The air turned deathly cold, biting through his fur.

Just as Haruki thought the situation could grow no worse, a chilling stillness settled over the summit, and he stood in shock, realizing he was dreadfully wrong.

"What do you mean we’re trapped?”

Haruki shouted, his voice cracking as he rounded on Ishito.

"Look at them!" Ishito replied, pointing at three of their fellow samurai.

One lay motionless; the others were broken and bleeding.

"They volunteered to go down the summit to call for help, but they were attacked aggressively by the snow apes.”

Ishito held Haruki’s shoulder.

”They tried to fight back, but the bigger, darker ones came and almost killed them. Luckily, Eiji’s team was following behind, and they were able to escape.”

“Barely…"

Ishito wondered into Haruki’s eyes, trying to see if Haruki truly understood.

"Larger ones?"

Haruki’s eyes widened.

They had barely survived the slender scouts. The thought of anything greater turned his blood to ice.

For the first time, he saw his companions not with the cold fire of rivalry, but with the sting of guilt.

"I... I have failed them."

His knees buckled, and he collapsed, catching himself only as Ishito’s hands clamped onto his shoulders.

"This isn’t your fault, Haruki. This is simply the trial.”

Ishito urged, helping him into a chair.

“Our only hope now is to work together and come up with a plan.”

Ishito carried Haruki back inside the tent.

…

None of them had lived through the last Phantasimal attack.

To them, the Phantasima and the phantom beasts were nothing more than ink upon a page, ghost stories from dusty scriptures and old men’s tales.

They were too young to remember the last time the shadows had risen, and so, they stood unaware that the nightmare of history was about to repeat itself.

For the first time in his life, a bitter, hollow feeling took root in Haruki’s chest.

He had always worn his pride and strength like armor.

Now, he felt only a sense of hopelessness.

…

Near the perimeter, a lookout at the top of a jagged boulder squinted into the tree line.

The leaves began to rustle, first one branch, then a dozen, then the entire grove swayed under the weight of an approaching tide.

"THE APES!"

He shrieked, his voice raw with terror.

"THE APES ARE HERE! THEY’RE COMING!"

The exhausted samurai scrambled, their movements panicked.

Haruki felt the familiar pull of despair, his mind spiraling into the dark abyss.

But then a voice, sharp and commanding, shattered the gloom.

”Everyone! This is not the time to be scared!”

Eiji took a deep breath.

”Those who are wounded stay inside the tents and tend to the unconscious! And those who can still stand and fight, let’s surround and protect our camp!”

Eiji stood amidst the chaos.

His resolve steadied the camp.

Outside, they all circled the broad summit.

“Everyone, stand your ground! Protect the wounded!“

Eiji drew his odachi.

”Nobody dies today!”

Eiji roared like the great Snow Tiger of legend.

The sound vibrated through the camp, igniting a spark in the hearts of the weary samurai.

Haruki, despite his years of resentment, felt the heavy veil of anxiety lift.

His fear did not vanish, but where it had been, Eiji had planted the seeds of hope and courage.

…

Fire and thick, choking miasma tore through the village as the horde of phantom beasts rampaged through the streets.

Hyosei carved his way through the monsters with sharp claws and heavy blows, his voice booming as he ordered his men to scatter and drive the villagers toward the sanctuary of the southern caves.

Asatsuyu leaped into the fray, his soulborn gear, a manifestation of manacore and bladeheart, flared to life.

With a roar, he unleashed a torrent of flame, his slashes cutting through the corrupted beasts as if exorcising them from the world.

Around him, the high-ranking samurai mirrored his intensity, their elements singing as they fought.

"This is no time to hold back, Hyosei!"

Asatsuyu shouted, cleaving a phantom beast in two.

"I only wait until the last of my people are beyond the reach of this blade," Hyosei replied.

Once the final villager had vanished into the safety of the red bamboo trees, Hyosei closed his eyes.

His consciousness slipped into the silent, pitch-black void of his own spirit.

"It’s been a long time, Yuki Onna."

He murmured.

Before him stood the spirit of ice, her form radiant and cold.

"Indeed, son of Tsutsumi. I must warn you, I can feel your soul fraying, even with my efforts to hold back the rot."

She gestured toward a dark, pulsing blob of miasmic slime trapped within a cage of frost.

Hyosei bowed his head.

"I offer my humblest apologies. You have sustained my life for so many years, but I cannot yet pass. Not until a new Blade General is worthy to receive your power."

He straightened.

"For now, I must borrow your strength again to shield my people."

Hyosei bent his knees and bowed down, touching the ground.

"As you wish, son of Tsutsumi."

The spirit dissolved into a glacial light that flooded Hyosei’s soul.

When he opened his eyes, they burned with the same ethereal glow. He exhaled, and the air around him instantly crystallized into frost.

He took a stance, and the Soulborn Relic in his waist turned into a blade: a long, elegant sword with a wine-colored hand-guard edged in gold.

The steel bore ripples like the waves surrounding Tsutsumi, glowing with a frost-blue light.

He gripped the hilt, the weight of the ancient vow settling into his bones. As he focused, the air shimmered, and the howling wind died into a terrified silence.

Hyosei swung the blade in a single, fluid motion.

A wave of absolute zero swept across the village.

The hoard of phantom beasts froze solid, statues of ice that shattered into glittering frost and vanished upon the wind.

"By the Edge of the Glacial Vow,"

Hyosei commanded, his voice cold and resolute,

"I shall rid this island of your corrupted existence and cast you back into the abyss."