— The Formation of the Coffin Nails —
At dawn, I was deep in discussion with Jasper and Victor about how to deploy the thirty-six Coffin Nails for the formation when Daniel burst into the room, breathless and wide-eyed.
"It's gone! The Prime Minister's mansion in the film city—it collapsed this morning. There's a huge crater in the training field now!"
"The Prime Minister's mansion? How?" Victor demanded.
"It's the building closest to the training field," I said quietly.
Daniel nodded frantically.
"He's free," I murmured.
During the reign of Harold II, the Prime Minister's office had plunged the kingdom into misery, corrupting governance and stoking bitter hatred among the frontline troops. If Aurelius Kael saw that symbol of oppression again, his rage would be boundless.
Victor turned to me, his expression grim. "Mr. Arcturus... tonight... it's all up to you."
I gave a slight nod. "I'll do what I must."
If this spread any further, Victor would lose everything.
Everything hinged on this single night.
After nightfall, I sent Victor away. The danger here was too great; he would only be a liability.
"Rhan, what now?" Jasper's eyes were on me.
"We set the formation."
Following the "Spirit-Locking Array" detailed in *The Meta Codex*, we positioned the thirty-six Coffin Nails one by one. To the south, we laid out a wide ring of white cloth, drenched in gasoline. By the time we finished, it was nearly ten.
"When the Spectral Legion appears, I'll draw them into the ring," I told Jasper, who was wiping sweat from his brow. "The moment they're all inside, you light the fire."
"Just light it? Nothing else?"
"That's all. If the fire takes hold, we've succeeded."
"Seems... too simple."
A sharp look from me silenced his doubt.
---
— Burning the Spectral Legion —
The night deepened, and the air grew thick and still.
"Rhan, something doesn't add up," Jasper whispered. "Aren't we here to talk to the Nightmare General? Won't burning his forces just enrage him?"
"Only by eliminating his legion first do we earn a chance to speak," I replied. "Otherwise, we'll be dead before we utter a word."
Just then, the familiar tap... tap... tap echoed through the darkness. I checked my phone: 11:30 PM. A full half-hour earlier than before.
"They're here," Jasper breathed. I raised a finger to my lips.
As before, the spectral commander ascended the drilling platform, brandished his spear, and rows of wooden soldiers began to rise from the earth, forming silent, orderly ranks.
"Rhan... they look different."
"How so?"
"They... they have eyes now."
My stomach tightened. I squinted, but the distance was too great to see clearly.
"I can feel them watching us," Jasper said, his voice tense. "Like how Bella stares at me. I know that feeling."
"Ghost Eyes... their eyes were truly open now," I said, lowering my voice. "With eyes, they become truly alive. Remember, they are the Spectral Legion—the army of the netherworld."
Jasper opened his mouth to ask more, but I stopped him with a raised hand. "Get ready. I'm going to draw them in. Light the fire the instant the last one crosses the line."
I stood and walked toward the legion.
Up close, I saw it clearly: emerald-green eyes, glowing faintly, were now set into their wooden faces.
"Hey!" I shouted, raising the Aeonwood Relic pendant. It pulsed with a soft, vitalizing light—the kind that attracts not only the living, but spirits as well. Every spectral soldier turned its eerie gaze toward me.
"Slay him!" the commander roared, thrusting his spear forward. The legion surged toward me like a dark tide—the plan was working. I had their attention.
I spun and sprinted for the cloth ring. They were fast. When I was still thirty meters out, I could almost feel the cold touch of their spear points at my back.
"Rhan! Run!" Jasper yelled.
I shut my eyes and pushed my body to its limit. Those few seconds felt like an eternity in hell.
I dove into the ring. They poured in after me.
"Now! Light it!" I screamed.
Jasper fumbled for a moment, then a lighter arced through the air.
WHOOSH.
The ring erupted into a wall of fire. I threw myself out, hitting the ground hard and skidding several meters before stopping. My palms, knees, and stomach burned with raw pain, but I ignored it, my eyes fixed on the ring.
The spectral soldiers were ablaze, thrashing and charging against an invisible barrier. Their wooden bodies were quickly consumed by the hungry flames.
"Rhan, are you okay?" Jasper ran over to help me up.
I checked myself—cuts and scrapes, bleeding in places, but nothing serious. "It worked," I gasped.
"You ran so fast back there... you could've broken an Olympic record," Jasper said, a shaky grin on his face.
---
— Arrival of the Nightmare General —
The ground shuddered violently.
"Rhan!" Jasper grabbed my arm. His stout frame kept him steady. "What's happening?"
"He's here."
I looked toward the fissure in the training field. The earth there was churning.
Another tremor, and then a flash of light erupted from the ground. With a deafening roar, a massive, jet-black figure clad in ancient armor burst forth from the soil.
The Nightmare General had arrived.
The moment he appeared, every nearby light flickered wildly and died.
The firelight cast his towering silhouette into sharp relief: dark plate armor, a massive battle-axe, and an aura of pure, chilling menace.
"Jasper, no matter what happens, don't make a sound," I whispered, my eyes locked on the general. A single word now, and he might crush us like insects.
The general's gaze swept over the dying flames and settled on us. I couldn't make out a face—perhaps there wasn't one. Only two deeply sunken, sorrowful eyes.
He let out a low growl. The sound carried a wave of frigid air that nearly snuffed out the fire and sent me stumbling back several steps. He shifted his weight, then began walking toward us.
Each step made the earth tremble. An overwhelming pressure—a mix of murderous intent and grave-cold yin energy—suffocated the air around us. This was a true general, forged in the carnage of countless battlefields.
"Who are you?" He stopped, his spectral eyes fixing on me.
Just meeting his gaze felt like a physical weight pressing down on me.
"General Aurelius Kael, I am an occultist," I said, steadying my breath. I was grateful he spoke first—had he simply swung his axe, I'd already be headless.
"An occultist? Then why have you slain my soldiers? Were you sent by those traitorous dogs to finish me?" Aurelius's voice was as cold as winter stone. Before the last word faded, he slammed the haft of his axe into the ground.
The earth shook with the impact.
I forced myself to stand straight under the crushing weight of his presence. "General, I ask you to see the truth. Those were not your soldiers. They were the Spectral Legion, placed here to imprison you."
Aurelius sneered. "Spectral or not, they swore allegiance to me. They were under my command. You have slain my men—"
He kicked the base of his axe, sending the great weapon spinning upward. Its blade caught the firelight, gleaming with a sinister gold-and-crimson hue.
"—and for that, you die."