Deep within the heart of the Schwarzwald, where the legendary elven sacred ground of Elfo Sagrado stood, there existed another, much darker presence. At the forest’s edge, shrouded in ancient trees and perpetual twilight, the main stronghold of the Cradle of Darkness had been established—a festering blight hidden within the world’s most sacred grove. The cult had claimed their foothold in the most brutal way possible. They razed a nearby village to the ground, slaughtering every last inhabitant. Now, their leader used the former village chief’s home as his own. The state of the house left no doubt about its new occupants: blood and torn flesh caked the walls and floor, a macabre reminder of what had become of its former owners. A black-robed dark mage approached the leader, its steps measured and quiet. “What is it?” the leader asked, voice calm but tinged with disinterest. “They failed in their assault.” The leader didn’t seem surprised. “Of course they did.” Several days earlier, a contingent of dark mages had launched an attack on the elven sacred ground, but the truth was, that incident hadn’t been sanctioned by the Cradle of Darkness. One of their own—a Transcendent dark mage—had defied orders and acted on his own accord. “Did he really think some foolish suicide attack would work against one of the world’s greatest Heroes? What an idiot.” The leader shook his head in disdain. Disgust clouded his expression as he spat contempt for the dark mage who had acted without orders and now lay dead. “What about casualties?” “We lost a Transcendent dark mage, three Advanced dark mages, and a significant number of powerful monsters.” The leader clicked his tongue in irritation. Those weren’t insignificant losses. If they’d lost that much power during a sanctioned assault on Kalosia’s holy land, the only option would have been to retreat immediately. However, the leader’s demeanor remained detached. “It’s fine. It’s not worth worrying about.” In the grand scheme of things, he wasn’t concerned. The world was already tilting into chaos. With the boundaries between worlds twisting and breaking down, demons had begun to reveal themselves openly. In turn, the power of those who served darkness—dark mages like himself—had grown in proportion. Most importantly, the Cradle of Darkness had invested a significant portion of their forces into this region. Their ambitions for the elven sacred ground were paramount—success here was everything. Losing a single Transcendent dark mage was a setback, but not a fatal one. “How is the sacrifice preparation coming?” the leader asked the subordinate. “It’s nearly complete. We should finish in a few days.” “Good. Let me know the moment everything’s ready.” The leader looked up at what remained of the house’s ceiling. During the massacre, the roof had collapsed, revealing a perfect view of the moon in the night sky. “We’ll all go to Hell when we die,” he murmured, almost cheerfully. “But that’s the price of the reward we’ll receive for our sacrifices. Make sure everything is ready quickly. It’s all for the descent of the Great Demon King.” “For the Great Demon King!” the dark mage echoed. The moonlight shone down on the ruined village, yet not a single ray seemed to reach the earth below. The darkness was absolute. “Fiego!” Ketal broke into a broad grin as soon as he saw the spirit. Fiego was the Legendary fire spirit. It had been the very first spirit Ketal had encountered in this world, and so their reunion, after all this time, was tinged with genuine warmth on Ketal’s part. Fiego, however, did not share the sentiment. The spirit recoiled, alarm flashing in its eyes, and made to turn away. However, Ketal was faster. Before Fiego could escape, Ketal reached out and caught it by the back. “It’s good to see you again!” The moment Ketal’s hand touched its back, a chill ran down Fiego’s spine. The sensation was like that of a lion’s claws pressing into the backbone of a buffalo—deadly, predatory, inescapable. Instinctively, Fiego lashed out in self-defense. A massive burst of flame erupted. It was fire in its purest, most fundamental form—a conflagration capable of banishing all darkness and flooding the world with blinding light. It engulfed Ketal in an instant. Yet the fire didn’t so much as singe Ketal’s flesh. Fiego gaped in horror. “Impossible!” Even a direct hit from pure elemental fire hadn’t harmed him in the slightest. The last time they’d fought, Ketal had also seemed immune, but Fiego had assumed that was because they’d been in the Mortal Realm, where a spirit’s power was weakened. Now, there was no such limitation. Here, in the Spirit Realm, its power was at its peak—and still, Ketal was unharmed. Meanwhile, Ketal seemed not the least bit bothered by the attack. In fact, he looked delighted. “Wow! You don’t disappear when I touch you!” The other spirits he’d met in the Spirit Realm had all vanished the instant he tried to approach or grab them, as if they were panicking at his presence. However, Fiego remained. It brought a satisfied smile to Ketal’s face. “As expected from a Legendary spirit.” “What do you want, barbarian?” Fiego glared at him. It had tried to escape, but there was no way to break free. Resigned, it asked, “What the hell are you doing in the Spirit Realm? How did you even get here?” How could a human—no, a barbarian of all people—be in the Spirit Realm? Fiego thought. It was beyond comprehension. Ketal just grinned at it, looking utterly pleased with himself. “Karin helped me.” “Karin? Don’t tell me... you mean the High Elf Queen?” Fiego’s voice quivered with disbelief. Ketal nodded. “You know her?” “Wait. She never leaves Elfo Sagrado. How could you possibly...?” “I was just in Elfo Sagrado.” A barbarian, in the sacred land of the elves? Fiego’s mind spun in confusion. Ketal cocked his head. “Didn’t you hear from Marseria?” Ketal had been invited to the elven sacred ground by Fiego’s contractor, Marseria. Naturally, he assumed Fiego would know as well—but the spirit looked unaware. “Now that you mention it, she did say something like that... I thought she was joking, so I ignored her. I didn’t think it could possibly be true.” Ketal laughed. “So you did know. Is Marseria doing well? The world’s gotten chaotic—I worry about her.” “If there was trouble, she would have called me. I haven’t been summoned recently.” “Then she must be fine. That’s a relief.” Ketal’s smile softened with genuine relief. However, Fiego continued to look at Ketal as if he were some unfathomable anomaly. “So, you got an invitation to the sacred ground—I’ll accept that. But how in the world are you on such close terms with the High Elf Queen?” Fiego asked him. The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the NoveI~Fire.net To all spirits, especially those of high rank, the High Elf Queen was a figure of extraordinary power and dignity. She alone had formed a contract with the Spirit King, and her influence extended over all elves in existence. For ordinary elves, even glimpsing her face was a privilege; for an outsider to meet her was practically impossible. Ketal replied casually, “Oh, I got close to a High Elf during my adventure. She helped me out reaching out to the High Elf Queen.” Fiego hesitated. “You... befriended a High Elf outside the sacred ground?” “Technically, she’s my teacher, but I’d say we’re friends, too.” “Your teacher? A barbarian and a High Elf? And friends on top of that?” “Is that so strange?” “No, I suppose not...” Fiego’s worldview felt as though it were collapsing. However, as a Legendary spirit, it was rarely called down to the Mortal Realm, so perhaps things had simply changed more than it realized. Only the High Elf Queen—Karin—could send a human to the Spirit Realm. That Ketal was here proved he wasn’t lying. Maybe the High Elves have become more open-minded lately, Fiego thought. Could it be they’re actually going out into the world, making connections? Hard to imagine—they were always more close-minded than spirits themselves. Still processing this revelation, Fiego finally cut to the main issue. “So, why did you come here? Are you planning to destroy the Spirit Realm or something?” Ketal looked appalled. “What kind of brute do you take me for? I just want to form a contract with a spirit.” “A contract?” Fiego looked surprised, then quickly seemed to piece things together. “So you couldn’t find a spirit in your world to make a contract with, so you came here yourself?” “That’s right. Unfortunately, I keep failing.” “Of course you do. There isn’t a spirit here that could possibly form a contract with you.” Fiego gave a sharp, derisive laugh. “The weaker spirits will flee the moment they sense you. Even if you manage to force one to stay, they’d be unable to endure your power—they’d simply scatter back into nature. Only the strongest spirits, like myself, could withstand it.” “Just as I thought.” Ketal sighed, his face falling in disappointment. But suddenly, hope flickered in his eyes. “Fiego, in that case....” “You didn’t even let me finish!” “You’re going to ask to form a contract with me, aren’t you? Forget it. It’s impossible. I’m already contracted to Marseria.” “Is that really the reason?” “Yes. Dual contracts are impossible. No matter how much you want it, you can’t form a contract with me. And besides, you don’t have nearly enough Myst.” To contract with a high-level spirit, one needed an equivalent amount of Myst. For an Epic spirit, an Advanced amount of Myst would suffice; for a Legendary spirit like Fiego, a Transcendent amount of Myst was required. Even that was just the bare minimum. However, Ketal barely possessed even an Intermediate amount of Myst. At best, he could contract a Rare spirit, but none of them could withstand the overwhelming force of his presence. “I see....,” Ketal murmured, clearly disappointed. “Now that you know, you should just go back to the Mortal Realm. This is no place for someone like you.” As Fiego slowly edged away, it admitted to itself that just being near Ketal was deeply unnerving. What is with this guy’s presence? The last time, it had been banished so quickly it hadn’t had time to notice, but now, standing close and speaking face to face, Fiego could truly feel it. Ketal’s aura was enormous. Even though he kept it under tight control, this was the Spirit Realm—a place composed entirely of natural energies. To a Legendary spirit, the pressure Ketal exuded was nearly unbearable. Is he even human? Fiego wondered, for the first time understanding the unease that others felt around Ketal. It felt as if it were standing before a monster in human skin. Ketal frowned, deep in thought. If Fiego was right, then there was simply no way for him to form a spirit contract here. Should I just go back and discuss things with Karin again? he wondered. He opened his mouth to say as much, but suddenly, he sensed something powerful. “Wait,” Fiego said as it flinched. Ketal instantly sensed it too. Something immense was approaching from beyond—something whose mere existence pressed down on the world and dominated everything around it. Its presence dwarfed even Fiego’s, making comparison pointless. Ketal muttered, “Is it the Spirit King?” Fiego was a Legendary spirit, and Ketal naturally thought the only being higher was the Spirit King. The overwhelming presence was drawing nearer, closer and closer, until Ketal realized he was wrong. He had seen Karin summon the Spirit King before, and while that had only been a partial summoning, he could at least gauge the general magnitude of its power. The presence approaching now was far beyond that—like the difference between an ant and a human. Ketal had felt this level of power only once before. “No, no way...” Fiego’s voice trembled. The crushing force bore down on it so strongly that its form began to flicker and fade. It could barely maintain cohesion. Simply by drawing near, the new arrival overwhelmed even a Legendary spirit. The pressure was suffocating. Then, at last, the figure appeared before them. A humanoid shape, draped in white robes, stood as tall as a small hill. Its form shifted and blurred, like a wisp of mist caught between worlds—unstable, as if fully revealing its true self would cause reality itself to collapse. Ketal smiled broadly. “It’s an honor to meet you. I am Ketal, a barbarian. May I ask your name?” “Beatrice.” The reply resonated—not in a voice, but as a convergence of water’s ripple, the brush of wind, the sound of stone splitting—all overlapping, forming words in the air. “The Spirit God. Beatrice.” “O Great Beatrice!” Fiego gasped and bowed low, its form trembling and threatening to dissolve at any moment. Only when Beatrice glanced briefly at Fiego and suppressed their overwhelming aura did it finally stabilize. “T-thank you.”Fiego’s voice shook as it spoke. Beatrice did not answer. The Spirit God gazed silently at Ketal, their otherworldly presence filling the realm.