In Lordrixis, the class and wealth of a city were typically defined by its proximity to the kingdom's heart, Haven. The cities situated closer to the center thrived in prosperity, peace, and cheer. In contrast, the outer ring cities languished in obscurity, shrouded in neglect. Shun, however, was well-acquainted with these symbolic outposts—places often abandoned or ignored. While many inhabitants managed to scrape by, their quality of life paled in comparison to that of those in the central regions.
At least he had bid farewell to his previous existence; now, the path before him was wide and bright.
Sila, while small and seemingly insignificant, shared the characteristics of a central city. Its citizens were expected to lead relatively luxurious lives. Yet, as the seven of them strolled through the streets, they were struck by an unsettling phenomenon.
"Where are the people?" Kris muttered, not really expecting an answer. He surveyed the empty, desolate street; although the buildings towered elegantly above them, they exuded a foreboding, almost sinister aura that sent a chill racing down his spine. All the doors and windows were firmly shut, the silence only amplified by the echo of his own voice.
"This situation might be worse than we imagined," Emilia Cylus remarked thoughtfully, her keen insight grasping the ominous reality. "It's not natural for the streets to be this empty and quiet during daylight, even in an emergency."
From the moment they disembarked from the car, Silver had remained by Shun's side, her gaze fixed on the overcast sky. It was unclear whether her focus lay on the current predicament or something deeper.
"Let's just hope for the best and prepare for the worst," Shun said, his voice low yet resonant with the gravity of their situation. The Unfinished had likely already overrun the entire city. "We've wasted enough time; we need to contact Alexander Levison as swiftly as possible."
Nods of silent agreement accompanied their resolve as they quickened their pace toward the castle at the heart of the city. A heavy silence enveloped them, pressing down as they moved through the abandoned streets. Shun remained vigilant, scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger—an ambush could strike at any moment in a city that felt as if it were already dead.
Lost in thoughts about the fate of Sila and Alexander Levison, Joe Moran, the team's scout, suddenly signaled for them to halt. Much like Otto Morphy, Joe had not been selected for high-ranking military training solely due to his combat prowess or mental acuity. His exceptional awareness and tracking skills made him an invaluable asset in specific situations.
Shun found this irony captivating; ethereal arms were designed as weapons for battle, yet they had come to symbolize social status rather than military capability. This was a shift brought about by Vergil Killer, who had made it clear that ethereal abilities were not the sole measures of a person's worth.
The group stood utterly still, each member poised to summon their ethereal arms at a moment's notice. Joe's expression turned cold and concentrated, a stark contrast to his demeanor in the car. After a moment, he relaxed his shoulders and shrugged, "Nah, probably just a cat."
Yet the seriousness etched on his face belied his casual words, signaling that his flippancy was meant to distract any would-be ambushers rather than reassure his comrades.
As anticipated, the instant they feigned relaxation, Shun sensed a chilling presence looming behind him. Silver and Otto reacted with preternatural speed, their ethereal arms drawn as they turned to face the ambushers.
Shun whirled around, bracing for an encounter with enemies. However, what he encountered was far from human. Clad in tattered white fabric, their forms were grotesque and spectral, devoid of features and limbs. They resembled phantoms from fables rather than any living creatures. The sight of these nightmares materializing in reality was far more horrifying than he could have imagined.
Though none of them displayed childish fear, Silver struck first, slicing through the spectral figures with blinding speed, cleaving them in two before they even registered the attack.
Otto engaged the nearest adversaries, wielding a sword in each hand. His movements were more akin to a graceful dance than a brutal fight. Only seasoned warriors could appreciate the artistry in his strikes—each gesture carried meaning, and every muscle showcased his formidable combat skills.
Shun was acutely aware of his own ethereal arm, the Sword of Polarity, which allowed him to create an identical clone to assist in combat. When both the possessor and clone struck a target simultaneously, it theoretically ensured a fatal blow. While formidable, the effectiveness of this ethereal arm relied heavily on personal skill to navigate the intricacies of battle. It was clear that Otto had chosen to hold back, demonstrating only his exceptional swordsmanship and keeping his true might hidden from the enemies.
Rather than wait for protection, Shun summoned The Harvester, which once again radiated an aura that seemed to draw in all existence around it. The moment he unleashed its power, the ghosts vanished in an instant. More astonishing was the effect it had on Silver and Otto's ethereal arms, which appeared to lose their formidable essence, reluctant to display their strength in the presence of something superior.
Silver sighed as she deactivated the Blade of Yin, her expression a mix of frustration and a peculiar satisfaction. Otto, too, sensed the shift within his own ethereal arm, raising an eyebrow as he returned it to his mental storage.
In that moment, Otto realized that Shun wielded more power than he had ever conceived. With such strength, even the King—the first complete ethereal warrior—might find it necessary to show humility. Still, Otto remained steadfast in his belief that an ethereal arm was not the sole determinant of an ethereal warrior's worth. Even in the face of such overwhelming power, he harbored no regrets about opposing Shun.
"That was no fun at all," Silver muttered, returning to Shun's side, her tone laced with a teasing reproach.
"What the hell just happened?" Kris exclaimed, bewildered.
At that moment, Shun was convinced those ghosts were not human but mere summons conjured by an ethereal arm. The more he used The Harvester, the more its abilities unfurled before him. Unlike other ethereal arms, its description revealed nothing about its capabilities; all its potential was left for him to uncover.
Now, he grasped that its power lay in negating the abilities of other ethereal arms, possibly even absorbing them into his own strength. The enigma surrounding The Harvester was disconcerting—it appeared to defy every rule governing ethereal arms. Furthermore, this ability marked him as an adversary to all ethereal warriors, a notion that offered him no comfort.
Yet he maintained his composure, dematerializing The Harvester as he discreetly wiped the invisible sweat from his brow.
"I don't know," he shrugged, feigning ignorance. "They just…disappeared."
No one believed him, but none were bored enough to challenge his assertion.