As dawn broke over the horizon, the warship carrying the battered Xandrian forces sailed steadily toward home. Their mission—occupying Niceland and bringing Niles to face the king’s judgment—had ended in complete failure.

  “XANDRIA IN SIGHT!” a sailor bellowed from the main mast.

  Bear stood at the ship’s bow, arms resting on the wooden railing. The wind carried them forward, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Elephant approached and stood beside him.

  “How are you feeling?” Elephant asked.

  Bear’s gaze remained fixed on the growing silhouette of the capital. “Good question. No one’s ever asked me that before.”

  Elephant gave a small nod. “Something I picked up from our time in Niceland.”

  A faint chuckle rumbled from behind Bear’s snarling beast helmet. “Niceland, huh?” He exhaled. “What a deathtrap.” He allowed himself a dry chuckle, but it quickly faded. “We lost good soldiers, and what do we have to show for it?” His grip tightened on the railing. “Just my failure.”

  Chameleon approached from behind. “If you’d like, I could pretend to be—”

  He didn’t get to finish. Jackal cut in sharply, “I just looked into the future, and that was your worst idea so far.”

  Chameleon folded his arms. “One second into the future isn’t enough.”

  Jackal smacked the back of Chameleon’s head. “If only your ideas were as good as your transformations.”

  Ignoring their banter, Bear continued. “No holy crystal. No captured Niles. Too many dead.” His voice lowered. “Our punishment will be severe.”

  A heavy silence followed.

  “More like your punishment,” Chameleon muttered.

  Elephant shot him a warning glare. “Chameleon.” His tone was sharp.

  Chameleon shrugged. “So I’m scolded when I lie, and now I’m scolded when I tell the truth? You all really need to make up your minds.”

  Jackal raised his hand in a threatening motion.

  “Okay, okay,” Chameleon said, hands raised in mock surrender. “I get it.”

  Meanwhile, in Xandria, keen-eyed scouts patrolling the castle walls spotted the warship’s tattered sails snapping against the wind. The Xandrian flag was unmistakable.

  Soldiers rushed to Dragon, who was deep in discussion with King Xerxes and several high-ranking military officials.

  “My king!” a soldier shouted, voice urgent. “The warship that pursued Sir Niles and the holy crystal is returning! They’ll soon be docking at the harbor!”

  Upon hearing the news, Dragon’s pen slipped from her fingers, rolling across the table. She looked up at the king.

  Xerxes exhaled, nodding. “Finally. We could use some good news.” Relief softened his usually stern features. He pushed back his chair. “Let’s adjourn for now. We’ll reconvene later today.”

  The assembled officers murmured in agreement before dispersing. But Dragon didn’t linger—she was already moving. She sprinted from the chamber, soldiers falling in step behind her as she made her way toward the harbor.

  But first, she detoured to the armory. Snatching a buckler from the rack, she strapped it to her arm. One of the soldiers, struggling to match her pace, eyed her curiously. “Why the shield, Commander?”

  Behind the sculpted visage of her dragon-helm, Dragon smirked. “Vulture always fires a test shot when she returns from a mission. Wants to make sure I’m still worthy of leading them.” Her tone was warm, almost nostalgic—like an old joke played one too many times but never growing stale.

  The soldier swallowed. “That… sounds dangerous.”

  Dragon chuckled. “Our missions always carry danger.” Then, as an afterthought, “She removes the arrowhead for these little games.”

  She didn’t slow down. If anything, she sped up, tearing through the streets faster than any of her escort. By the time she reached the docks, she stood alone, watching as the Xandrian flag on the naval vessel grew larger on the horizon.

  Inside the ship, the crew prepared for arrival. Soldiers secured their gear, their movements efficient but subdued. The weight of their loss hung over them like a fog.

  Bear had retreated to his chambers, tidying his space in silence.

  Chameleon, ever restless, had climbed to the main mast, gazing ahead at their capital. “Elephant, I can see your favorite café!” he called down.

  Elephant barely turned. “How long’s the line?”

  Chameleon squinted. “Hard to tell, one sec—” Without warning, his form shifted, bones and flesh rearranging until he took on Vulture’s familiar shape. He flexed her eyes experimentally. “I really wish my skill let me copy abilities too,” he muttered. “Can’t see much farther than usual.”

  Then, in Vulture’s body, he peeked into the front of her clothes. “I’ll miss these two.”

  Elephant caught sight of him and let out a slow, deep sigh. He turned to Jackal. “Discipline him.”

  Jackal, unbothered, had already grabbed a piece of wood from a crate. “Planned to.”

  With a flick of his wrist, the makeshift club spun through the air, striking Chameleon square in his stolen face. The impact broke his concentration, forcing his transformation to cancel. He yelped as his body shifted back—and lost his balance entirely.

  With a strangled cry, Chameleon tumbled from the mast, limbs flailing, before slamming onto the deck with a heavy thump.

  A beat of silence.

  Then, a groan. “I’m all right!”

  Jackal exhaled through his nose. “Should’ve thrown harder.”

  Elephant said nothing, his gaze fixed on the approaching city.

  Jackal, arms crossed, spoke again, voice steady. “Brother Elephant.” He didn’t glance at Chameleon still groaning on the deck. “Your actions will have consequences.”

  Elephant remained quiet, deep in thought.

  Jackal continued, softer now. “But know this—I was in favor of them, too.” He let his eyes settle on the capital ahead. “And without you, many more would’ve fallen. I’ll stand with you in whatever comes next.”

  Bear approached the group, a large bag slung over his shoulder. The metal within clanked softly with each step—heavy, unyielding, its weight far greater than its mere physical mass. It was not just steel he carried, but the memory of those who once wielded it.

  “I’ll let you all walk off first after the soldiers,” he murmured, his voice low, leaden.

  Elephant shook his head. “We do this together.”

  Chameleon dragged himself up beside them, wincing. “What? Even me?”

  Jackal exhaled. “Yes, even you.”

  Bear glanced down, eyes narrowing behind his beastly helmet. “Why are you crawling like a worm?”

  Chameleon’s voice cracked with outrage. “BECAUSE JACKAL THREW A PIECE OF WOOD AT ME, AND I FELL OFF THE MAIN MAST!”

  Bear gave a slow nod, then turned to Jackal. “Great aim, Brother Jackal.”

  Jackal dipped his head, ever composed. “Thank you.”

  Chameleon exploded. “DON’T COMPLIMENT HIM!”

  Bear barely acknowledged him. “Was it dese—”

  “Yes,” Jackal cut in coldly, before the question could even finish.

  “IT ACTUALLY HURT!” Chameleon went on, but Elephant, ignoring the outburst, nudged his shoulder.

  “Look who’s waiting for us.” His voice was quiet.

  Chameleon groaned and lifted his head. His eyes landed on Dragon standing at the docks. Instantly, all his physical pain became irrelevant. He swallowed thickly.

  “Jackal, please knock me out. I don’t want to do this.”

  Without hesitation, the Xargian guard stepped behind Chameleon, drew the hilt of his sword back, and struck. The blow was swift, precise—Chameleon crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. Elephant caught his limp body with practiced ease, hefting him over his shoulder.

  Bear briefly considered making the same request—avoiding their leader’s gaze was tempting. But he exhaled sharply. No. He had duties to fulfill.

  As the warship neared the dock, a crowd gathered, murmuring among themselves, eager to welcome their returning heroes.

  Dragon stood at the front, raising her buckler high in the air. Bear, Jackal, and Elephant recognized the gesture immediately. Chameleon, being unconscious on Elephant’s shoulder, didn’t notice at all.

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  To ease the weight of the moment, Elephant took the lead in their Xargian ritual.

  “Breathe in confidence,” he commanded.

  The trio inhaled deeply.

  “Exhale fear.”

  They released their breath in unison.

  “Inhale faith.”

  Again, they breathed in.

  “Exhale doubt.”

  The ritual settled a small but needed comfort over them just as the ship’s hull groaned against the wooden dock. Sailors rushed to lower a plank to the harbor.

  “Welcome back!” Dragon called, scanning the deck, her eyes flicking from corner to corner, half-expecting an arrow to come whizzing toward her. None did—not today.

  Then the soldiers disembarked.

  They were fewer than expected. Many were injured, their bodies wrapped in bandages, their movements slow and pained. Dragon, who had been so energetic just seconds before, stilled.

  A whisper rippled through the crowd.

  “Why are there so few?”

  “Why are they carrying stretchers?”

  Dragon said nothing. She only watched them pass—until her gaze locked onto the Xargian guard.

  Elephant was the first to step off the plank, Chameleon still slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain. As he passed Dragon, he tapped her on the shoulder. Then Jackal followed, tapping her other shoulder in the same manner. A subtle ritual, one that should’ve meant something.

  Then it was Bear’s turn. He took a deep breath, exhaling through his nose before stepping onto solid ground. Dragon watched him expectantly, waiting for the surprise, the joke, the trick—something. But there was nothing.

  Behind her, Elephant and Jackal stood in silence.

  Bear dropped the heavy bag onto the docks. The metal inside clattered, a dull, mournful sound. Then, without a word, he reached in and pulled out a helmet, handing it to Dragon.

  She hesitated, still not understanding. Then she turned it over in her hands. A vulture.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Her fingers trembled.

  “No, no, no.” Her voice wavered before she let out a forced chuckle, one that barely masked her growing panic. “You’re joking. I order you to stop joking. Where is—”

  But Bear said nothing.

  Instead, he reached into the bag again. Another helmet. He placed it in her hands.

  A hyena.

  “Hyena,” she breathed, her hands shaking.

  Bear remained silent.

  Her breath hitched. Before he could reach for another, she yanked the bag away from him.

  “I SAID STOP!” she shouted. “DON’T YOU PULL PRANKS WITH ME!”

  Jackal’s voice cut through the air behind her. “Captain… I’m sorry.” His tone was level, controlled, but not without grief. “Please.”

  Dragon’s eyes darted down to the bag as she ripped it open.

  “Shark. Crocodile. Hyena. Vulture…”

  Helmets, one after another. So many more.

  She stopped counting.

  Her voice pitched with disbelief, then dropped, quiet, dark.

  “Bear, what is the meaning of this?”

  Bear straightened. “We were overwhelmed,” he said simply, his voice steady.

  No excuses. No explanations.

  Dragon’s body tensed, her grip tightening around the vulture helmet.

  “I gave you one simple mission,” she said, her voice sharp as a blade. “Bring back the summoned champion. Retrieve the holy crystal.”

  Bear met her gaze without flinching. “We weren’t strong enough,” he said. “That’s the way it is.”

  Dragon’s stare bore into him.

  “I gave you fifty men,” she said, her voice seething. “Eleven of my guards. And you’re telling me you lost?”

  Elephant took a step forward. “A lot happened, Captain. It’s not Bear’s—”

  “DON’T INVOLVE YOURSELF, ELEPHANT!” Dragon snapped, eyes never leaving Bear.

  A beat of silence.

  Then—

  “Where is Wolf?”

  Bear inhaled deeply before answering.

  “He was captured. Or rather…” His jaw tensed. “Because of our surrender, he was given to Sir Niles as—”

  Dragon moved before he could finish. The buckler in her hand slammed into the ground with a metallic crack, the force of it reverberating through the docks.

  “…You abandoned Wolf?”

  The words felt foreign in her mouth, like they didn’t belong there. Like saying them would somehow make them real.

  She clenched her fists.

  “YOU ABANDONED WOLF?!”

  Silence.

  Jackal looked at the ground. Elephant lowered his head. Bear, expression unreadable, knelt.

  “I take full responsibility,” he said.

  One by one, the other Xargian guards dropped to their knees beside him.

  Then a presence heavier than all of them arrived.

  The king.

  He stood at the edge of the docks, watching the scene in silence.

  A quiet word to one of his assistants. Then, the assistant’s voice rang out.

  “We will continue this report at the castle. Immediately.”

  The order was final.

  And as swiftly as he arrived, the king turned on his heel and left, his steps hard, deliberate, fuming.

  The hearing was long and grueling. Every surviving Xargian guard was questioned, one by one. Losing even a single Xargian guard was considered catastrophic—eight had been lost, along with several other skilled soldiers.

  Dragon interrogated them all with ruthless precision, and the king remained close by, his Veritas Gaze ensuring that no deception slipped past him. In the grand hall, his children—Xhiva, Xemena, and Xander—listened in silence, alongside key figures of the kingdom, their expressions unreadable.

  The conclusions drawn from the testimonies were damning.

  Bear’s failure as the mission’s captain had led to unnecessary deaths.

  Niles had deliberately withheld information about the full extent of his skill—a critical oversight.

  And most notably, the global announcement from the day before had, without a doubt, been Niles's doing. He had declared himself a ruler.

  Dragon added another revelation for the homecoming soldiers—by some unknown force, the name “Niceland” had now been magically inscribed on the western part of Monster Island on all maps.

  Then came Bear’s individual hearing.

  The king’s fury was uncontrollable. He roared in rage, sweeping objects off a nearby table, sending them crashing to the ground. The room remained still. No one flinched.

  “I WILL NOT BE MADE A MOCKERY BY THAT MAN!” he thundered.

  Then, a pause.

  Dragon’s voice cut through the silence.

  “It was my mistake,” she admitted. “I should have assigned Elephant as the mission’s captain. I take full responsibility, my king.” Hearing this made Bear… doubt himself even more.

  The king’s jaw tightened.

  “No,” he said, his voice quieter, but no less furious. “That man is too soft.” His knuckles whitened as his fists clenched. “I’ve let this go on for too long. The Xargian Guard’s reputation is in shambles.”

  Dragon turned her gaze fully to the king.

  “My king?” she asked carefully.

  The king exhaled, the breath sharp, controlled.

  “Nevermind” he muttered. Then, with a snap of his fingers, a court assistant rushed to his side. The king leaned in, issuing a low command. The assistant nodded and hurried off.

  “Send in the next,” the king ordered. Then, turning back to Bear, his crimson eyes darkened.

  “We’re not finished with you. Prepare for another hearing later.”

  Bear bowed his head.

  The next soldier entered. A familiar face.

  She strode forward, bowing on one knee, greeting the king and the gathered officials with her hands pressed together.

  Dragon eyed her. “Your name?”

  “Rose,” she said.

  She recounted everything—leaving out only personal details. But it was her final revelation that seized the room’s attention.

  “During the night, someone from Niles’s party approached me. They made us an offer.”

  Silence.

  Rose inhaled. “This person is willing to help us… in exchange for compensation.”

  The king rubbed his well-trimmed beard, his mind already turning.

  “A way in,” he murmured. “We could use it.”

  Rose was excused. She got up, bowed once more, and left the throne room.

  “Xander,” the king began, his tone firm. “Leave us.”

  The eldest prince bowed and exited without a word.

  Only once Xander was gone did the king continue.

  “Xhiva. Any ideas?”

  The corpulent prince grinned, smug and satisfied.

  “Father, of course.” His voice carried an air of theatrical confidence. “Since our dear older brother is too soft and the Xargian Guard too incompetent for this line of work…” He sneered at Dragon but received no reaction. She merely observed him, impassive.

  “I have a plan.”

  The king leaned forward, intrigued.

  “If we can’t break through Niles’s barrier from the outside…” Xhiva’s grin widened. “…then we work from the inside out.”

  He bowed deeply, reveling in his own brilliance.

  The king shrugged. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  Xhiva snapped his fingers.

  The heavy doors creaked open, and a man stepped into the room. His uniform was pristine, military regalia of the highest rank. His red hair, slicked back, made him look every bit the seasoned general. He walked forward with precision, then halted, his stance rigid.

  “I’ve trained him well, Father,” Xhiva gestured toward the man.

  The king’s gaze flicked over to the summoned newcomer, then back to Xhiva. “Go on.”

  “With Roy’s bombardment skill, we’ll activate it from inside the barrier,” Xhiva declared. “And then, we’ll blast that fool Niles off the face of the earth.”

  The king finally smiled.

  “What do you need?”

  Xhiva bowed once more.

  “Thirty men. Five chefs. And a well-stocked pantry for the journey.”

  The king nodded. “I’ll leave it to you.” Then, his voice turned cold. “And don’t fail me like last time.”

  Xhiva’s smirk faltered for half a second before he bowed again. “Noted.”

  With a single clap of his hands, he gave the silent order.

  Roy immediately shifted stance, standing at attention, awaiting further command.

  Meanwhile, Xander walked the halls, lost in thought.

  A brief smile crossed his lips. Well, this is certainly interesting… and alarming.

  “But the fact that there’s a traitor inside Niles’s camp…” His smile faded.

  “I’m not sure what to do with that.”

  With a quiet exhale, he continued down the corridor.

  His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his enormous black blade. “Perhaps some training will clear my thoughts.”

  Back in the chamber, Xemena remained by the wall, arms folded.

  Her mind turned over the situation, her thoughts sharp as knives.

  “I can’t believe that man actually settled on Monster Island.”

  Then, a smirk.

  “Well… I’m sure he’s struggling.”

  Her eyes flicked toward Xhiva and his newly proposed plan.

  “With this, he’s finished.”

  She shrugged, unconcerned.

  A few hours passed before the king summoned Dragon to his throne room.

  “My king,” Dragon said, kneeling before him.

  King Xerxes acknowledged her with a nod before exhaling slowly. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said, his voice calm yet weighted with finality. “The failure at Monster Island was not Bear’s fault.” He paused. “Nor was it yours.”

  Dragon straightened slightly, surprised.

  “It was mine.”

  “My king, that’s not true—”

  He raised a hand, silencing her.

  “I never should have made you captain.”

  The words struck her like a blow to the chest, an unexpected cold creeping through her limbs.

  “For too long, the Guard has been taken too lightly,” the king continued, his tone sharpening. “That ends now. We will return to the old ways.”

  A snap of his fingers.

  The heavy doors swung open. Footsteps echoed—heavy, deliberate, and unmistakably arrogant.

  Entering the room was a aged, towering, battle-worn figure with wrinkles. His muscular frame a testament to countless battles fought and won. His white hair and thick mustache framed a face etched with scars. His right eye was blinded while the other burned with a ruthless hunger for combat.

  He moved with the confidence of a predator.

  “You are no longer the captain of the Xargian Guard,” the king declared. “You are now the vice-captain.”

  Dragon’s breath hitched.

  “My king, please—” She turned to him, urgency in her voice. “Anyone but him.”

  The king shook his head, unmoved. “This was always meant to be.”

  The man approaching wore a steel helmet shaped like a snarling mongoose in his hand like a toy.

  “Mongoose is the new captain of the Xargian Guard,” the king continued. “From now on, you will obey his every command.”

  Dragon clenched her fists at her sides.

  “Don’t do this to my men.”

  The king’s expression darkened.

  “THEY ARE MY MEN, NOT YOURS!” His voice thundered through the chamber.

  Dragon refused to back down. “Then I refuse to serve in the Xargian Guard under his command.”

  The king didn’t answer.

  Instead, Mongoose stepped forward. His presence was suffocating, his tone laced with mockery. “Very well, Dragon. Leave if you wish. But when you’re gone…” He tilted his head, regarding her through his helmet’s narrow eye slits. “I’ll whip them into shape.”

  There was an ugly playfulness in how he emphasized whip.

  His gaze flicked toward her, cruel and calculating. “From what I’ve heard, I’d start with this ‘Elephant.’ Disobedient. Undisciplined.” His voice was a blade, twisting. “I’ll continue what you ruined for me years ago.”

  Dragon’s entire body tensed.

  The king finally spoke again, addressing Mongoose. “Thank you for returning to service.”

  The new captain nodded, bowing just slightly. “Everything for the crown, your majesty. Long live the king.” Then, his voice dropped lower. “And if you truly care about your friends in the Guard, Dragon… you’ll stay.”

  She froze.

  Because he was right. If she left, they’d be at his mercy.

  The meeting was adjourned.

  “Prepare for tomorrow,” the king ordered. “We have important guests from the Golden Bank.” Then, before dismissing her completely, he gave Dragon one last look. “You have served me well. I expect you to serve me well in the future.”

  He turned away.

  And when the king could no longer hear, Mongoose leaned in, his voice a whisper of venom.

  “Typical woman. Can’t control her emotions.”

  Then, with amusement lacing his words, he added, “soldiers are like nails. Any nail that sticks out…” He made a small, deliberate gesture with his hand.

  “…gets hammered down.”

  He left, his boots echoing against the stone.

  Dragon remained standing there, feeling something she hadn’t in a long time.

  Helpless.

  And worse—deeply, terribly afraid for the future of her men in the Xargian guard.