They all couldn't hide their happiness. The mont their hands wrapped around the new weapons, the exhaustion and pain they carried seed to fade a little.
These armants didn't just look powerful, they radiated strength from another realm. Everyone felt it.
Lilian had once said that weapons born from magical planes were extrely rare. Seeing and gripping them now, they understood why.
The power Myles, Victor, and Nadine displayed using their weapons before had already proven how potent such armants could be. Owning the sa thing like them was a gift beyond anything they had imagined they would receive so soon.
George, Daniel, Ethan, Samantha, Ryan, Kade, and Clara no longer needed to rely on makeshift tools. They now carried true magical weapons that each have their hidden skills and unique abilities.
The undertaker watched them from behind his shadowed hood.
"Are you happy with your prize?" he asked, voice echoing lightly through the mist.
"Of course I'm happy!" Ethan blurted out before anyone else could speak.
He froze right after, realizing how rash he sounded. His lips pressed together as he glanced awkwardly at the others.
Sam and Clara shot him with sharp looks, both clearly unimpressed.
Myles stepped forward, his tone steady but cautious.
"We're grateful for this. But… is there sothing you want us to do again?"
Victor stood beside him, his expression thoughtful. He had the sa question in his mind.
"Oh, no," the undertaker said, his tone almost cheerful. "For now, I'm done with your group. I'll simply wait for the next one to arrive and I'll give them the sa opportunity and rewards."
Victor narrowed his eyes slightly. "You always reward anyone who cos here and kills your guardians?"
"Of course," the undertaker replied smoothly.
Victor turned to Myles, and for a mont they exchanged silent understanding.
The others noticed too. There was already another group that had already co through and received their own magical weapons, that ant they weren't the only ones growing stronger and more will co.
Still, they had one clear advantage, their numbers. Ten against four of the first group. At least that was clear for now.
Myles exhaled slowly, calming his thoughts. "Alright. I think it's ti we said our farewell, Undertaker."
"Oh, yes," the undertaker said with a soft chuckle. "But… are you sure?"
Myles frowned. "What do you an?"
"Are you sure you want to go back?" the undertaker asked, his tone teasing and almost playful. "Or would you rather move forward to face greater risks and claim greater rewards?"
The air grew tense. The promise of stronger rewards stirred sothing in each of them, but so did the fear of what "greater risks" might an.
No one spoke for a while. They all turned toward Myles, waiting for his decision.
Myles stayed silent, his brows deeply furrowed. Power was necessary. In this world, there was never enough of it.
But when he looked back and saw Nadine still lying injured, her body covered in wounds, the weight of choice hit him harder.
The sa fate could easily befall the rest of them, or even him.
After a long mont, he finally decided.
"We'll go back first," Myles said firmly, looking at his friends.
No one argued. For a few seconds, they only stared at him in silence.
Then, one by one, they nodded in agreent. They understood his reason that this ti, survival ca before ambition. Too greedy will get them killed.
After getting his friends' confirmation, Myles turned back toward the undertaker.
"We'll go back now," he said. "All of us."
The undertaker stood still, his tattered robes drifting faintly in the mist.
Myles could swear he saw sothing within those shadows—a glint, a faint motion that felt like eyes staring back at him.
They weren't shaped like real eyes, not even close, but Myles felt their focus all the sa. It was an uncanny sense of being seen, of being understood in ways words couldn't reach.
For a long mont, the undertaker said nothing. Then his voice echoed low and calm. "You are their leader, aren't you?"
Myles hesitated. "I guess you can say that."
"Good," the undertaker replied. "Then you must prepare yourself."
Myles frowned. "What do you an?"
A cold, uneasy feeling stirred in his chest, as if his instincts were warning him.
The undertaker chuckled softly, the sound rolling like wind through hollow bones.
"I can't tell you the specifics," he said. "Just know that it's in my nature to see certain things in my domain."
Before Myles could respond, the blue flas in the undertaker's lanterns flared violently, rising higher and brighter until the light drowned the mist.
"Wait—what do you an by that?!" Myles shouted, panic lacing his voice as he realized what was coming.
The blue fire surged outward, wrapping around him and the others in spirals of cold shimring light.
The flas climbed over their bodies, swallowing their shapes one by one.
Myles felt the fire sear through his senses, not burning but pulling his whole body he was like being dragged through a storm made of light and shadow.
The last thing he saw was the undertaker standing silently, the lanterns blazing brighter than ever. Then everything went dark.
The mist folded in on itself. The blue light faded.
And when silence returned, the undertaker slowly lowered his lanterns. The glow dimd back to its calm steady flicker.
He turned, his figure dissolving into the black fog as he whispered to no one, "Let's see how long your light lasts, leader."
Then, without a sound, the undertaker vanished back into the shadows.
—
Myles and the other nine of his companions erged again from the blue fires.
They were looking around and realized that right now they were back in the Soul Forge Altar room, where they were first ti killing the crowned monster.
They start to celebrate. But among them there was Myles, who furrowed his brows in deep concentration. He was still pondering over the ominous words from the undertaker.
—
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