CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: ULTIMATUM

Dawn crept into the sky, casting a cold, pale light over the land. But for the White Wolf Clan soldiers stationed at the mansion gates, the rising sun brought no comfort. They stood tense and vigilant, eyes scanning the forest beyond the barrier. The Spirit Princess remained out there, still, silent, and simmering with rage.

The barrier protecting the mansion shimmered faintly, still holding but weakened. It had taken brutal hits throughout the night, and its endurance was faltering. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened. Until then, the soldiers would wait. Silent, loyal, and ready for whatever order came next.

Under Lord Shinji’s strict command, not a single blade was to be raised against her. Not yet. Not unless there was no other choice.

Inside the mansion, the atmosphere was equally tense.

In a grand room filled with rare and priceless decor, each piece worth more than entire villages, five figures sat at a circular table. Shinji. Kazuo. Milla. And two of the Clan’s elite Captains.

Logg was a towering, bald mountain of a man, his skin darkened by years beneath the sun and carved through with old scars. A wolf skull tattoo sprawled across his scalp, its bone-white lines stretching from crown to temple, the jaws flaring down toward his brow as though the beast itself had been flayed and claimed. It did not sit upon his skin—it claimed it.

His exposed left arm bore the White Wolf insignia in stark white ink, bold and unmistakable. Together, the markings marked him as something more than a warrior: a living banner of the clan’s brutality. He radiated brute strength and a wild, untamed presence, like a beast that had learned to walk upright but never forgot its nature.

Beside him sat Shigure, his opposite in almost every way. Pale-skinned and slender, Shigure possessed a frame that favoured grace over brute strength. He moved with an almost elegant restraint, posture composed rather than imposing, as though every motion was measured before it ever reached his body. Long greyish-violet hair fell loosely around his face, soft and unbound, curtaining one ocean-blue eye while an eyepatch concealed the other.

His features were fine—almost androgynous in their delicacy—but there was nothing fragile about him. Where Logg radiated raw dominance, Shigure exuded quiet precision: a cool, disciplined presence that did not need to announce itself to be felt.

The White Wolf tattoo marked the side of his neck, subtle but unmistakable. It sat there like a seal rather than a banner—a quiet reminder that beneath his refined appearance stood a captain who had survived long enough to earn his rank, and killed cleanly enough to keep it.

“Forgive my bluntness, Lord Shinji,” Logg rumbled, voice low and raw with frustration. “But dawn is already upon us, and we’re still circling the same damned discussion. That Spirit out there? She’s going to kill us all if we don’t act! So tell us—what’s your plan?”

“Logg, you could try not sounding like a barbarian in front of His Lordship,” Shigure chided smoothly, adjusting his gloves.

“Oh hush, you uptight peacock. You’re thinking the same thing. Don’t try to make me the villain here!”

“That’s enough.” Milla stood, her calm voice slicing through the tension. “Gentlemen, take a breath. Focus. We’re not enemies here.”

She turned to Shinji with a soft, weary sigh. “What Logg said is true. Time is slipping away. But we all know this isn’t an easy decision for His Lordship.”

Shigure raised a hand politely. “If I may?”

Shinji gave a tired nod.

“I pledged my life to you and the Clan, My Lord,” Shigure said, voice steady. “I understand the Spirit Princess is your Chosen Apprentice. But right now, she poses a clear threat to you and to us all. Isn’t it our duty to eliminate any danger to your life, no matter who it is?”

Kazuo slammed a fist on the table. “What the hell are ye sayin’, ya lace-collared bastard! Are you even listening?!”

“I am,” Shigure replied, unflinching. “But I serve our Lord, not my emotions. If any member of the Clan betrayed him, we’d hunt them to the ends of the earth. That includes her. Her title doesn’t exempt her from the laws of loyalty.”

He crossed his arms. “Unless someone here has a better solution.”

Kazuo clenched his jaw. He wanted to punch him. But deep down, he knew Shigure was only doing his duty. Cold as it was, the man wasn’t wrong. Still, that didn’t make it right.

There had to be another way.

Kazuo turned to Shinji, eyes blazing.
“Oi, Shinji. I’ve been holdin’ my tongue for a long time now. But enough is enough. I need answers. What’s that brat meant when he said you should’ve done something in the first place? If you still think of me as a friend, don’t lie.”

The room fell into silence. Heavy. Expectant.

Shinji looked at Kazuo, the man who had stood by him through it all. His oldest companion.

“…What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Especially about that bracelet. What you did to Mika.”

Shinji exhaled slowly. Then, with quiet resolve, he placed his palm on the table.

“The jade bracelet I gave Mika contains a binding spell, meant to suppress her Spirit when it starts to overwhelm her. It’s called the Soul Binding Spell.”

“But,” Shinji continued, green light blooming from his fingertips, “the version I cast wasn’t like the others you’ve seen. It’s a unique variation that doesn’t erase or purify her Spirit, but anchors it. Helps her control it, rather than be consumed by it.”

He glanced at his palm, as if the light itself carried his memories.

“My mother was the previous Lady of the White Wolf Clan. She came from a royal bloodline in the far South. Her grandfather was a runaway prince who gave up the throne and built this Clan with the Spirit woman he loved. That woman, my great-great-grandmother, was a Spirit.”

Kazuo blinked. Hard.

If a pin dropped, the whole room would have heard it.

“You’re a SPIRIT?!”

“A quarter Spirit,” Shinji clarified. “The blood is diluted through generations. But yes. That’s how I’m able to create barriers. Heal wounds. Use Spirit energy.”

Kazuo looked around in disbelief. Milla tried to hide her smile behind her hand. Shigure and Logg both turned away, fake coughing to cover their snorts.

Kazuo spluttered. “Wh-what about Suzumi? Don’t tell me she’s got powers too?!”

“She has psychic abilities, telekinesis and mind-reading,” Shigure said helpfully. “Her blood is often used to make Clan medicines.”

“And me,” Milla shrugged. “I’m from the branch family. No powers. But I make up for it with skills.”

Kazuo groaned. “No wonder that bloody kitchen knife nearly killed me last year…”

Shinji smirked. “Be thankful she doesn’t cook for you. Anyway, because my Spirit blood is weak, my powers are limited. I had to train endlessly to control them. But I did everything with caution. The bracelet doesn’t harm Mika. It helps her. I would never endanger her.”

Milla refilled her cup and asked quietly, “So… what now? She’s still out there.”

Shinji stared at his own empty cup. His voice dropped.

“Five years. I waited five years for her to come back. After what happened… I thought we’d meet again under different circumstances. But when she finally returned, she was broken. Lost. I couldn’t take more from her than what the world already had.”

He looked up at the others. Exhausted. Resolute.

“I brought her here to seal the Red Line. But more than that… I wanted to bring her home.”

“You’re letting her go?” Milla’s voice was hushed.

“If it’s not with me, then the least I can do is return her to wherever she truly belongs. But… if the only way to free her is death… then so be it.”

“What the bloody hell are ye saying?!”

Kazuo shot to his feet. Logg and Shigure followed.

Shinji closed his eyes, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. And then, in a voice both hollow and commanding, he spoke.

“Prepare for battle.”

***

While the mansion thrummed with battle preparations, the air heavy with tension and anticipation, one man had quietly slipped away.

Guy stood alone at the far edge of the estate, behind the mansion where no guards patrolled. Where it was quieter. Quieter than his own thoughts. His boots crunched softly against the gravel path as he approached the edge of the barrier, a shimmering, nearly invisible wall of green light that separated them from her.

From Mika.

He could not see her beyond the trees. But he could feel her.

The fury. The despair. The loneliness. And the threat that, at any moment, she might lose herself completely.

Guy’s throat burned as he clenched his fists. His jaw trembled. He was not supposed to be here. He was not supposed to hear that meeting. But he had. Hidden around the corner, too afraid to interrupt, too crushed to speak.

He had heard Shinji’s voice.

He had heard the words, “If her only salvation is to die, then so be it.”

And that… that broke something inside him. His legs gave out beneath him. He fell to his knees, fists pressing into the soil.

“Damn it,” he choked. “There has to be another way.”

That was when something slipped from his pocket. A flash of gold.

A bracelet.

Simple. Unassuming. The kind of thing you would find on a vendor’s cloth stall in Eden. But it had caught his eye, its engraving delicate, its gold warm. He had bought it without thinking, planning to give it to her later. To apologise. For the cruel words. For doubting her. For not protecting her like he should have.

He had meant to give it with a smile.

Now, all he had were tears.

Guy picked it up and stared at it. His fingers trembled as he traced the curve of the metal, still faintly warm from his body. Or maybe from something else.

A memory surfaced.

“The bracelet helps Mika control the Spirits… it calms her. Anchors her.”

Shinji’s words echoed in his skull. Something about spells. Spirit blood. Emotional resonance.

Guy’s gaze slowly lifted to the barrier, still humming, alive with faint streaks of light.

Would it hurt? Would it kill him?

He rose to his feet.

“I’m not leaving her alone,” Guy whispered, clutching the bracelet to his chest. “Not this time.”

He took a step forward.

The barrier shimmered, pulsing faintly as he approached. Energy licked the ground, dancing in the air like warning sparks.

Guy stretched out a hand. Everyone had said it would burn. Shock. Destroy. But the moment his fingers reached the light, nothing happened. It gave way.

Gentle. Almost welcoming.

A ripple spread outward, like a soft breath sighing against his skin.

Guy stepped through.

There was no pain or resistance.

The barrier recognised him. Or more accurately, it recognised what he carried.

The memory. The intent.

The connection.

The bracelet glowed faintly, pulsing in sync with the barrier’s light. It was not enchanted, but it meant something. And that was enough.

Guy crossed the threshold and walked straight into the forest.

***

The battle preparations were complete.

Two frontline units, sixty soldiers in total, stood poised at the mansion’s main gates. They were led by Captains Shigure and Logg, who calmly scanned the clearing ahead, waiting for the final order.

At the rear, Shinji and his elite team stood ready.

“So the time has come to do this,” Milla murmured. Her voice held both resolve and regret.

She cast one last glance over her shoulder, where a man stood restrained, guarded by two soldiers.

Kazuo.

His wrists were chained, the price of lashing out during the war meeting earlier. Milla had advised him not to come, but the man had refused.

“Torturing yourself like this isn’t going to help,” Milla said as she walked toward him, gesturing for the guards to give them space.

She leaned down and whispered words meant for his ears alone. Then she gave his shoulder a soft pat and walked away, leaving the man speechless, her words ringing louder than the drums of war.

Meanwhile, Shinji was in the midst of a last-minute briefing with his officers when a pair of guards sprinted toward them.

“My Lord!” one shouted. “A man’s been spotted crossing the southern barrier!”

Kazuo’s head snapped up. “That’s impossible! He should’ve been electrocuted!” he yelled in disbelief.

Shinji felt his chest tighten.

“Where’s Guy?” he asked the nearest soldier. “Has anyone seen him?”

As if summoned, a desperate voice rose above the crowd. “Help! Please, my brother’s missing!”

Tears streaked Luna’s face as she pushed her way forward. “He’s not in his room, he’s not anywhere! I… I told him to get some air after breakfast, but he never came back!”

Milla rushed to steady her. “How long ago was this?”

“This morning!” Luna cried. “I’ve searched everywhere, he’s gone!”

Before Milla could respond, a soldier pointed toward the field.

“Over there! Look!”

All eyes turned.

A lone figure had stepped into view. Dressed in a simple white shirt and loose trousers, a long spear in one hand, he moved calmly across the grass beyond the barrier.

“GUY!”

“BROTHER!” Luna screamed, but Shigure caught her by the arm before she could charge forward.

“Unless you want to be fried, be my guest,” he said coldly, his one visible eye hard as stone.

“Deactivate the barrier!” Shinji ordered. “I’m going out!”

Several guards rushed to block his path. “You mustn’t, Milord! It’s too risky—”

They never finished the warning. With a guttural yell, Kazuo lunged from the side, chains clinking from his wrists, ramming full force into the line of guards like a battering ram.

One man went flying. Another staggered as Kazuo shoulder-checked him with bone-rattling force.

The rest scattered before the living freight train that barrelled through them.

Milla, already steps ahead, had slipped him a pocket knife minutes ago. Just enough to break his chains. She said nothing then. She did not need to.

“Seriously?” Shinji clicked his tongue.

“What? They weren’t listening.” Kazuo gave him a wolfish grin. The rest of the stunned guards did not argue.

Milla’s voice rang out. “Drop the barrier. Now.”

The Captain in charge snapped out of his daze, slammed the control lever, and the barrier fizzled out with a shuddering hum.

Kazuo cracked his knuckles. Without another word, he and Shinji sprinted across the field toward the lone figure ahead.

***

Guy stood firm, his feet rooted in the earth. His usually warm brown eyes glimmered faintly with orange as he stared into the darkness beyond the thickets.

A low growl echoed from the shadows.

Oddly enough, he was not afraid. Not like yesterday. Then, fear had shaken him to his core as the Spirit Princess stormed the mansion.

But now, a strange calm settled over him.

A hiss cut through the silence, sharp and feral. The underbrush rustled. From within it, a silhouette emerged. Slow. Deliberate. Monstrous.

Guy did not move. The shadow stepped into the light.

Mika.

Her long, dishevelled crimson hair framed a feral face. Her claws gleamed. Fangs peeked beneath twisted lips stretched into a psychotic grin. Gone was the sweet smile. Gone was the kind voice. Gone was the girl he remembered.

Yet still, he saw her.

Not far behind him, Shinji and Kazuo arrived and froze. The Spirit Princess had emerged in full.

Neither man dared to breathe too loudly.

Shinji narrowed his eyes. He studied her with the cold discipline of a seasoned warrior. Beside him, Kazuo trembled, his grip white-knuckled on the chained sickle. He noticed this and said nothing. The fear was human. Understandable. Even he could feel it, a faint chill gnawing at his spine.

Kazuo carefully lifted one foot to move forward.

No response. Good.

He shifted his weight and tried the other.

A boot blocked his path.

Shinji. He shook his head once.

Kazuo slowly retreated his foot.

Mika turned to look at them. Her head twitched unnaturally, like a serpent tasting the air. Her gaze landed on them, curious and gleeful.

“Mika.” Guy smiled softly, sadly.

“In our language,” he said gently, “your name means ‘beautiful aroma.’ I’m not sure what it means in the Spirit tongue, but I believe it must be just as beautiful.” He pulled something from his pocket.

The bracelet.

“I bought this for you, back in Eden. I meant to give it to you… But I forgot. Typical of me.” Guy’s smile wavered. “I thought it might make you happy. You’ve seemed down lately and I missed your smile. That sweet smile you tend to forget you have.”

Mika’s lips curled into a snarl. Her eyes narrowed and claws twitched.

“I know you’re still in there,” Guy pressed. “I know you can hear me. You’re strong, Mika. So strong. And I’m very proud of you. So please… come back to us. To me.”

The growl that answered was feral. Mika raised her hand, razor-sharp claws poised to strike. Before she could move, a steel chain snapped around her wrist.

“Guy! Get back!” Kazuo yelled, anchoring the chain with both hands. He braced himself as Mika thrashed violently.

“GUY!” Kazuo roared. “MOVE YOUR DAMN ASS!”

But Guy didn’t. Instead, he ran toward her. He grabbed her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes.

“Mika! Please, listen to me. Come back!”

In one clean swipe, she slashed across his cheek. Blood gushed as he fell, groaning, clutching his face.

“Guy!” Kazuo shouted, the chain jerking dangerously as the Spirit thrashed and bared her fangs.

Shinji lunged. Two shots rang out, aimed at her legs.

Mika flipped, airborne in a perfect arc, and landed like a dancer. Unharmed. With a guttural snarl, she bit into the chain.

“What the—”

Kazuo barely reacted before her claws collided with his face, sending him tumbling. A kick followed, hard into his stomach. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, his body skidding across the dirt.

Shinji grabbed Guy and yanked him up. “We’re leaving!”

Guy dug his heels in.

“Wait, Shinji! Listen to me!” His voice was desperate. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think we can still reach her.”

Shinji looked ready to snap. “Kazuo’s risking his life over there!”

“I KNOW!” Guy shouted back. “But I need you to believe me. She’s still in there, Shinji. I know she is. And I know you want to save her too!”

“I don’t—”

“STOP LYING!” Guy cut in. “I saw you. I heard you. You act cold, but your eyes always gave it away.”

Shinji froze. His expression cracked.

He exhaled heavily, torn.

“I’d choose Mika in a heartbeat,” Shinji admitted. “But I can’t. The Clan, they’ll have to come first. If we don’t stop her—”

“There’s another way,” Guy insisted. “Through us. Through our voices. She’s fighting this. All she needs is a reason to come back. Let’s be that reason.”

A long pause followed.

“…Fine,” Shinji said quietly. “You win. What’s the plan?”

***

Kazuo rolled sideways, barely dodging another deadly punch. He raised his damaged sickle like a shield. Sweat poured down his face. Cuts bled freely. One arm hung limp, bitten and poisoned.

“Shit,” he muttered as pain flared with every breath. His vision blurred. His thoughts fogged. Mika was still coming and he had nowhere left to run.

Her grip closed around his throat.

This was not how he had pictured the sweet Princess wrapping her hands around his neck. Not even close.

Kazuo groaned, vision swimming. No matter how much strength he had left, after everything, he could not pry her fingers away. Mika’s bloodthirsty gaze locked onto his, twisted with sadistic pleasure that made his stomach churn.

Then something snapped.

Kazuo’s eyes darted to her fingers. The grip loosened slightly.

Mika’s expression shifted. The cruel delight faltered, giving way to confusion. Her eyes trembled.

That wasn’t malice.

That was regret.

Guy’s words echoed in Kazuo’s mind: I know even in this current state that you can hear me…

A slow, crooked grin tugged at Kazuo’s lips.

“You’re not alone, Princess,” Kazuo rasped. “We’re right behind you. So don’t be afraid to come back. Come back to us. Where you belong.”

Another snap. More fingers bent out of place. Her right hand twitched, wavering between obedience and rebellion.

“Come on,” Kazuo wheezed. “You’re stronger than this. Fight it!”

A force yanked her backward. Kazuo crashed to the ground.

Footsteps thundered toward him.

Shinji raised his pistol instinctively. Guy dropped beside Kazuo, checking his wounds.

“You alright?” Shinji asked.

Kazuo coughed. “You look damn pretty from down here.”

Guy winced. “He’s concussed. We need to get him out of here.”

Shinji nodded sharply. “Shigure. Logg.”

The two Captains appeared instantly.

“Take him back to the mansion. Get Milla to check him over.”

Logg hoisted Kazuo onto his shoulder without hesitation. The injured man groaned.

“I’ll leave Milord to your care,” Logg muttered.

“Understood,” Shigure replied, turning to Shinji. “What’s the plan for her?”

“She hesitated while choking Kazuo. That means her Spirit is losing control. Her body’s starting to reject it.”

Guy frowned. “So what now?”

“We wear her out.”

“As you wish,” Shigure vanished.

A second later, he reappeared behind Mika, halberd sweeping in a surprise strike. Mika barely dodged. Guy joined the assault, taking turns with Shigure to keep her off balance.

Shinji approached steadily, purple eyes fixed on her. She was weakening. He could see it. Feel it. Even now, her movements were losing precision. The body was failing the Spirit within.

With a silent prayer, he stepped into the fray.

Mika dropped to her knees, clutching her head. Shigure hovered behind her, weapon raised, but did not strike.

Shinji knelt before her and slowly placed a hand on her head.

Mika tensed. A growl tore from her throat.

Shinji murmured ancient words under his breath. The spell pulsed from his hands, flowing through her trembling form.

***

Night fell. And with it, silence.

The mansion’s usual noise was gone.

Orders. Laughter. Steel on steel.

All replaced by exhaustion. Even those untouched by the battle had felt it. The fear. The tension.

One wrong move, and any of them could have died. Their Lord returned carrying the Spirit they had feared most now unconscious.

Guy limped beside him while Shigure followed close behind them.

The barrier was lowered. Guards sighed in visible relief as they moved to assist without a word.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Soft. Measured. They stopped at a door where faint crying could be heard.

Milla paused, hand hovering over the knob. Inside, Luna sobbed into a pillow while her brother whispered softly, stroking her hair.

At the foot of the bed, Kazuo sat bandaged head to toe, red-eyed and miserable.

And on the bed lay Mika.

Still. Pale. A damp cloth on her forehead. Her scarlet hair fanned out above her shoulders.

Shinji sat at her side, one hand resting on her wrist, counting each fragile beat.

No one spoke or moved.

They waited.

For a miracle.

For her.