Duncei clenched his fists. Death Mountain Range loomed ahead—a nest of unknown terrors. *If I want to survive and see Master Gorith again, I must master this power,* he told himself. WatanaOwen was right: *"Evil can be wielded for good."* Against the monsters in those peaks, the cursed blade wouldn't be a weapon of darkness—it'd be **"fighting fire with fire"**.
He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the leather sheath against his chest. The obsidian pommel of **Pluto's Blade** pulsed with glacial energy. Gripping the hilt, he channeled his **Vitalis Qi**—luminous white light enveloped the scabbard, clashing against the blade's seeping black miasma.
Even sheathed and shrouded, the sword dropped the temperature in the room. Duncei shuddered.
*This is madness.*
He carefully slid out the sheepskin scroll tucked beside the blade. As it unfurled, hypnotic sigils swirled before his eyes. Two ancient pupils glared from the parchment's center.
A voice echoed in his mind, sharpening with each second:
>*Pluto's Blade—first among cursed weapons. Forged in the Underworld, it wandered into mortal realms. I, Feng Yuan, stumbled upon it and deciphered its nine forbidden arts. Heed this: its corruption consumes the weak. The final three techniques? They transcend human limits. Wield them, and you risk becoming the blade's puppet—a demon king.*
>*Draw this blade only to claim a soul. Fail, and it claims yours. Remember: cloak yourself in life-force when unleashing its wrath. Master the forms, but never the essence.*
The voice vanished. Duncei's robes clung to his sweat-drenched skin. His Vitalis Qi had halved; his mind felt hollowed. Dawn bled through the window.
*Was it minutes? Hours?*
Nine phantom forms burned into his memory. The first technique—**Soul Shatter**—was deceptively simple: *"Pluto's flash rends heaven and earth."* A lunge, a stab to the foe's third eye.
Duncei mimicked the stance, whispering the incantation.
Instantly, glacial darkness surged through his veins. The blade shrieked in its sheath, demanding release.
*No! If it escapes…*
He slammed onto the bed, pouring every drop of Vitalis Qi into suppressing the weapon. White light flared against his chest. The blade stilled.
He gasped. Half his Qi—gone in seconds.
This power was a live grenade.
---
**Sunset Highway 87, Nevada**
The desert heat sweltered as Mystic Mystic Moon adjusted her white mage's cloak. "Duncei, move it!" she snapped. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. "You kept me up all night freezing. If this gig flops, your cut's forfeit."
Duncei bowed. "Understood, Miss."
"Hmph. Born to serve, weren't you?"
Her words struck like a knife. Fury simmered in Duncei's chest.
A tense silence fell.
Mystic Mystic Moon bit her lip. *Why did I say that?*
"Breakfast," she muttered coldly. "Then we ride."
At Reno's west gate, Moon Scar and Moon Princess Petal waited with two rugged figures. Their crew had shrunk from twelve to four.
"Where's the cavalry?" Mystic Mystic Moon raised an eyebrow.
Moon Scar grimaced. "Death Mountain's suicide. These two stayed—**Miles** and **Miao**. Orphans, no ties."
Miles towered like a linebacker, a broadsword strapped to his back. Miao—lanky, sly-eyed—leered at Mystic Mystic Moon. "Eighteen, single, and ready to ming—"
"Enough." Moon Scar cut him off. "We're passing through **Primar Tribe** and **Skyfolk territories**. Primars don't welcome outsiders. Skyfolk? Even messier."
Mystic Mystic Moon waved a dismissive hand. "Who cares? We need wheels. Walking's for peasants."
Moon Scar laughed. "A *limo*? We're mercs, not celebs. Next town, we grab bikes."
As they argued, Moon Princess Petal sidled up to Duncei. "So…**Duncei**," she purred, fingers tracing his robe's hem. "Why the giant sword? Overcompensating?"
Duncei flushed, stumbling back. "Archmage Geiger said—men and women shouldn't—"
Moon Princess Petal's laughter rang like wind chimes. "Oh, rookie. Let big sis teach you."
Mystic Mystic Moon's eyes narrowed to slits.
---
**Camp Redwood, California**
Mystic Moonlight bled through the pines as tents rose. Moon Scar hammered stakes. Miao whistled while gathering kindling.
Mystic Mystic Moon dragged Duncei aside. "Give them jerky? Seriously?" She shoved a beef strip into his hand. "They get hardtack. You? You guard me. *Eat.*"
Duncei frowned. "Shouldn't we trust them?"
"Trust? Moon Princess Petal's a snake. Stay away."
By the fire pit, Moon Scar cursed. "Wood's soaked. No flames tonight."
Mystic Mystic Moon rolled her eyes. "**Duncei.** *Spark.*"
Duncei raised a palm.
"*Flames of creation, heed my call—ignite!*"
Blue fire erupted, vaporizing dampness. The pyre roared.
Moon Princess Petal whistled. "Not bad, rookie." Her hip bumped his.
Duncei jerked away like he'd been shocked.
Mystic Mystic Moon watched, her knuckles white.
Later, in her tent, she tossed Duncei a jerky strip. "For you. Only you."
As he chewed, she added softly, "Call me Mystic Mystic Moon. Not 'Miss'."
"Why? I'm just—"
"*Just what?*" Her voice cracked. "Get out."
Alone, Mystic Mystic Moon hugged her knees. Outside, the Pluto's Blade pulsed against Duncei's chest—a ticking time bomb beneath the stars.