The battle had just begun.

The village gates groaned against the wind, and the air itself seemed to hum with menace. Star exchanged glances with Klara, Siegfried, and Friedrich—silent agreement flashing between them.

This fight would decide whether Frostholm survived the night.

Star exchanged glances with Klara, Siegfried, and Friedrich—and without a word, the four of them charged toward the gate.

What stood before them was no ordinary menace.

Towering beasts, grotesque and misshapen, resembling twisted livestock, loomed under the stormy sky. Their dark purple hides shimmered like shifting shadows under an eerie violet glow. Embedded in their chests were pulsing cores—unnatural orbs, beating like hearts, glowing with the same otherworldly hue.

“What are those things?!” Klara gasped, her eyes wide with horror. She had never seen anything like them.

And this was only the beginning.

“Is this… what King Nicolas called the ‘monsters of darkness’?” Siegfried whispered, tension coiled in his voice. His grip tightened on his sword, knuckles pale with resolve.

“Hah! These things are no match for the fire burning in my veins!” Friedrich declared boldly, lunging ahead. With a flourish, he drew the massive greatsword from his back, its edge igniting in brilliant flame as his Incidis power surged through it.

“Friedrich—wait!” Star cried out, trying to reach for him. But before she could move, a searing pain exploded in her head. A scream tore from her throat as she collapsed to her knees, clutching her skull as if it were being split apart.

Flashes—visions—struck her like lightning: jumbled images, twisted landscapes, unfamiliar yet hauntingly real. A force she couldn't control surged within her, unraveling the edges of her mind.

Klara, Siegfried, and Friedrich rushed to form a protective circle around her, weapons drawn, as dark silhouettes slithered closer—monsters, warped and seething with malevolence.

Star's body jerked, eyes wide and glowing faintly. Her voice, distant and otherworldly, slipped from her lips like a whisper from beyond:
“Abyss…”

Then her own voice returned, panicked but strong: “These creatures are tainted—corrupted by the Abyss! Don’t let them touch you—they’ll poison your soul!”

Forcing herself upright, Star gripped her new blade—a radiant four-pointed star forged of pure Light. Its glow pierced the murky air, shining like a beacon in the blackness. Her gaze blazed with unwavering resolve.

“Their cores!” she shouted, pointing at the center of the monsters’ chests. “The Abyss Cores—they look like pearls! Strike them down!”

The group sprang into action.

Siegfried surged forward, elemental Dew coursing down his blade. His movements were fluid and precise—like a river weaving through stone. He clashed with a towering shadowbeast, each graceful swing slicing through dark limbs. When a second beast lunged, fangs bared, Klara appeared behind him in a blur.

Storm crackled at her fingertips.

With perfect timing, she discharged a crackling surge of lightning that danced along Siegfried’s Dew-enchanted blade. The result: a devastating Shockwave erupted from the point of contact—liquid and lightning merging in a spiral of raw energy.
The monster convulsed violently, electricity illuminating its skeletal shape before its core exploded with a thunderous burst. It dissolved into ash.

But there was no time to rest. More came. Dozens.

Shadowspawn with eyes like coals closed in, howling with fractured voices.

Not far away, Friedrich let loose a guttural roar, his greatsword blazing. He cleaved a beast in half—but the creature's form warped, shadows coalescing around its fractured core. It began to regenerate.

“Tch—these things don’t go down easily!” Friedrich spat, frustration etched into his face.

Siegfried leapt to his side, coating his blade with Dew once more. “Let’s change the temperature.”

Together, they struck. Water met flame.

Vapor surged from the impact, a thick, scalding fog that clung to the battlefield. The monsters reeled, silhouettes flailing as the steamy haze invaded their forms, slowing their movements, sapping their strength. The hissing mist curled through the night like a dragon’s breath.

Still, the tide pressed forward.

Star stepped into the haze.

Her blade pulsed with Light, the very air shimmering around her. She raised it high and shouted, “Together—now!”

Friedrich flared his flames. Siegfried called forth a wave of Dew. Klara unleashed a bolt of Storm.

The three elements collided at the tip of Star’s sword.

In a blinding instant, they fused.

FLAREWAVE.

A crescendo of radiance erupted outward, a shockwave of heat and brilliance. The fusion of Light, Fire, and Water exploded like a newborn star, searing through the battlefield in a radiant arc. The monsters screamed, their forms disintegrating mid-charge. Cores cracked like glass. Ash and cinders swirled in the air as their bodies crumbled into nothingness.

When the light dimmed, silence fell.

Star stood at the center of the scorched earth, her blade lowered, chest rising and falling with exhaustion. Around her, her companions stood—bruised, bloodied, but triumphant.

And beyond them, darkness reclaimed the forest, empty of threats.

A moment passed. Then, a rustle—soft footsteps. From between huts and behind broken fences, the villagers emerged, trembling but alive. An older man in torn clothes staggered forward, his voice cracking with awe.

“They… they’re gone. The monsters are gone!”

Cheers erupted as the people gathered around the heroes, joy rising like the dawn. Star sheathed her sword with a weary smile as they were surrounded by grateful voices, tearful thanks, and the warmth of survival.

And then…

A newborn’s cry cut through the celebration.

Everyone turned.

A young woman, swaying with fatigue but glowing with relief, cradled a swaddled infant. The child, safe and warm in her arms, had been born amidst chaos, but now cried beneath a calm sky.

The villagers parted as she stepped forward and looked at Star with tearful gratitude.

“Thank you, Heroes of Valhalla… Forgive us—we couldn’t welcome you properly in such times.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Star replied gently. Then paused. “I… don’t know your name.”

The woman smiled, brushing back a lock of hair.

“Ah. Where are my manners? I’m Hilda Frostholm, heir to the founder of this village. Frostholm—named after my ancestor, who built it after the Blonde Hero defeated Nibelung and Nidhogg.”

Star’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s an honor, Lady Hilda. I’m Star Rosalind. These are my friends—Friedrich, Klara, and Siegfried.”

Friedrich leaned in, eyes bright. “Wait—your ancestor founded Frostholm? That’s incredible!”

Klara nudged him playfully. Hilda only chuckled.

“Yes, child,” she said fondly. “My forebear fought alongside the hero in the Great War. Though he never asked for help, they stood with him until the very end.”

Siegfried stepped forward with quiet respect. “Lady Hilda… we’ve come seeking your aid.”

She looked at him, curiosity blooming in her tired but clear eyes.
“What is it you need, young ones?”