck, Feran was forging a new mast using metal shards from the ship's storage combined with his magic iron. High temperatures and mana sparks illuminated the air.
"This… is a steel mast?" Captain Dargo asked, still wide-eyed.
"A light alloy," Feran replied. "Stronger than wood, more wind-resistant than gold."
Meanwhile, Altair was forming mast fasteners from thick gold, though not the mast itself.
"Don't worry, Captain, these are just for fasteners. I'm not forcing your ship to stand on a jewelry mast," Altair quipped.
Captain Dargo was still frowning, but he finally nodded, stroking his beard.
"At least this doesn't make my ship look like a floating gold shop…"
The sun began to dip below the horizon. The sky above the sea slowly turned red, like an unhealed wound. On deck, the atmosphere was calmer—for now. The crew began to re-arrange the rigging. Some sat bandaging small wounds, and Feran was re-checking the steel metal connections that now replaced the main mast.
Captain Dargo stood next to the helm, his face still annoyed but silent.
"This ship… wasn't designed to be clad in metal," he muttered, though his voice wasn't as loud as before.
"But if this mast collapses again, we can't sail, not even to retreat."
Altair stood beside him, gazing at the increasingly dark expanse of the sea.
"Thank you, Captain. If it weren't for this cooperation, we might have drowned."
The Captain only grunted softly.
"If this fails, I'll drown too—with you."
Lazric sat cross-legged on a chest, fanning a small fan towards the sails.
"But seriously, this mast is cool. It looks like a giant spear. Great for intimidating pirates."
"Pirates aren't an issue if what we're facing are sea corpses," Quartzis retorted.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
Feran sat leaning against the ship's railing, still quiet with sweat beading on his body. His hands toyed with the remains of fermented cassava wrapped neatly in banana leaves. He wasn't eating it… just staring at it as if weighing many things.
Altair approached, leaning beside him.
"Are you sure that was undead… not just magic?"
Feran answered without turning.
"The stench doesn't lie. Corpses don't lie, Altair."
Several Hours Later — Night
Night fell. The sea was calm. The dark sky was adorned with stars, as if soothing the storm that had just passed. Feran was sitting on the side of the ship, gazing at the sea with his arms crossed.
Altair sat leaning back, occasionally checking the newly installed steel mast. Lazric spun a small screwdriver in his hand, examining the cargo door hinges. Quartzis was reading a magic book, complaining softly.
"Why is it that every practical magic book is still so confusing…"
Then he glanced at Altair.
"By the way, you didn't mention something earlier…"
Altair raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You can turn gold into any weapon, but you can't… swim?"
Everyone immediately looked at Altair. Including Feran.
"…You can't swim?" Feran asked flatly.
Altair immediately grinned. "Uh… yeah. Not everyone is born with aquatic skills!"
Lazric laughed, imagining what happened when Feran jumped into the sea earlier.
"No wonder you could only watch from the ship when Feran was fighting the Kraken! I thought you were waiting for a heroic moment, turns out you were scared to jump in!"
"Scared not because of the water. But because of sinking." Altair nodded firmly, then added, "I'm gold, bro. If I jump in, I'm definitely going to sink. Physics, man!"
"So you're like… a living treasure?" Quartzis giggled.
Feran suddenly shrugged. "We'll just throw him into the sea, then wait to see which pirate gets him."
Everyone chuckled softly. Including Captain Dargo… though he tried to hide a smile behind his beard.
The night wind blew softly. In the sky, the stars seemed brighter than usual. As if the world was giving them a pause—before the next storm came.
And amidst the laughter, makeshift repairs, and a nearly cold glass of tea… the small ship continued to move forward. Towards something bigger. Something none of them were fully ready to face.
But that night, they weren't just survivors. They were family.
The Missing Head, The Pranked Body
In the main meeting room of Velmourn headquarters—a dimly lit room with magic crystal lights hanging from the ceiling—Nocturnus's head was placed on a round table. His head was neatly placed… on a small pillow embroidered with 'Temporary RIP'.
"Oh yeah, Spectralis," Nocturnus's voice sounded flat. "Put my body back on, will you? Whether you sew it, glue it, or magically reattach it… whatever. Just as long as I can walk."
Spectralis sighed, sitting relaxed while flipping through ancient magic notes.
"How does your head keep coming off… inconsistent undead," he grumbled, looking over lazily.
At the end of the table, Sylvia, Fulguran, and Spectralis now glared sharply at Veyron.
"Huh?! Why is everyone staring at me?" Veyron chuckled awkwardly, hands behind his head. "You caught me, huh… lol. Sorry, sorry, it was a reflex. His head was perfect for a slash."
Nocturnus stared at him—his eyes, now just green light, glowed faintly.
"If you had cut a little lower, I'd probably just be a chin right now."
"Aw, yeah… but wouldn't that be cool? Just a head screaming," Veyron replied, laughing to himself.
Meanwhile…
In the former battle room, Rex Ossium—the skeletal figure in armor, keeper of the dead, and master of boredom—was guarding Nocturnus's body, which was leaning against the wall like someone waiting in line for soup.
Rex glanced left and right… then opened a chest.
"Hmmm… if I take Nocturnus's leg bones, can he still walk?" he muttered, wiggling the corpse's shin.
"Or… maybe I should dress him up first. I have this furry cloak from war spoils, it'd suit him."
A few minutes later… Nocturnus's body stood wearing a glaring purple cloak and a birthday party hat. On its chest was written:
"HAPPY DEATHDAY"
Rex laughed contentedly.
"Wow, like an ambassador of death. Classy."
Back in the meeting room…
"Spectralis, hurry up. I can't take it, Rex keeps holding my body, my ribs are going to end up as cup holders!" Nocturnus's head shrieked in a panic.
Spectralis stood up lazily, carrying glue and magical tools.
"Relax, relax. But if the glue doesn't stick, blame Veyron."
"DON'T GLUE ME WITH GROCERY GLUE AGAIN!" Nocturnus's head shrieked in panic.
Fulguran finally just closed his eyes, sighing deeply. "This organization of ours… is increasingly resembling a circus."
And amidst dark plans, ancient secrets, and major world movements…
One head, one body, and a group of villains with their own traumas…
Still had to deal with glue, detached body parts, and a feeling of being unappreciated.
The chapter ends with Rex's voice:
"Hey Spectralis, I'm going to sew Nocturnus's body! But using the traditional Human Old Man outfit pattern!"
"REXXXXXX!!"