In a crystalline hall, veiled in the breath of frost and the echo of fate, Sajibro stood before the gathered leaders of the Shadows, the Frost Army, and the newly trained units of the Awakened. The map before him bore the marks of both the old and new worlds—but what would soon be inscribed would not be in ink, but in blood and fire.
Hana stepped forward with steady steps, her eyes gleaming with silent cunning.
"Hana, commander of Pure Deception…" Sajibro said in a sharp tone. "You'll lead your unit now toward the northern front of the Demon Kingdom. Make them see you as the entire Shadow Army—deceive, mislead, and burn their certainty. Let them believe we've launched the attack."
Hana nodded with a faint smile and replied with confidence:
"They'll chase the illusion until they burn in the truth."
Then Sajibro raised his hand and spoke louder, his voice piercing the icy hall:
"Ancient commanders… open the rift now."
Three of the oldest oath-bearers rose and began to trace circles in a tongue only those who had tasted eternity could pronounce. In the center of the hall, the void cracked open… and a rift appeared between dimensions. It was neither light nor shadow, but a temporal veil pulsing with unknown energy.
"The Shadow Army, the Frost Army, and the ancient commanders…" Sajibro continued.
"Enter this rift. We will not strike now, but with the second flare. Inside this place, time is still… and Zaramos's gaze cannot reach us."
The armies began their advance, led by Frostzar, the Ice Dragon, folding his wings silently as he crossed the gate. He was followed by Leon Azur, Ignos, Arthur, and all who bore the banners of the new alliance.
Only Sajibro remained in the hall.
He sat within a circle etched with ancient glyphs—more incantation than language. Before him lay a black metallic fragment, like the heart of a weapon severed from its time.
"The Second Millennium Weapon…" he whispered to himself.
"This seal… it cannot be broken by strength. Only by understanding."
He began to meditate. With every passing second, he saw a new shadow forming. A sword? A mask? A soul? Nothing was clear—but something within whispered:
"When this seal is broken… history will be rewritten forever."
In another world, far from ordinary time, Jinro's eyes watched what should never be seen.
From atop a tower in the Demon Kingdom, Zaramos stood before the Seven.
Before each of them, a blazing portal shimmered in a unique hue, as if each belonged to a different age. Their bodies defied form, and their souls bled omens.
Zaramos spoke, his voice splitting stone:
"O Seven Commanders… the time for return has come. The world has rested long enough."
One of them laughed, a distorted sound, and said:
"We seek only those who fight… not those who hide."
And from within the gloom, Jinro whispered:
"They… they're not an army.
They're an ending—written in seven different shapes."
In a sudden moment, Sajibro's eyes trembled mid-meditation, as a blurry vision of the sealed weapon appeared before him.
But it wasn't a sword…
It was a will—shaped like a shadow,
Capable of carving time itself.
End of Chapter Thirty-Eight