Ava lay motionless, trapped in a twilight state between life and death. The black mist continued its relentless feast, siphoning away her strength, and leaving her body cold and unresponsive. Each labored breath was quieter than the last, her complexion fading to a pallid hue. The hush inside that isolated library chamber was absolute—no sounds of battle reached through the thick walls. Only the faint rustle of pages and the watchful eyes embedded in black hands accompanied the grim process.
Outside, however, the world was far from silent. Noah and the others fought desperately against an unending tide of monstrous maid warriors and black knights. The corridor rang with the clang of steel, the crackle of magic, and the anguished cries of newly formed abominations shattering back into puddles of black mist. Noah’s resolve flared hotter than ever, his heart screaming for Ava even as his voice strained with each shout.
“Damn it, Ava!” he roared, cutting down yet another skeletal maid. Her wig fluttered to the floor as her core splintered. “Please—hold on!”
His fury and desperation strengthened him, driving him onward, closer to the door that separated him from Ava. Each enemy he vanquished brought him one small step closer to the room, where the person he cherished lay in mortal peril.
Within the library, Celeste stood over Ava’s limp form, savoring the moment. She had diverted all her forces to halt Noah’s rescue attempt, ensuring they would not interrupt her grim business. Her cyan hair shimmered with star-like glimmers as she surveyed her victim, the starlit threads reflecting in the lifeless eyes of the black hands lining the walls.
“Madam Medusa will be so pleased,” Celeste said softly, a smug grin curving her lips. She ran a finger along Ava’s cheek, mockingly gentle. “I’ve managed to kill one of the intruders, after all.”
Lifting Ava’s body effortlessly, Celeste carried her over to a sturdy desk near the center of the room—a desk previously adorned with books and grimoires. She placed Ava down as if laying out a precious specimen, smiling at her handiwork. The overhead lanterns cast shadows across the table’s surface, making the scene feel like a twisted vignette in a dark museum.
“Now,” Celeste mused quietly, “which one of them should I choose next? They must be tiring, fighting all those minions. Soon, they’ll be ripe for the picking.” She licked her lips thoughtfully, the cat-like gleam in her eyes betraying her predatory delight.
But then, a flicker of movement caught her eye. Ava’s finger twitched—just once, subtle as a whisper. A flash of shock crossed Celeste’s face, followed by a brief laugh of disbelief.
“No, no, that must’ve been my imagination,” she murmured, tightening her grip on the table’s edge. “The odds of her being a king’s candidate are essentially nonexistent. Surely not.”
Yet the silence pressed on, and in that stillness, the finger moved again. This time, Celeste’s heart skipped a beat. She leaned in, her yellow-framed glasses catching the lamplight, her breath hitching.
“Impossible! What is this bullshit luck?” Celeste hissed, a tremor of panic lacing her words. Ava’s body began to shudder, her muscles convulsing as if awakening from a horrific nightmare. A ripple of energy coursed through her, dispelling some of the black mist’s hold and restoring a faint glow to her features.
Celeste’s confidence wavered, cracks forming in her calm veneer. Acting swiftly, she raised her hand, summoning a surge of her ability. In an instant, the table beneath Ava collapsed under invisible pressure, buckling as if made of brittle clay. Splinters flew as the wood gave way to the crushing force of Celeste’s ability.
“Die! Die! Be smashed into a puddle!” Celeste shrieked, her usually calm demeanor cracking under fury. Her starlit hair shimmered with concentrated energy, and the gravitational force around Ava intensified brutally. The air crackled as unseen pressure built, pressing Ava down as if the entire castle lay upon her shoulders.
For a heartbeat, it looked as though Celeste’s triumphant roar would be the last sound Ava ever heard. But in that final, desperate moment, Ava’s eyes flashed, and suddenly Celeste froze. Her limbs locked in place, her muscles refusing to obey her will. Gasping in shock, Celeste felt her ability flicker and fail. The crushing weight vanished, leaving Ava free.
Ava stood up, staggering slightly as if awakened from a trance. The sclera of her eyes had turned pitch-black, a stark contrast to her usual gentle gaze. Black vines of energy snaked along her arms, twisting like living ink beneath her skin. A similar vine-like marking encircled her neck, and her face held a distant, glazed expression, as if her consciousness drifted somewhere beyond the confines of this grim library.
Celeste’s heart hammered as she struggled against Ava’s mysterious hold, snarling in frustration. “Damn… damn it! Duvet, help!” She called to her cat, a desperate edge to her voice.
Duvet, the once-dainty cat that Celeste petted earlier, now rushed forward, transformed and enormous. Its sleek black fur bristled as it lunged at Ava, fangs bared. Yet Ava, despite her trance-like state, slipped aside with surprising grace, leaving the monstrous cat swiping at empty air.
With her cat’s intervention, Celeste found herself freed from Ava’s paralysis. She inhaled sharply, relief mingling with fury. “How—how are you still alive?” she demanded, eyes narrowing behind her yellow glasses, her mind racing to understand this turn of events. “How can you still move?”
Ava’s expression remained distant, but her lips curled into a faint, eerie smile. “I wonder,” she said softly, her voice oddly detached. “I guess I’m just lucky.”
Celeste’s indignation flared. She refused to believe such a simple excuse. “Lucky?” she spat. “There’s no way I’m losing to a newbie king’s candidate. You probably don’t even know how to use any proper class abilities yet!” Frustration and resolve mingled in her words.
Drawing on the black mist in the chamber, Celeste conjured a new armor of midnight hue that encased her legs beneath the robe. Her arms sprouted black gauntlets, their edges gleaming wickedly. A black metal headband appeared around her forehead, and behind her, numerous black hands emerged, each clenching a different weapon—axes, swords, and spears—like a deadly crown of limbs. It was a grotesque fusion of classes: the armored presence of a Dark Knight interwoven with the controllable minions of a Monarch. Each hand was a summoned soldier of black mist, impossible to destroy without shattering its hidden core.
Celeste breathed slowly, centering herself. Her body felt lighter now—she was in control. With a subtle shift in her gravitational ability, she adjusted her own weight, making herself nearly weightless. Weapon-laden hands hovered around her like a phalanx of deadly satellites, all aimed at Ava.
“Don’t think you’ve won anything yet,” Celeste said, voice icy and composed once more. The faint, star-like glimmers in her cyan hair flared, reflecting her renewed determination. “I’ll show you what it means to face someone who understands their power completely.”
Ava stood quiet, the black vines on her arms pulsing with each heartbeat. Beyond the library’s high shelves, the distant sounds of the party’s struggle against Celeste’s minions echoed faintly. Inside this shadowy heart of knowledge and brutality, two awakened forces now prepared to clash, their destinies twisting like the dark roots creeping along the library floor.
Duvet, the cat-like creature, rushed to Celeste’s side, its massive form rippling with black mist. Without hesitation, Celeste plunged her hand into the cat’s jaws, her fingers closing around a solid, dark sphere hidden in its throat. The cat’s body trembled and shimmered, its form collapsing into roiling shadows as Celeste withdrew its core—an orb of concentrated black mist.
For an instant, the cat’s shape destabilized, a swirling, restless darkness. Then, with a subtle flex of Celeste’s will, that darkness contorted and fused itself around the core, reshaping into a large, living blade. The weapon twitched in her hand, its surface undulating like a blade forged from liquid midnight. Even in the dim library light, it gleamed with lethal promise.
“Let’s play, newbie,” Celeste purred, her voice dripping with scorn. Her eyes burned with hatred, all traces of languid amusement gone. The starlit cyan strands of her hair seemed to blaze with new intensity, reflecting the wrath simmering beneath her calm exterior.
Ava stood across the room, arms still marked by ink-black vines, her sclera a deep, uncanny black. She tried to channel the scant black mist within her blood—hardly more than a trickle, since she’d only just awakened this monstrous power. With trembling concentration, she formed two daggers of black mist, their edges hazy and unstable. She was painfully aware that a king’s candidate depended on blood consumption to fuel their strength. Without that resource, her abilities were stunted, half-formed illusions of what they could be.
Her paralysis power, too, was limited. She could freeze foes she touched easily enough, but imposing her will from a distance required tremendous mana, mana she simply didn’t have right now. At best, she could infuse her ability into weapons or martial arts techniques to extend her range slightly, but her options were slim. Every strategic angle she considered ended in a disadvantage.
And then there was Robin Hood’s invisibility, a subtle advantage under normal circumstances. But here, dozens of black hands were hidden among the shelves and rafters, each palm bearing a vigilant eye. Even the faintest footstep would draw their notice. Invisible or not, Ava would be detected the moment she moved—her every motion reported to Celeste.
She clenched her jaw, acknowledging the grim truth: despite her newfound powers, she was still at a profound disadvantage. Celeste held all the cards—raw experience, a monstrous arsenal of black mist constructs, and a room rigged with watchful sentinels. Ava’s abilities, fledgling and half-formed, paled in comparison.
Yet, she refused to surrender to despair. The library was silent but for the soft crackle of distant lanterns and the relentless slither of countless black hands. Ava swallowed hard, summoning what courage she had left. If she was going to survive, she would have to outthink Celeste, exploit any weakness, and rely on the slimmest margins of luck.
Celeste watched her, smiling as if savoring the tension. “Go on,” that smile seemed to say. “Make a move.”
Celeste allowed herself a small smile, her cyan hair flickering with star-like sparks as she manipulated gravity with frightening ease. She had just displayed the potency of Collapse, her ability that could multiply a target’s weight to unbearable levels. Now, by inverting her mana through a warlock’s curse, she’d rendered herself nearly weightless, granting her unusual speed and agility. Among Medusa’s elite, Celeste stood as a formidable force with proficiency in all three king’s candidate classes—Dark Knight, Warlock, and Monarch—making her a fearsome opponent for Ava’s nascent abilities.
“Let me explain something,” Celeste said, voice dripping with a condescending kindness. She raised her living sword, formed from her cat Duvet’s core, and pointed it at Ava. “When a king’s candidate truly wants to kill another, they devour all the black mist in their enemy’s body.” Her tongue grazed her lips in a predatory gesture before she lunged forward, weapons spinning in a wicked flourish.
Ava jerked aside just in time, dodging the flurry of blades that slashed at the air where she’d been standing a heartbeat before. Her heart pounded. Every second counted. She met Celeste’s gaze, forcing a grin that belied her trembling limbs. “You really shouldn’t have told me that,” Ava said, voice taut with determination.
Before Celeste could react, Ava’s sclera-dark eyes narrowed with focus. She poured a burst of mana, painful and draining though it was, into her ability. For a mere second, Ava’s paralyzing power extended beyond her usual range. The effect was fleeting but enough to freeze Celeste mid-attack, limbs locking, hair shimmering to a halt.
Ava dashed forward, pushing through the agony in her muscles. She swung her weapon, aiming not at Celeste’s core or major limbs, but at one of the black mist hands orbiting around her foe. With a precise slash, she severed a single finger from the hand’s grip. The finger plummeted toward the floor, still dripping with black mist. Without hesitation, and with a grimace of distaste, Ava reached down and consumed it, swallowing the condensed black mist within.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.
The effect was immediate and electrifying. Ava’s battered body hummed with renewed energy, the black veins on her arms darkening as she absorbed the stolen essence. The finger’s loss was trivial to Celeste’s forces, and it regenerated almost instantly, but the damage was done, Ava had grown stronger.
Celeste’s eyes widened in fury as she recovered from her brief paralysis. “You impudent whelp!” she hissed, the star-like glimmers in her hair intensifying as she prepared to strike again. Now both women understood the grim stakes of their duel: the devouring of black mist had transformed a contest of strength into a battle over vital resources.
Meanwhile, outside the sealed room, Noah and the rest of the party had finally dispatched the last of the endless waves of minions, leaving heaps of dissolving black mist where enemies once stood. But as they drew nearer to the door that imprisoned Ava, a new challenger appeared with cruel timing.
A sudden projectile whistled through the corridor—a spiked ball of black mist and metal, hurtling toward Noah. His instincts screamed, and he dived aside just as the orb expanded like a blooming iron flower of spikes. It skewered the air where he’d been moments before, landing heavily in front of the door. The spikes settled into a lethal barricade as the black mist within the orb bled out, spreading over the doorway and forming a spiked, macabre obstruction.
Noah rose from his crouch, eyes blazing with hatred as he turned to face the newcomer. This man’s short cyan hair had the same star-like sheen as Celeste’s, reflecting the lantern light in tiny constellations. His eyes were a vivid crimson, and he wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo with dual holsters at his sides. A tall top hat perched atop his head, twitching ever so slightly, as if alive with its own eerie magic.
“I don’t have time for this,” Noah growled, fury rolling off him in waves. “Get out of my way, or I swear I’ll kill you.”
The newcomer, Evander, smirked. His crimson eyes flashed, relishing the challenge. “Try me, brat,” he said, voice low and menacing.
“I’m handling this,” Noah said, voice low and steady, his knuckles whitening around his sword’s hilt. “Everyone, save your strength.” The lingering echoes of monsters and shattered armor filled the corridor. Before them stood an obstruction of living metal and malevolent intent—created by Evander’s warped projectile—yet Noah stepped forward alone, body tensed, heart aflame. Inside that chamber, Ava needed him, and he would break through if he had to tear the castle itself apart.
Meanwhile, within the enclosed library, the atmosphere was suffocating. Ava gasped, her lungs straining against stale, dust-laden air that tasted of ink and sorrow. She faced Celeste, a seasoned foe who wielded gravity like a sculptor’s chisel. Every second that passed, Celeste tried to crush her under oppressive weight or tear her asunder with dark magic and shifting mist-crafted weapons.
Ava’s strategy had emerged from desperation. She learned that devouring Celeste’s black mist granted her renewed strength. With each successful paralysis and quick slash—each stolen fragment of Celeste’s body—Ava’s power grew. It was a grisly method, but survival required brutality now. The room’s macabre decor of books, staring hands, and alien starlight in Celeste’s hair served as a grim audience to their struggle.
Celeste snarled, twisting her fingers in intricate patterns. “Ability: Collapse,” she hissed anew. The gravity around Ava intensified, pressing her downward. Yet, this time, Celeste invoked a warlock’s curse, inverting mana to send Ava violently skyward. Ava slammed into the high ceiling, her spine jarring at the impact. With a pained grunt, she found her footing—if it could be called that—on the ceiling’s beams, defying conventional orientation.
In a flash, Celeste rushed upward, a blur of cyan and star-like motes. If Ava used her long-range paralysis now, she risked plummeting onto the ground below. She hesitated, searching for a window of opportunity. Celeste’s blade, once a cat named Duvet, now mutated into a ravenous mouth of black mist, snapping and snarling.
Ava gritted her teeth, reshaping her fingers into vine-like spears of black mist. Her sclera was dark, her veins coursing with stolen power. She dodged Celeste’s lunges, weaving between shelves and floating ladders. With each successful strike, she plucked away pieces of Celeste’s body—bits of flesh and mist that she devoured immediately, grimacing but determined. Celeste screamed in fury, trying to maintain form as she sprouted new limbs and weapons from the endless black mist at her disposal.
“I refuse to lose to you, brat!” Celeste shrieked, voice echoing off the cramped shelves. Her living sword’s mouth opened wide, biting deep into Ava’s arm.The black mist of both users intermingled, and Ava cried out, half in pain, half in mocking laughter. Before Celeste could relish her advantage, Ava poured mana into her paralysis ability, channeling it through the sword itself. Celeste’s eyes widened as her limbs locked once more, surprised by Ava’s cunning.
They began to fall, gravity reasserting its cruel dominion as Celeste’s ability faltered. Hurtling downward, Ava grimaced, making a snap decision. She tore free from the blade’s jaws by ripping off her own arm—an agonizing but calculated move. In mid-air, she flung the severed limb downward. Black mist swirled around the disembodied arm, morphing it into a monstrous spear that embedded itself in the floor below.
As both combatants descended, Ava twisted her body, using her legs and remaining arm to steer Celeste’s helpless form onto the spear’s waiting tip. The impact was brutal and brilliant, a sickening crunch as the spear impaled them both. Ava, however, crafted the weapon from her own flesh and mist, granting her unnatural control. She easily disengaged from the spike, leaving Celeste skewered. Black vines erupted from the spear, coiling around Celeste’s torso and limbs, sprouting ghostly black flowers that bloomed with malicious grace. The flowers sapped Celeste’s remaining energy, devouring her from the inside out.
Celeste’s screams faded into a pitiful rasp as her body dissolved into black mist fragments, drawn into Ava’s spear and claimed by Ava’s growing power. Ava staggered back, clutching her wounded shoulder, her mind foggy with pain and new strength. She had won.
Outside the sealed room, Noah confronted Evander in a hallway strewn with the remnants of prior battles. The air smelled of burnt fabric and iron, and the distant cries of felled monsters echoed through the castle. Lantern light wavered on the old stones, casting flickering silhouettes as these two forces squared off.
Evander, with cyan hair shimmering like a starry night’s reflection and crimson eyes blazing with fervor, stood poised with a calm malice. He gripped two strange firearms—twin holsters at his hips—and each time he fired, the bullets crackled with black mist. Every shot was more than a projectile; it held a twisted core of living darkness, ready to morph into chaotic shapes.
Noah’s draconic instincts kicked into high gear. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the prickle of energy running through his veins, and the primal heat in his chest. Each spiked ball Evander shot hurtled toward him at unnatural angles. But Noah’s sword arm moved with a fluid precision born of rage and desperation. Before the bullets could expand into deadly traps, he slashed them apart mid-flight. His blade sparked with each collision, sending tiny shards of black mist scattering harmlessly to the floor.
Inside each shattered projectile, he glimpsed a core—slippery and dark, the heart of a monarch’s creation. This realization confirmed Evander’s nature as a monarch-type black mist user, able to shape and reshape his bullets into monstrous forms.
“I refuse to let you harm my lady,” Evander snarled, voice cracking with fanatical devotion. “Without her…without her, we’d be nothing.” He fired again, and this time the bullets contorted midair. They twisted into fists that slammed at Noah’s guard, became gnashing mouths that snapped hungrily at his wrists, and formed chains that tried to entangle his legs. The corridor became a bizarre menagerie of ephemeral monstrosities, all born from Evander’s will.
Cyrus, standing guard alongside the rest of their allies, watched Noah struggle through the barrage. “Noah, are you sure you don’t want backup? This is dangerous!” he called out, concern bleeding into his normally calm tone.
Noah tightened his grip, refusing to yield. He would not call for help, not now, not when Ava’s life hung in the balance behind that barricaded door. “I’m fine,” he shouted back, voice firm, cutting through the chaos. He dodged another snapping maw, then sliced upward, cleaving a claw-like bullet in two. He had no time to spare for cautious tactics—he had to break through, had to rescue Ava.
Evander smirked, assessing Noah’s desperate heroism. “Ability activate: Pendulum,” he whispered, low and threatening. A surge of mana rolled out like a silent wave, enveloping Noah. Instantly, Noah’s movements slowed, as if wading through thick syrup. His sword, once quicksilver in his hands, felt ponderous and heavy. The hallway, once clear in its dangers, now seemed an endless gauntlet of impossibly fast attacks.
Evander rushed forward with blinding speed, his fists a flurry of motion. With each punch, Noah felt his body bruise. He tried to raise his sword in defense, but the weight of the Pendulum ability pinned his limbs down, turning him into easy prey. Sparks flew as Evander’s blows rained down, sending Noah skidding backward, body scraping against the stone floor.
“Noah!” Cyrus called out, panic edging into his voice. Cyrus lunged forward, determined to intervene, but Evander anticipated this. He activated his ability on Cyrus has he fired another shot, another bullet flung from his gun and expanded into a spiked wall of black mist, blocking Cyrus’s path. The prickling aura of the spikes forced him to halt. The monarch’s cunning turned the battlefield into Evander’s own playground.
Yet Evander’s ability had a critical flaw. He could only siphon speed from one foe at a time. When Cyrus was forced back, Adam took his turn. Without a moment’s hesitation, Adam broke into a sprint, making it past before the wall had formed, with that, Evander’s attention was divided.
No longer pinned by Pendulum’s effect, Noah felt his speed rush back into his limbs like fresh adrenaline. His eyes flared with renewed anger. This time, as Evander turned—just slightly—to track Adam’s approach, Noah saw his chance. He swung his sword in a savage, upward arc, striking Evander across the torso. Black blood splattered, each droplet sizzling as it hit the ground.
“Damn you! I won’t let you harm her!” Evander roared, voice trembling with rage and desperation. As he stood opposing Noah and Adam, memories surged through his mind like a rushing tide. He recalled the day Medusa found him and Celeste—barely alive, starving, riddled with disease. They had been nothing more than walking corpses until Medusa’s mercy and kindness had saved them. From that day forward, their lives belonged to her, and Evander would not let anyone threaten the woman who had given them everything.
Gritting his teeth, Evander reached up and snatched his top hat, a bizarre accessory that concealed deadly secrets. He drew out its core—a pulsating black orb—and retreated a few steps. In the blink of an eye, that core warped, reshaping into a monstrous gatling gun forged of living black mist. Its barrel gleamed ominously in the flickering light, dripping with inky residue. With a guttural cry, Evander unleashed a hail of bullets, each round twisting into new horrors—barbed chains, snapping jaws, spiked spheres.
Noah’s eyes narrowed, igniting with draconic fury. He let his sword fall aside, no longer necessary. Scales erupted across his body once more, and as he took a step forward, his hands transformed into formidable claws. He charged into the barrage, swatting aside each bullet as though batting away leaves in a storm. Sparks and droplets of black mist burst around him, his roar muffled by the relentless chatter of Evander’s living firearm.
Alarmed by Noah’s unstoppable advance, Evander tried to invoke Pendulum again, intending to slow Noah’s movements. But a blur of motion from the side caught his attention—Adam, hurling Cú Chulainn with terrifying precision. Evander snarled, forced to focus the Pendulum effect on Adam to rob him of speed, stalling the spear’s deadly arcs. But this choice cost him precious moments.
Before Evander could re-aim, Noah was upon him. The hero’s scaled claws clamped around Evander’s neck like a vise, lifting him effortlessly off his feet. Evander’s eyes widened in terror. He tried to summon more bullets, more tricks, but Noah’s gaze—burning with draconic light—told him it was too late.
Noah closed his eyes, concentrating. His ability flared, draining the black mist directly from Evander’s body. Evander gasped, feeling his powers unravel, the mist siphoned away. The black veins across Noah’s own body deepened, absorbing Evander’s strength. In seconds, Evander’s monarch powers vanished, leaving him an ordinary human once more. Without the life-sustaining mist, his frail mortal shell failed him. His struggles ceased, and he died there, his body slumping lifelessly to the floor.
Noah released Evander, not sparing a glance for the man who had so arrogantly blocked his path. He bolted down the corridor, past the debris and fading enemies, until he reached the library’s threshold. The door, once barricaded, was now battered open by their combined efforts.
Inside, the air smelled of old paper and spilled ink, tinged with the metallic tang of blood and bitter black mist. Ava sat propped against a battered bookshelf, her clothes torn, her arm missing at the elbow. Yet her eyes met Noah’s with relief and a weary, triumphant smile. Nearby, Celeste’s remains had dissolved into puddles of black ink and scattered fragments of mist.
“Ava!” Noah cried, his voice cracking with emotion as he rushed to her side. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. His draconic transformation faded, the scales receding into smooth flesh as he held her close.
Ava managed a soft chuckle, her breath hitching. “Don’t worry,” she said quietly. “I can regenerate this arm easily.” She demonstrated by reaching toward the black spear formed from her body, absorbing it back into herself. Bone and muscle began to weave anew, flesh stitching together until her arm was whole once more. The process left her pale and trembling, but functional.
“I was so worried,” Noah murmured, his forehead against hers, voice still thick with concern. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”
Ava shook her head slowly, smiling despite the exhaustion etched into her features. “It’s fine,” she reassured him, hugging him gently in return. “Normally, I’d enjoy this attention more, but we still have a mission to complete, don’t we?” Her tone was light, trying to ease his guilt.
Noah managed a small, relieved laugh, face warming slightly as he realized their dangerous surroundings. “Yeah,” he agreed softly, “you’re probably right.”
As they separated, Ava caught his gaze and, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, leaned in to kiss him. It was brief, delicate—an instant of tenderness stolen in the heart of chaos. Then Ava stood, brushing dust from her clothes, and gave him a confident smirk that belied her injuries.
Noah blinked, momentarily stunned and blushing softly. But he caught the determination in her eyes, mirroring it in his own. Hand in hand, or side by side, they would continue, pushing deeper into Medusa’s domain. A united front, even in the wake of near tragedy.
Behind them, the remnants of Celeste and Evander’s ambush faded into silent echoes. The castle still loomed with untold horrors, yet the bond forged by blood, fear, and courage had only grown stronger.