Kujima moved with effortless agility, leaping three, then four times before landing on the frozen ground. The mist swirled thick around him, concealing the shifting landscape. Somewhere behind him, Judd was lost in the fog, but Kujima didn't care. He hadn't come for Judd—he had come to forge his own variant.
The air was heavy with an eerie stillness as he pressed forward, each step sinking into the frost-covered earth. The further he walked, the denser the fog became, swallowing all visibility. Then, with one final step, the mist abruptly parted like a curtain, revealing a new expanse ahead.
The fog lay entirely behind him now. He stood atop a hill, gazing down at the island. Steep cliffs bordered its edges, shrouded in a perpetual haze. The land itself was hollow, crater-shaped, as though the island had been carved from the world by an ancient force.
His eyes were immediately drawn to the massive cathedral at its center—a monolith of dark stone that loomed over everything else. Without hesitation, he made his way down. The descent was steep, nearly fifty meters. Kujima uncoiled a rope, securing it to a sturdy rock before lowering himself carefully.
As he reached the ground, the cold intensified. This was no ordinary chill—it was unnatural, an artificial frost that bit deep into his bones. Each step forward only made the sensation worse. He walked for nearly a kilometer before his path was blocked.
A towering wall of ice stood before him, massive and unyielding. There was no way around it—the terrain was treacherous. If he wanted to move forward, he would have to carve his own path.
Kujima exhaled, bringing his hands to chest level. His palms pressed together.
"Isaak!" he commanded.
Beneath him, the snow melted instantly, revealing a glowing blue magic circle. His left hand remained still while his right reached into the light. From within the circle, he pulled forth a sword—not of steel, but of pure energy, its surface shimmering with radiant blue light. This was no ordinary blade. This was magic itself, shaped into a weapon.
With his left hand, he drew a steel sword from its scabbard. Now wielding twin blades, he moved without hesitation, slashing at the ice. Each strike sent thunderous cracks echoing through the land. The frozen wall trembled—then shattered.
The silence that followed was deafening.
And then, the ground trembled.
A deep, guttural growl reverberated through the air, an ancient sound that sent a chill racing down Kujima's spine. From within the broken ice, something stirred.
Then, it moved.
A monstrous bear, colossal in size, burst from its frozen prison. Its fur was thick with frost, patches of ice still clinging to its claws and face. Its breath came in clouds of mist, its eyes burning with an unnatural blue glow.
Kujima stepped back, swords raised. He had known there would be consequences for breaking the ice, but he hadn't expected this.
The beast lunged.
Kujima barely had time to react as the bear's massive claws came crashing down. He dodged, but the sheer force of the attack sent waves of snow flying, throwing him off balance. The beast was relentless, each strike a brutal display of power. Kujima fought back with swift counterattacks, but every clash left his hands numb from the impact. The bear was too strong—its hide as impenetrable as iron.
A sudden movement. The bear lunged, its jaws wide open, aiming for Kujima's throat.
There was nowhere to run.
He had carved his way through the ice, but now, he was trapped. Behind him, the path stretched back a kilometer to a sheer cliff wall. No escape.
He clenched his jaw. "I will die here."
The air around him felt heavier, charged with an unseen force. He had felt it the moment he stepped onto the island—an oppressive weight, a silent warning. If he used a variant here, he would pay the price.
But he no longer had a choice.
"I don't care," he whispered. "I am King Kujima. I command the gods."
He let his steel sword fall to the snow. Raising his hands to his chest, he moved as if unlocking something unseen.
"Isaak, I swear to you—this is the first and last time I will use this variant. You are my only god, which proves that you are the strongest. Thank you."
Isaak had given him these words long ago, a prayer meant to awaken true power.
"God Variant—Isaak!"
The energy sword in his grasp expanded, its blade widening as a deep red glow flickered through his irises. His body felt lighter, his movements sharper. Power surged through him.
He struck.
The sword blurred as it cut through the air, moving with such speed that even the bear had to react. The beast blocked with its massive paw, parrying the attack effortlessly. Kujima pressed forward, his strikes relentless, his technique flawless. This was a sacred form, a technique passed down by the Harden kings.
Slashing.
The blade met the bear's hide—but did nothing. No wound. No mark. As if the creature's flesh was forged from something beyond mortal comprehension.
Kujima's breath hitched.
Who had created this beast?
Who could forge something stronger than a god?
The bear lunged again.
Kujima found himself staring into its glowing blue eyes, a vast abyss of power and hunger.
In that moment, he felt it.
Death.