25) Sword of Final Fury

That night, they feasted—on foraged fruits, cooked frost-venison, and the strange yet delicious meat of a purified cave-fish Gloria somehow grilled with her sword. It was the first real moment of peace after six and a half long years in the Frost Realm.

"Nine and a half years left," Gloria said, raising a roasted root with mild despair. "Time's not waiting."

Everett leaned back against the stone, hands behind his head. "Then let's not either. What's next?"

Guruji didn't speak at first. He simply pointed west.

"The heart of the forest. Beneath a tree that drinks souls and sunlight alike."

---

Demon Tree of the Realm

The trio traveled to the core of the realm's great forest. What awaited them was a monster disguised as a monument: the Demon Tree—a towering banyan-like creature whose branches spanned a mile and whose veins pulsed with thick, sap-like blood. Around it, the land was barren. No plants. No animals. No sound.

"The tree consumes everything," Gloria whispered. "It's not rooted—it's throned."

As they stepped closer, the ground shuddered. Roots snapped from the soil like serpents, vines slashed down like bladed whips, and leaves with obsidian thorns launched toward them like bullets.

Everett raised his hand. "Frost Shield."

A dome of blue frost formed around them—dense, glowing, and impenetrable. The thorn-leaves shattered on contact like glass on steel.

Gloria blinked. "That's not just a shield…"

Guruji nodded. "The Shard didn't only evolve the beast. It evolved the boy."

The Demon Tree grew agitated. Runes lit across its bark, and the onslaught redoubled.

"Time to strike back," Everett growled.

He summoned all nine of his beasts, flanking the tree's perimeter. Vines and roots writhed and screamed as they were torn apart by claws, fangs, and icy blasts.

Then Everett called upon AshStorm Mammoth.

The mammoth stomped forward. Its molten core pulsed. Everett's Ice Spears formed a halo around him and launched forward, freezing the terrain in a hundred-meter arc.

Meanwhile, Gloria stood atop the mammoth's back, sword pointed skyward. Wind howled around her.

"By oath of stars and blood once sworn,

Let ancient wrath in light be born.

From forge of gods, my blade now wakes,

To cleave the curse no shadow breaks.

Descend, O flame, through fate and sky—

And let the Tree of Ages die."

Behind her, a phantom knight of glowing rage materialized, armored in seething mist, face hidden beneath a cracked helm. He roared, raising his blade to mirror hers.

His sword mirrored hers, but his armor wept steam, as though forged from frost and flame at once.

Gloria slashed vertically.

" Sword of Final Fury !!! "

A single white line extended from her sword to the tree's core—a cut so thin it was nearly invisible, yet so precise the earth itself seemed to pause.

The tree convulsed when it sensed danger. Its roots withdrew, forming a dome of protection.

Guruji began chanting, his voice rising:

"When Gods fell and Demons rose, let fire seal fate... and frost break truth!"

Guruji's chant dazed the tree, staggering its mind and slowing its roots.

AshStorm Mammoth opened its mouth.

A sphere of fire—Fire Core—launched toward the tree. Mid-air, it morphed into a Fire Mammoth, ten times the size of the original. It roared and collided with the tree like a comet crashing into the world.

Flames engulfed the demon tree. It screeched, writhing in agony.

But just as fire consumed bark—frost answered.

From Everett's hand, a marble-sized orb of cold slipped forward… silent, merciless.

It touched the burning bark... and everything froze.

Instantly.

The Demon Tree's bark cracked. Its branches turned to glass. Then—

SLASH.

The Sword of Final Fury landed.

The tree didn't fall. It relented. As if even it knew it had been judged.

They stood panting, exhausted, smoke rising from their cloaks. But they laughed.

They had done it—defeated a Tier-2 creature. Their first true victory at that scale.

Everett approached the charred stump. Nestled beneath the roots lay a glowing green shard.

As he touched it, he felt the cube inside him stir.

The shard hummed—not with Everett, but in echo of the beast's soul.

This shard is for AshStorm Mammoth alone.

He didn't know why. Maybe it was affinity. Maybe mystery. But he resisted. He would wait—collect more, test what came next.

Back at their camp, Gloria finally asked, "Shall we challenge the Earth Salamander next?"

Everett shook his head. "No. Earth Salamander moves. Demon Tree was fixed—we could focus everything on it. The salamander… it slips."

Guruji added, "It may be the 'weakest' by force... but not by danger."

They all fell silent.

Nine and a half years left.

The forest realm was far from done with them.