Streng's grin was already there before his feet even reached the bodies. That sharp, crescent-moon slash of teeth gleamed against the corpse-light, too wide to be human, too eager to be sane. He crouched low beside one of the armored dead, his clawed fingers running down the torn chest plate like a butcher sizing up a slab.
"Mmm," he rumbled, tapping the exposed ribcage. "Still good meat."
Nero's voice cut through the silence. "What the hell are you doing?"
Streng didn't even look up. "Assessing my options."
Terra stepped forward, arms crossed tightly over herself to hide her naked body. "Show some decency, monster."
Streng turned toward them, grin widening. "Relax. I'm not planning on gnawing through these guys. Yet." He gestured lazily at the corpses. "Besides… might as well put this armor to use. Nero. Cain. You."
Cain blinked, recoiling. "Me?"
"I don't care about your modesty or your dignity," Streng said, rising to his full height, eyes flicking over them with hunger and disdain. "But if I have to keep looking at your bare, shivering skin for one more cursed mile, I will eat one of you. And don't test me." He licked one fang, slow and deliberate. "You'd cook nicely over a rotfire."
Nero and Terra, without missing a beat, barked in perfect sync:
"That's not fucking happening."
Streng snarled, lips curling with menace and joy. "Heh… I love a challenge."
He reached down and ripped the clothes off two of the bodies, tearing the armor free like meat from bone. Without warning, he hurled them—one at Terra, tossed neatly into her arms.
But then, he launched the remaining sets with brutal force toward Nero and Cain.
The armor slammed into them mid-chest. Nero and Cain were flung backwards, skidding across the snow-slicked ground, groaning.
They landed shoulder to shoulder, holding their sets of gear, chests heaving.
Cain glanced sideways. "Why the hell you looking at me?"
Nero shot back, "I'm not, you freak, you looked first. I'll end you.."
Cain rolled away, covering himself dramatically. "Disgusting."
"Don't flatter yourself," Nero barked. "I don't like men."
"Me either."
Terra couldn't help herself—she cackled. "You two really know how to make nudity awkward."
They groaned in unison.
Off to the side, Artemis watched with folded arms and a small nod. "This was a good idea. Keeps the body warm. Keeps the mind distracted."
They split up to change—Nero, Cain, and Terra all finding their own separate corners of the woods to avoid any more accidental glances.
In the meantime, Streng remained near the pile of bodies, squatting beside Artemis like a massive, predatory gargoyle. He was still grinning, still hungry, but now his curiosity gnawed louder than his appetite.
"So," he rumbled. "What are you made of, anyway? Clockwork? Bone? Something weird?"
Artemis tilted her head calmly, red eyes flicking over to him. "Alchemy-infused alloys. My frame is reinforced with obsidian-laced aurite, which bonds well with necro-lightning conduits."
"Mmhm." Streng grinned deeper. "Nerd stuff."
"My tissue mesh is powered by an artificial soul-bond core. It generates energy feedback loops that allow for independent movement and adaptive processing."
He blinked at her. "So you're like a thinking golem or something? A sentient piece of metal?"
"Correct. But a piece of metal sounds really rude."
"Apologizes, robot girl. And you chose to stay with us instead of disintegrating into the snow? You could've bolted, ya know."
"I am drawn to anomalies. You all… qualify. Plus..I have no choice in the matter."
Back with the others, Nero emerged first—black leather armor now snugly fit to his frame, long black cloak fluttering behind him in the wind. The gloves creaked as he flexed his fingers. He looked almost knightly, if still dangerously scrappy. His boots crunched in the black snow as he turned a corner—
—and bumped right into Terra, who had just finished adjusting her own armor.
"Oh—shit, sorry," Nero muttered, backing off.
Terra blinked at him, then laughed. "You put that on wrong."
"No I didn't," he said too quickly, tugging at the chest strap.
She stepped forward, rolling her eyes. "Your clasp's backwards, and your collar's uneven—hold still."
"I had it under control," he growled, cheeks warming.
She adjusted the leather folds with practiced ease, tightening a strap. "Sure you did."
He grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath and followed after Terra finished.
Soon, the party was assembled again, all armored in matching black: long leather coats over layered plate, black cloaks sweeping behind them like shadows come to life. Their boots left prints in the frost, and their breath steamed in the cursed air.
Streng finally donned a massive dark coat he ripped off a body, though he left it open to show off his scars and fur. Artemis, gleaming gold against the black, simply nodded at the cohesion.
Without a word more, they continued forward—deeper into the woods, under the weight of black snow and darker things yet to come.
The forest stretched endlessly, drowning in black snow and ancient rot. The group walked on in silence, cloaked in dark leather and tension. The crunch of boots over frost was the only sound for a long while—until Nero, quiet and scowling, finally spoke.
"Wonder who those bodies belonged to," he muttered, tugging at the edge of his new cloak. "All wearing the same gear… like some kind of unit."
Terra, walking beside him, tilted her head. "You know a thing or two about squad stuff?"
"Yeah," Nero replied flatly. "Was one of the Slayers. Back in my world."
Streng raised an eyebrow from behind them. "Slayers?"
"We hunted Terrorists," Nero clarified. "We used guns, swords, magic. Whatever worked. We were the frontline freaks they sent into suicide missions—nations sent us to die so others didn't have to. And we didn't care. As long as it kept us busy as hell. I mean..that was my reason."
Artemis glanced over. "Were you okay with that?"
Nero paused a second too long before answering. "Didn't matter. Kept me moving. Kept the thoughts quiet. I'd take every job they gave me. Didn't care how dirty, how ugly. I became reckless just to keep my head from sinking into itself." He breathed through his nose. "And if I died doing it…fuck it."
A low chuckle came from Streng. "So… was it fun?" he asked with that wolfish grin. "Slaughtering?"
Nero didn't even look back. "It's nothing. Like I said, it kept me busy. It made me reckless. Which I'm fine with."
That was when Cain spoke up, his voice unusually clear. "Brat…How do you feel about death?"
Everyone turned slightly, surprised to hear him talk with such weight.
Nero answered after a beat. "I don't care if I live or die. If I die, maybe the thoughts finally stop. Wouldn't reject the Blood Sirens if they came floating down and dragged me off like a claw machine."
Terra, Streng, and Artemis asked, "What's that?"
Nero looked at them, then forgot these people are from different worlds.
'Figures. But how different are their worlds compared to mine?'
The silence that followed was heavier than the dark around them.
The only thing left was the cold. The pale moon offered barely a glow through the black clouds. The snow kept falling, piling, choking the forest in stillness.
Then… a distant roar.
Something demonic. Followed by the sound of metal crashing against something far larger, far stronger.
They froze.
Another roar. Then silence again.
Nero narrowed his eyes, already starting to step forward. "Something's fighting out there…"
He tensed, ready to sprint toward the noise—but something glimmered above. A warm flicker of light in the rotted sky.
It was a voice.
"—Oh my gosh, it's so gloomy and droopy down here!"
A sparkling presence descended: a glowing fairy, no larger than a human hand, trailed by ribbons of soft golden light. Her wings shimmered like wet silk, and her body glowed faintly pink and silver. Her eyes were radiant lilac, and a crown of dandelion threads floated over her head like a halo. Her voice was singsong and airy.
"Hellooo down there! Mirethel sent me!" she chirped joyfully. "To help guide you to the—"
SHLKT—!
In one savage blur, Terra's blood-scythe slashed up through the air and cleaved the fairy in half.
A sudden gasp followed—a mix of shock and guilt.
Terra's mouth dropped open. "OH! Oh no—oh my God—I'm so sorry!" she cried. "She—she scared me! I hate fairies! I didn't mean to—she popped up too fast—!"
Streng, Nero, and Cain all tackled her at once.
"YOU KILLED OUR ONLY GUIDE!" they shouted in unison, dogpiling her in the snow.
"I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" Terra screamed, trying to squirm out. "SHE JUST APPEARED! YOU CAN'T JUST APPEAR LIKE THAT!"
"You CUT HER IN HALF!" Nero yelled, snow flying as they wrestled.
"Maybe don't instinct murder people who float!" Cain growled, face half-buried in snow.
Meanwhile, Artemis knelt beside the shattered light in the snow. Gently, with slow, reverent movements, she scooped the small, twitching fairy remains into her hands. A faint flicker still pulsed within them.
She dug into the black snow, forming a small hollow, and buried the pieces carefully.
"Rest peacefully," she whispered. "Your mission was not in vain."
Then—light.
Faint, eerie light in the trees.
The group paused as a series of ghostly green flames began to bob in the distance, swaying like spirits. Lanterns. Carried by human hands.
Seven figures emerged from the shadows.
Each wore black tattered cloaks and heavy black leather armor, identical to what Nero, Terra, and Cain now wore. Their boots crunched forward with grim purpose. Each held a lantern in one hand, its flame burning green like witchfire. The other hand clutched steel—rusted swords, curved axes, and cruel spears.
Their faces were hidden by hoods—except one.
He stepped forward. A grizzled man with a thick black beard, long raven hair tied behind him, scarred cheeks, and sharp brown eyes like iron.
He pointed his weapon at Nero and the group.
"You're not Bladed Order," he growled. "Where the hell did you get that armor?! Where's our men?! There's dozens of missing units of us out there!"
Streng didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, smiling with bloodlust and pure malice, cracking his neck. "From your friends. Want it back?"
He drew his claws. "Come and slaughter me for it—if you blink, you'll miss your own guts spilling out."
Nero clenched his fist, the chains of his conjured wrecking ball beginning to crackle to life. But he was about to speak up and explain.
Cain was ready to conjure his Warhammer, and Terra pulled her blood-scythe back to hand.
Tension crackled through the forest.
But before it could snap—
Artemis stepped forward, glowing softly.
"I suggest," she said, her voice calm and commanding, "that we don't start a war in the middle of a cursed forest."
The tension between the two groups cut through the falling black snow like a sword poised for blood. The Bladed Order stood unmoving, half-shrouded in the sick green light of their lanterns, weapons drawn and eyes suspicious. Anon, the rugged bearded leader, had his weapon leveled, prepared to strike down imposters without mercy. But Artemis stepped forward, radiant in soft gold, like a statue carved from holy steel and solemn grace. She raised a hand—not to plead, but to assert.
"We found this clothing from the bodies of your comrades," she said calmly, yet firmly. Her voice had the tone of a mother explaining a hard truth to a child. "They were already dead. We did not kill them—we simply came upon them… left in the snow."
She glanced back at her team, who had quieted at her tone.
"My team needed the garments. They were complaining about the cold," Artemis added with a touch of weary fondness. "They were also… naked. And freezing. I provided them with warmth."
She gave a small bow of her head.
"If you still wish to challenge us… I will not hesitate to cut you all down where you stand," she said, voice still gentle. "With the utmost respect and kindness."
Nero thought, 'Damn. She's more ruthless than I thought. With a hint of being kind and peaceful, and serious..'
The Bladed Order stirred. Murmurs passed between the cloaked soldiers like a low wind. They examined Artemis more closely now—her body not quite human, shaped with the logic of golden clockwork and alchemical perfection. Sigils glowed faintly beneath her mechanical plating. She was a being of delicate power and dangerous symmetry, a relic from a higher age.
Anon narrowed his eyes. "…You're not of this world. I don't recognize that type of body. Advanced.."
"I am not," Artemis replied simply. "None of us are."
"I am Anon," he said, lowering his weapon ever so slightly. "A squad captain of the Bladed Order."
A gruff voice broke through the cautious quiet. "Why were they naked in the first place?" asked Carmine, a thick-bodied warrior with dark red hair cascading in curls over his shoulders. His braided beard was laced with iron rings, and his green eyes shone bright against the black.
He leaned close to Anon, whispering, "Maybe they're just drunk. Half-mad wanderers who stripped themselves."
Another soldier, older and meaner, scoffed from behind his lantern. "Or worse. Could be manifestations of the Black Fog. Trick spirits made to look human."
Terra, arms folded, tilted her head. "Black Fog?"
Anon turned toward her, his voice low and grim. "The snow you see falling… It's the after-effect of the Fog. When it's not cleared in time, the corruption seeps into the world, warping it. The environment twists based on where the fog spreads."
He lifted his lantern. "In colder regions, The Black Snow. In waterlands—black rain, or great floods thick with oil and rot. In forests, the trees twist into screaming faces and the rivers run backwards. Even deserts become glass wastelands where shadows move against the sun. Everything… becomes cursed. The beautiful becomes profane."
Nero asked, "What is the Fog?"
Carmine, standing nearby, answered this time. "A cloud of thick darkness. Appears randomly, covering entire kingdoms. Once inside it… you're in a demon's domain. That world bends to their will. It becomes their ideal kingdom—sick and personal and deadly. You kill the demon, the Fog clears. But take too long.. It spreads. Mutates everything. Like now."
Terra asked, "So what exactly is the Bladed Order?"
That question riled another knight. He snapped, stepping forward, "They're asking too many damn questions. This is suspicious. We should kill them before they get the chance to—"
"Hey," Terra growled, cutting him off, hot-blooded, standing firm. "I'll ask whatever I want. Obviously we're super new here."
The knight growled and took a step forward—.
KATHOOM!!
The ground exploded.
From the ground burst a monstrous titan of feathers, claws, and curses—a griffon, but one twisted by hell itself. Forty feet tall, its body was a grotesque fusion of lion and eagle, black feathers slick with tar-like ichor, and crimson veins glowing beneath its skin. Its wings snapped open like scythes, tearing trees from their roots. Its eyes burned molten red, twin coals of hatred and madness. A halo of broken black iron hovered above its crowned head, spinning in jagged circles.
The impact launched everyone backwards. Black snow burst like an avalanche. Trees shattered from the shockwave. Lanterns flew into the dark.
Three Bladed Order knights didn't even have time to scream. One was skewered through the chest by the griffon's beak. Another was flattened beneath a massive claw, his ribs bursting outward like shattered glass. The third tried to run—only for the griffon to swipe him mid-stride, tearing his body in half like wet paper, entrails whipping through the air.
When the chaos settled, the cursed griffon stood amid the carnage, its massive claws dripping with gore, the corpses of three knights crushed in its paws. Its head twitched side to side, birdlike, monstrous. Blood matted its black feathers. Smoke rose from its talons.
Nero grunted and pulled himself from a snowbank, already rising with clenched fists. Terra dragged herself from a tree trunk and spat out blood, readying her scythe. Cain stood slowly, cold rage in his eyes. Streng cracked his neck and grinned, bouncing on all fours like a predator. Artemis rose gracefully with the golden whir of her wings, her sword-arm unfurling.
Anon stood, shouting, "Form ranks! HOLD THE LINE!"
Carmine lit his blade with ruined fire magic, snarling, "Protect the lanterns!"
The griffon… sang.
A soft coo, almost beautiful—majestic and sorrowful. A haunting melody from its beastly throat, as if calling to a lost lover in a dream. The song flowed like velvet through the trees, surreal and aching.
But each note made the fog thicken. Shadows lengthened. The snow fell harder. The lanterns in the soldiers' hands cracked, thin spiderwebs of splintering glass forming beneath their light.
Anon's voice barked above the music, "The lanterns hold back the corruption! Don't let go of them! If they break—WE FALL!"
Carmine said to Anon, "That group over there, how are they not being affected by the Fog?"
"I don't know…something's up with them.."
He turned to Nero's group, shouting over the wind, "Stay back! This thing will tear you apart—we'll handle this!"
But Nero was already dashing forward, cloak billowing behind him, chain-wrecking ball conjuring with a molten roar.
Terra followed, sprinting through the snow like a crimson blur, laughing wildly.
Artemis' golden wings flared wide as she launched into the air, gliding past them with precision and speed.
Streng galloped forward like a bear possessed, tongue out, laughing like a madman, claws tearing up earth.
Anon, Carmine, and the surviving Bladed Order knights gasped, caught between awe and disbelief as these strangers hurled themselves into the jaws of death without hesitation.
"They fight as well!" Carmine said.
The cursed griffon moved like a divine storm unchained—its colossal talons raked through the earth with shattering force, uprooting stone and frost-bitten trees alike, its obsidian feathers bristling as if sculpted from jagged obsidian. As the titanic beast lunged, its lion body twisted with terrifying grace, beak snapping with a wet crack as it cleaved through a Bladed Order knight mid-scream. Blood misted the air.
Anon and Carmine fought to hold formation, arrows and aether-runes searing into its hide, but the monster vaulted upward with unnatural agility, wings unfolding into a cathedral-wide sweep that blasted them back in a swirl of razored winds. With its head twitching violently, the griffon exhaled a fell breath—black stormlight pouring from its beak—and the battlefield boiled with cursed fire.
Then Nero struck like a cannonball loosed from Hell.
His spiked wrecking ball spun with a high-pitched whirring snarl, black flames sizzling from each tooth of its rotating maw. He hurled it straight into the griffon's flank, and it exploded in a red-black burst that knocked the beast off balance, one leg buckling beneath it.
Before it could recover, Nero was already there—slamming his foot in a spinning kick into its knee joint, then yanking his weapon back mid-spin to smash the same leg again. The griffon screeched, tail whipping to retaliate, but Nero ducked under, vaulted up its feathered side using the spines as footholds, and slammed the wrecking ball downward into its wing base with a skull-rattling crash, the weapon detonating again in a red fiery burst, sending feathers and meat spiraling.
Terra spun in next, somersaulting beneath one of the griffon's backlegs, her scythe dragging across the ground, blood magic coiling and rippling with each precise, graceful slash. She twisted, rising with a diagonal carve that split the tendons above its ankle, then reversed the strike, her scythe's blade spinning behind her like a killing wheel before she jammed it into the griffon's gut—blood magic erupting outward from the wound in a violent spiral that made the creature reel. The griffon retaliated, but Terra vaulted over its paw, ricocheted off its shoulder, then flung a wide scythe sweep across its face that peeled off part of its beak.
Streng came bounding in like a bear drunk on slaughter, his hulking form slamming into the griffon's side with a guttural bellow.
"My turn! You pieces of flesh are having all the fun!"
He tore at its leg with both claws, grinding through feathers and sinew, then leapt to its chest, driving his fists in a brutal flurry into its ribs—shattering bones, laughing madly. The griffon thrashed, beak stabbing at him like a pike, but he dropped and rolled under it, came up again, and snatched one of its talons mid-swing, then wrenched it down with a grotesque pop, muscle and bone splintering. "Come on, you overgrown buzzard! I'll stuff your heart in your skull!" he howled, eyes gleaming, body steaming with torn skin already knitting back.
Artemis descended from above like a wrathful angel, wings folded tight before flaring out mid-fall. Her golden blade ignited as she slashed downward, red and gold flames streaming behind her like celestial banners. She pierced the griffon's back, flames flooding into the wound like a divine infection. The beast arched, and Artemis held on, riding its twitching body as she stabbed again—this time into its side, where flames blossomed beneath its skin, bursting open in searing ruptures. As the griffon tried to roll to crush her, she kicked off, wings catching the wind, and twisted midair to land on a snowy boulder. Her sword was already ready—and so was the next slash.
Cain's warhammer bashed into the griffon's shoulder with a crack of red-black lightning that flared into the clouds, vaporizing half the limb. The griffon roared, spinning to catch him, but Cain was already gone, dashing at breakneck speed, a phantom streak of lightning behind him. He vaulted off a ruined tree, came down with a double-handed slam, and buried the warhammer into the griffon's wing root—splintering it.
Electricity howled through the creature's bones as Cain twisted the weapon and ripped it free, then pivoted to parry a wild beak strike with the hammer's shaft. Sparks shattered outward. He spun and slammed the hammer into the side of the creature's skull, denting it.
The griffon screeched again, its voice rising into a desperate, unnatural chant, as if invoking some curse it no longer remembered. Black lightning crackled from its feathers, and it unleashed a sweeping wing beat that carved deep canyons through the snow and stone, but Artemis was already there, intercepting one of the windbursts with her wings locked, shielding the others.
Anon and Carmine tried to rejoin, arrows and ruin magic slashing across the battlefield, but they could only contribute seconds at a time before the chaos overwhelmed them. Then they simply stopped and stared, awe spreading across their bloodied faces, as Nero and his companions ascended into something mythic.
"They're something else…" Anon said silently.
With a final signal—silent, wordless, only known to them—Nero charged first. He slung the massive wrecking ball overhead, now ten times its size, and whipped it forward with a howl. It smashed into the griffon's sternum and exploded, launching the beast into a stagger.
Terra was already spinning behind it, her scythe hissing with blood magic. She cleaved through both hind legs in a flowing strike that left gaping wounds boiling with inner hemorrhage. Artemis descended in a spiral, her sword driving into its back, igniting the creature's spine with a chain of internal detonations. Cain came next—slamming down from above with his warhammer, caving in its skull with a final crack of black lightning that made the entire body seize. Streng rushed up its staggering form and jammed both claws into its jaw, ripping it open as he laughed.
The griffon collapsed in a heap of fire, smoke, and blood, twitching, head tilted sideways in death—its halo cracking and then vanishing. The fog around them slowly began to lift.
Silence.
The black snow still fell—but softer now. The battlefield was smeared with flame trails, blood, and shredded feathers. The corpses of the fallen knights lay scattered across the ground like broken dolls.
Anon stood still, hand loose on his sword. Carmine had lowered his bow. Around them, the remaining Bladed Order soldiers looked not with suspicion now, but awe.
"…Who are these people?" Anon muttered, breathless. "They're… insane."