Chapter 56 – The Masked Claimants

The lead figure stepped forward, cloak rippling with unnatural weight. Rael's instincts flared—this wasn't just a man. Whatever it had once been, it was something other now.

The mask it wore resembled a twisted fox, etched with blood-red runes that pulsed like veins. Its aura wasn't powerful in the way of brute force—it was deeper, older, as if soaked in grave soil and forgotten names.

Beside Rael, Yue's face tensed.

"Corrupted," she murmured. "Their souls have been tethered… to something dead."

Rael didn't look at her. His eyes remained on the one in the lead.

"What do you want?" he asked again, voice low.

The masked figure tilted its head.

"You carry the Third Brand. The Path of Command does not belong to the living."

Another figure stepped out of the mist—shorter, broader, its mask shaped like a bear's skull.

"Return the power," it said. "Or bleed it out."

Yue took a single step forward, robes fluttering.

Her tone was calm. "This land is under the Covenant's protection. You are trespassing."

The fox-mask chuckled.

"So were the Bearers, once."

And with that, the ground beneath them cracked.

Rael barely had time to react—an explosion of force erupted from the fox-mask's palm. Black Qi surged like a wave of screaming shadows, slamming toward the ruined hall.

He pivoted on instinct, activating the residue of the Brand. Bones burst from the ground around him, forming a jagged wall.

The impact shattered it in a burst of bone shards—but slowed the force enough for him to dive aside.

Yue was already moving—she swept her sleeve, and a pale silver arc bloomed. Lunar Qi shimmered like starlight, and the dark wave recoiled, hissing as it met her power.

She turned to Rael.

"No mercy. They're husks."

Rael nodded. "Understood."

---

The battle began in earnest.

The bear-masked figure charged, body rippling with unnatural strength. Its footsteps cracked the earth—each step sent tremors through the cliff.

Rael met it head-on.

He ducked low, activating the Third Brand. The bones of a forgotten warrior—buried beneath this very village—rose from the earth at his call. Their broken blade spun into his hand.

The figure swung a black-iron fist. Rael rolled beneath it, slashing upward with the jagged blade. Sparks flew as the weapon struck the figure's shoulder, but instead of bleeding—it split open into ash.

The figure laughed.

Rael's eyes narrowed.

"Not flesh. Not even a body."

He channeled more Qi—forcefully drawing from the shattered Brand. Pain exploded behind his eyes as he commanded more dead to rise.

A dozen skeletal limbs erupted from the dirt, grappling the figure's legs, dragging it down.

Rael leapt onto its back and drove the blade between its neck and shoulder.

A screech split the air—not from the figure, but from the mask. It cracked down the middle, emitting a thin stream of violet mist.

The body went limp, collapsing into dust and bones.

---

Across the clearing, Yue danced between blades of darkness.

The fox-mask was faster—its strikes precise, unrelenting. But Yue was fluid, her robes drifting like falling snow. Every movement was a calculated ripple.

She caught a blade between two fingers, spun, and sent a pulse of Lunar Qi straight into the fox-mask's chest.

A burst of light.

The figure staggered—its mask cracked slightly.

It hissed and flung a dagger of cursed Qi at her. She leaned sideways, letting it pass by her cheek, and responded with a whip of silver light that burned through the mist.

Then another voice called out.

From the fog, a third figure emerged.

This one did not wear a mask—but a helmet made of ironwood, carved into the likeness of an owl. Its robes were ceremonial, ancient. A staff hung from its back.

Its presence was different. Still. Dangerous.

Rael felt the shift in air pressure.

The new figure spoke calmly.

"You are not the first to inherit the Command. But you will be the last."

With a motion of its staff, the earth beneath Rael and Yue split apart—runes lighting up in crimson, forming a circle of suppression.

Rael dropped to one knee. The air thickened. His connection to the Brand flickered.

Yue gritted her teeth.

"A sealing array."

The owl-figure's voice was quiet.

"You've stolen power from the dead. We are the stewards of the Broken Path. Your soul does not belong."

Rael clenched his fists. His teeth ground.

Something in his chest responded.

He wasn't sure if it was the Brand—or something deeper.

Not fear.

Defiance.

He drew his breath.

And then he remembered what Yue said.

"Each Brand takes something from you…"

Then what had it taken?

His limits.

Rael dug his fingers into the soil.

And commanded.

The broken bones beneath the cliff surged upward—not soldiers, this time—but animals. Ancient wolves, deer, even the ribs of a cliff-wyrm—all long dead, buried beneath this forgotten village.

They rose.

A skeletal storm exploded around him.

The sealing array cracked.

Yue's Lunar Qi surged through the fractures like starlight through ice.

She moved. A silver crescent appeared behind her—formed from pure will. She threw it like a scythe toward the owl-masked figure.

The masked man blocked it with his staff, but the force pushed him back—enough for Rael to rise.

His bones sang.

His vision burned.

And still, he stood.

"You want the Brand?" he whispered.

"I earned it."

---

The battle was no longer three against two.

It was now Rael and Yue against something ancient, something buried—and something watching.

But neither stepped back.

Not now.

As dawn crept behind the mountains, the cliffside became a field of shattered masks and pale fire.

And in the silence after the last blow, Rael stood with his blade of bones—breathing heavily.

Yue limped toward him.

Their eyes met.

Neither said a word.

They had survived.

But the questions remained.

Who were the masked claimants?

And what force were they serving?