THE YING BLADE

Whilst there was an inferno at the border, as Jada Squad fought Platoon One, the special squad led by Cleon successfully managed to infiltrate Nordia and head towards the capital.

"How long is the journey to the capital?" asked Sylve, keeping pace with the squad as they dashed through the dense woodland.

"It's about a seven-hour run," Cleon replied, his eyes scanning the darkened terrain ahead. "But we need to be careful. We're sure to bump into enemies making their way toward Delria."

The squad moved swiftly, weaving through the forests and rocky mountain trails, their footfalls light yet purposeful. Every shadow, every rustle of the leaves, could mean danger.

Cleon turned to Pero, the squad's sharp-eyed aerial scout. "Fly ahead while we run. Keep your eyes sharp. If you see any enemies, signal us immediately."

Pero nodded, his wings spreading as he lifted off into the sky, disappearing into the moonlit clouds.

Hours passed, the journey eerily quiet. No sign of Berserkers yet.

Cleon finally raised a fist, signaling a halt. "Alright, let's take this chance to meditate and recharge our inner reserves. We don't know if we'll get another opportunity once we get closer to our destination."

The squad spread out, each warrior settling beneath a tree or perching on branches above. Their breaths steadied, bodies stilling as they tapped into their reserves, drawing upon the energy within them to recover their strength.

An hour passed. Then, Pero's sharp cry from above shattered the silence.

He swooped down swiftly, landing beside Cleon. "There's a squad of about ten Berserkers heading straight toward us. They're running hard."

Cleon's eyes narrowed. "Alright, we hide. Up in the trees, now. Stay concealed. If they pass without noticing us, we let them go. But if they spot us…" his voice dropped into a dangerous whisper, "we wipe them out before word gets out."

The squad nodded, vanishing into the canopy in a blur of movement. Hidden among the leaves, their presence was completely masked, their breathing shallow, bodies motionless.

The Berserker squad approached, their heavy steps thudding against the forest floor. Their leader, a tall, scarred warrior named Draco, ran at the front, his expression unreadable.

But suddenly, he stopped.

"Why are you stopping, Draco? We need to keep moving," one of the soldiers, a woman named Ria, called back to him.

Draco's sharp eyes darted around the trees, scanning the darkness. His tone was cold, unwavering. "I sense something."

The squad slowed, their gazes following Draco's.

But the forest remained still.

Ria scoffed. "There's nothing there, Draco. Let's go."

Draco exhaled, his hand hovering near the dagger strapped to his side. "Fine, Ria. Let's go."

They resumed their sprint—but just as Draco took his next step, his arm snapped forward, and with inhuman speed, he flung a dagger straight toward the trees.

It whistled through the air with blistering force.

Rakel barely managed to twist out of the way, but the sheer speed of the attack knocked him off balance. He fell from the tree, landing with a soft thud directly behind the Berserker squad.

A smirk played at Rakel's lips as he straightened. "Well, aren't you quite perceptive?"

The Berserkers whirled around, weapons drawn.

Draco's gaze hardened. "Who are you?" he demanded coldly.

Before Rakel could respond, another figure dropped down beside him—Maron.

"Don't worry about who we are," Maron said, rolling his shoulders. "You made a mistake spotting us. Now we can't let you leave here alive."

Draco's stance remained unshaken. He turned to his squad. "Ready yourselves, Platoon 3, Squad 1. These are powerful enemies. Fight like your lives depend on it."

A low, collective growl rumbled from the Berserkers as they drew their weapons.

Above them, Cleon and Azura remained hidden in the trees, watching, waiting.

Then, in one fluid motion, the special beast squad transformed—bodies shifting, bones reshaping as they entered their half-man, half-beast forms.

A battle was about to erupt.

The tension shattered in an instant.

Maron was the first to move. A golden blur streaked across the battlefield as he exploded forward, his claws gleaming in the moonlight. Before the first Berserker could react, Maron was already upon him. A sickening crunch echoed through the forest as Maron's claws ripped through the man's throat, tearing muscle and sinew apart in a single fluid motion. Blood sprayed across the dirt as the Berserker collapsed, gurgling on his own lifeblood.

The others barely had a moment to register what happened before Jade was in the air. She launched herself off a tree branch, flipping gracefully above her target. Her katana gleamed as she twisted mid-air, bringing the blade down in a clean, precise arc. The Berserker barely had time to scream before his head was severed from his shoulders. It tumbled to the ground, eyes still wide in shock, as his body slumped forward like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Hold your ground!" Draco barked, his purple-glowing short machete , Ying, clenched in his fist. The Ying Blade is one half of the legendary twin machetes Ying and Yang. Forged from an ancient metal infused with inner energy, Ying glows with a deep purple aura, pulsating with power. It significantly enhances the wielder's speed, strength, and reflexes, making them an almost untouchable force in battle. When used, the machete leaves behind trails of violet light, creating afterimages that confuse enemies.

Though powerful on its own, Ying is only half of its true form—without its counterpart, Yang, it is incomplete, limiting its full potential. Despite this, it remains a deadly weapon, capable of unleashing devastating shockwaves and striking with unparalleled precision.

He lunged toward Maron, his enhanced speed allowing him to keep up with the cheetah warrior's rapid movements.

But Syvle stepped forward.

Lightning crackled around his massive frame as his body expanded, fur turning pure white as he transformed into his full beast form. His squadmates paused for just a moment, awed by the sheer presence of the polar bear warrior.

Then Syvle moved.

The ground shook beneath his weight as he charged straight into two Berserkers. Before they could react, his enormous paw swung outward, crushing one's skull with a single swipe. The other tried to dodge—too slow. Syvle grabbed him by the torso and slammed him into the ground with enough force to shatter the earth beneath them. Bones splintered, organs burst. The Berserker twitched once—then went still.

Draco, gritting his teeth, moved like lightning. His machete flickered in the dim light, striking toward Maron's throat with pinpoint precision. But Maron was faster. He twisted at the last second, the blade grazing his cheek instead of slitting his throat.

Maron grinned. "Not bad."

Then he vanished again.

Behind him, Rakel and Alba tore through the remaining Berserkers. Rakel, the lion warrior, roared, his golden mane glowing with raw power as he pounced on one of Draco's men. His claws sank into the man's chest, pinning him to the ground before tearing his ribs apart in a brutal display of dominance.

Alba, the minotaur, was pure destruction. Water whirled around his massive arms as he swung his fists like battering rams. One Berserker charged him, sword raised—only for Alba's fist to connect with his skull, caving it in like a rotten fruit. Another tried to strike from behind, but Alba spun, grabbing the attacker by the throat and lifting him off the ground. With a single flex of his fingers, he crushed the man's windpipe before hurling the lifeless body aside.

Ria, one of Draco's strongest fighters, refused to go down without a fight. She met Jade head-on, their swords clashing in a dazzling display of speed and technique. Ria fought with precision, deflecting Jade's rapid slashes and countering with deadly thrusts.

But Jade was faster.

She flipped over Ria's head, landing behind her in an instant. Before Ria could turn, Jade's katana sliced cleanly through her waist.

For a moment, Ria froze, eyes wide.

Then her body split apart, her upper half collapsing forward while her legs remained standing for a second longer before toppling over.

Draco saw red.

With a furious roar, he lunged at Jade, Ying flashing in his hand. But before he could strike, a blur of feathers descended from the sky.

Pero.

The falcon warrior swooped down, talons outstretched. He raked his claws across Draco's arm, forcing the machete from his grip. Draco snarled, flipping backward to regain his footing, his eyes burning with fury. Pero circled above him, ready to strike again.

Draco's men were dying all around him. Blood stained the battlefield. Maron tore through another Berserker like a reaper, while Rakel and Alba annihilated the last remaining fighters.

Draco panted, his machete trembling in his grip. He was the only one left.

Maron, Jade, Syvle, Rakel, Alba, and Pero surrounded him.

For the first time in a long time, Draco felt fear.

His grip on Ying tightened. His dagger was his only chance—his only lifeline. His body screamed at him to fight, but his mind knew the truth.

He couldn't win.

With a growl of frustration, he planted his dagger at the ground, releasing a massive purple shockwave that blinded the warriors around him.

By the time the light faded—

Draco was gone.