Zephyr didn’t hesitate. With a powerful surge of aura, he accelerated again, aiming not for the towering Mistborn titan currently locked in combat with the Baron, but for the swarm of lower-rank Mistborns that constantly surged around its legs.
These lesser fiends, though individually weak, were a persistent nuisance, trying to distract the Baron with their desperate lunges or land superficial cuts to wear him down. Zephyr was sure the Baron could end the Alpha on his own if not for their relentless interventions.
He moved like a monster himself, his blade a blur. One Mistborn dissolved mid-lunge, its vortex-head severed before it could scream. Another lost its legs to a sweeping cut, its form crumbling into mist. A third barely registered his approach before his saber punched through its head.
The Baron’s exhale was half-laugh, half-relief as he felt the pressure ease. From the corner of his eye, he caught Zephyr’s movements - precise, ruthless, efficient.
He’d suspected him to be talented, but this was something else. Zephyr fought like a veteran twice his age, his instincts sharp enough to read the battlefield at a glance.
And that decision to clear the distractions rather than join the direct assault showed a tactical mind that bordered on terrifying.
Monster, the Baron thought in admiration.
And with the lesser threats thinning, the Baron finally had room to breathe.
His grip on Duskpiercer tightened. The spear’s flames roared higher, casting flickering light across the snow.
Then I’ll do my part.
Baron thought, his gaze hardening as he fixed on the towering Mistborn, his expression calm despite the raging storm and the colossal threat before him.
The towering Mistborn moved with unexpected grace for its size, its massive form weaving through the blizzard like a predator. Unlike its nearly mindless brethren, its hollow eyes gleamed with cruel intelligence.
The Baron feinted left, but the creature didn’t bite.
It countered with a sweeping claw, forcing the Baron to roll backward as ice shards erupted where he’d stood. Snow melted instantly where Duskpiercer’s flames licked the ground, steam hissing between them.
The Alpha was adapting.
It anticipated the Baron’s next thrust, twisting its torso to avoid the spear’s tip. A claw of condensed mist slammed into the Baron’s side, sending him skidding through the snow.
Zephyr, still cutting through the last of the lesser Mistborns, tensed, but the Baron was already rising, his grin fiercer.
"Good," he muttered. "Finally a challenge."
The Alpha charged, its weight shaking the earth. The Baron stood his ground until the last possible second.
Duskpiercer’s flames condensed, the spear becoming a blinding line of white-hot fire.
The Baron thrust forward, and the Duskpiercer pierced clean through the Alpha’s chest, erasing half its torso in an instant.
The creature staggered, its remaining half dissolving into embers and mist.
The remaining lesser Mistborn let out piercing screeches, their forms dissolving into the blizzard as they fled in all directions. The battlefield fell eerily quiet, save for the wind’s mournful howl.
The Baron turned to Zephyr, wiping soot from his brow. "Good job," he said, genuine approval in his voice.
Zephyr nodded calmly, his eyes scanning their surroundings.
"Where’s Lumin?" the Baron asked, glancing toward the sealed anchor chamber. "Should we retrieve him?"
After a brief pause, Zephyr shook his head. "No. He’ll stay here. Someone needs to monitor the controllers... and update us if the core’s location shifts."
The Baron studied him for a moment, then grunted in agreement. "Let’s go then. It already knows we’re coming - it’ll either flee or prepare another warm welcome."
As they moved through the swirling snow, Zephyr’s mind raced.
Did the other units receive the signals?
If so, the second phase was complete - the Lament Shroud was weakened, its lieutenants dealt with, and its core consciousness located. They only needed to confront the creature head-on.
His grip tightened on his saber at the thought.
The creature they hunted was no ordinary foe. To command so many Alphas... it had to be at least an Elder beast. There was even a chance it could rival an Overlord if it could fully leverage the blizzard as its power source.
But the Baron’s flames still burned bright ahead of him, cutting a path through the storm.
"Stay sharp," the Baron murmured, his spear glowing like a beacon in the white dark.
Zephyr followed silently, his senses stretched to their limits.
Somewhere in this white expanse, the Lament Shroud waited.
A few minutes earlier, inside the anchor chamber...
Lumin had been a half-step behind Zephyr, ready to follow through the portal, when his senses screamed at him to move.
He threw himself backward and to the right just as jagged ice shards erupted from the portal’s surface, embedding themselves in the stone wall where he had been.
The portal itself flickered violently, its shimmering surface collapsing inward before winking out of existence entirely.
He didn’t need to see what happened outside; he immediately understood. Zephyr must have been attacked, caught off guard, and losing control of the portal, he had been forced to shut it down.
A wry smile touched his lips.
Well, this is actually good.
He couldn’t fight properly right now, not without risking his carefully maintained identity. And this isolation served his other agenda perfectly.
Just then, faint but undeniably clear whispers drifted into his mind, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once:
"....you are... a hero..."
Lumin chuckled inwardly (Guess I was wrong about being alone) while outwardly furrowing his brows.
"Who’s there?" he demanded, spinning around—
Two spiraling black eyes hovered inches from his face.
Paralysis trapped his limbs and mind.
The whispers returned, growing clearer each time.
"Soooon... sooon... soon... son..."
The chamber melted away.
The obsidian walls became the familiar walls of Eclipse Keep’s family quarters. Snow outside the window. The scent of pine and hearthfire.
A shadowy figure coalesced before him, its form gaining warmth and color as it leaned down to pat his head.
"Don’t play too much and return soon, ok sweetie?"
Lumin’s—no, Aman’s—breath hitched.
Standing before him was his mother.
Not Lady Luthaire as she was now, broken by grief, but as she must have been a decade ago: eyes bright, smile gentle, her hand warm against his hair.