A fierce storm ruled the world with an eternal roar. The mountains groaned, the trees bent, and snowflakes cut like blades of glass. But even in the midst of that brutal clamor, the silence was immense… so deep it hurt.
At the heart of that cruel stillness, the body of Jiro, the Oni of burning blood, lay frozen.
He had released the undead, sealed the chaos with his soul… and now he was a statue. A statue of pure ice, his body rigid, his skin turned to pale crystal, his horns and eyes, once shining with passion, now just fragments of frost, a frozen prison.
Saria, Kogorō, and Ardan stood watching, paralyzed by terror. It wasn't just fear.
It was a wound in the soul.
Saria took a step forward. Her voice trembled:
—We have to do something… We can't leave him like this...
Both her hands rose with fury, pink flames, alive, desperate. They burned with the force of a promise.
—I'll melt it!
She placed both hands on Jiro's frozen chest. The fire danced, crackled. But...
nothing.
In seconds, the flames vanished as if absorbed by an abyss.
Jiro's body remained the same. Unmoving. Untouched. A frost so fine, so perfect, it couldn't be touched by the heat of life.
Saria tried again, once, twice, three more times...
But her fire wasn't enough.
—Come on, please! Wake up! —she cried out with her soul—. JIRO!
Her hands trembled. Her breath turned to mist among sobs. The fire went out, and with it, her hope.
Ardan walked toward her and placed a hand on her shoulder. His voice was low, nearly defeated:
—Saria… it's useless. The curse of the Hail King can't be melted with magic. Not like this.
She panted. Her red eyes filled with tears, and a few drops fell onto the snow surrounding them like a coffin.
—But… Jiro needs us… this isn't fair… he shouldn't have ended like this… after everything he did… —said Saria, falling to her knees, her coat wrapped around her as her heart shattered—. Not like this!
She collapsed, sunk. The wind struck her, but her pain was even stronger. The snowflakes covered her shoulders, and her cheeks burned red from the cold and sorrow.
Ardan pressed his lips. His face turned grim.
—Saria… this was Jiro's decision from the beginning. He knew what would happen if he exposed himself to the storm without protection. He knew he wouldn't come out unharmed.
There was a cruel silence, and then, like a dry blow, Ardan said:
—We better go. We can't stay here… not for someone frozen.
Saria lifted her face, trembling. Kogorō frowned.
—You damn hypocrite! —roared the spirit.
Kogorō advanced in fury, his ethereal form vibrating.
—Have you already forgotten that Jiro sacrificed himself for you too? So you wouldn't die frozen!
Ardan looked at him with empty eyes.
—So what? Who told him to do it? It was his choice. No one forced him.
—Bastard... —whispered Kogorō.
Ardan walked away, raising his arms.
—We all make our own choices. And just because a decision is noble doesn't mean it will save us from the price. Jiro chose this ending!
The storm wrapped around him. Saria kept crying. The crimson spear was still embedded in Jiro's frozen hand.
Ardan took another step and muttered:
—If you don't want to sink with the captain of a ship going down… then jump for your life. Leave him behind.
His footsteps grew distant.
That's why it's better not to form bonds… —he thought bitterly— That way you don't shatter when someone disappears. I'll defeat the Hail King alone. Then I'll leave this miserable world.
Meanwhile, Saria barely murmured:
—Forgive me… Jiro… forgive me for not being enough to save you…
Kogorō looked down. His ethereal body vibrated with rage and frustration.
—Damn it… this is why I hate bonding with the living. Now I'll be stuck… with this damn seal that binds me to the spear...
He looked at the Higetsu no Yari, the crimson spear resting in Jiro's frozen hand. It seemed asleep… but it wasn't dead.
Then…
A whisper lit up in Jiro's mind.
No... this won't end... unless I will it...
A memory, his mother smiling, his father forging a sword, his grandfather saying Sometimes, pain is part of love.
I'm going to see my family again… together… once more.
CLANG!
The crimson spear began to resonate.
A red, vibrant light burst from within the ice,
Jiro's eyes, frozen but still alive, lit up,
a deep, unstoppable red.
His horns, covered in frost, began to release steam. His body trembled from within… his soul ignited.
Ardan stopped abruptly.
—Jiro...?
Saria stood up, eyes wide in awe.
—It's… it's the crimson spear!
Kogorō stepped back.
—He's awakening… he's freeing himself! But how...?
The ice began to crack.
First one fissure, then another, then another.
The ice shattered, layer by layer, until an explosion of crimson energy burst like a roar from the very heart of Jiro.
—I'M FREEEEEEE!!!
A blast of crimson force soared into the sky, tearing the storm apart,
opening for a moment a dimensional fissure, a crack in the very fabric of the world.
Then it closed.
And there he was.
Jiro.
Standing, steam rising from his skin. His torso bare, yet he didn't feel the cold. A red spiritual energy surrounded him, protecting him.
It was fire, but not physical fire. It was the fire of the soul.
A soul that refused to die frozen by that eternal, ravenous cold.
Ardan ran toward him with wide eyes.
—He's freed himself! He's adapted! The curse… no longer affects him...!
Jiro looked at his hands. The red steam cloaked them like a spiritual mantle.
He had changed.
And then… he looked up, his expression determined, brilliant, blazing like the sun in the middle of a storm.
—Let's go after the Hail King… now!
And the storm seemed to tremble.
As if winter, for the first time… was afraid.
The blizzard still howled, like a furious beast unleashed by the Eternal Winter itself. Snowflakes fell like tiny blades, and the temperature felt so freezing that reality itself seemed to freeze in time. But in the midst of the white chaos... he was still standing.
Jiro, the young Oni, shirtless and wrapped in living crimson energy, breathed slowly as if his soul were in perfect sync with the universe.
The energy flowed through his veins like liquid fire, dancing around his body in undulating strands that clung to the air with a vivid, almost celestial glow.
The whole group watched him, speechless, as the snow evaporated the moment it touched his skin. His body refused to be frozen. His very existence defied the curse of Winter.
Kogorō, the fox spirit, broke the silence with an astonished voice:
—Jiro... I didn't expect that. I thought you'd frozen to death…
The boy slowly lifted his gaze, and in his eyes a crimson glow ignited, powerful and furious. On his cheeks, thin red lines had formed—like mystical brushstrokes—marking him with the essence of some ancient spirit. They resembled the whiskers of a divine feline... wild, pure, and majestic.
—Dead? I refuse to die without completing my mission… Not until I save my world.
His words were fire beneath the snow, thunder among the clouds. The wind seemed to stop, as if listening too.
Meanwhile, Ardan, his gaze fixed, watched with growing unease. His thoughts were a whirlwind:
"That power… how is it possible? This isn't mana… nor spiritual energy… not even Ki… or chakra…"
Then, like a spark in the dark, a word crossed his mind:
"Could it be… Chi Tae energy…?"
The silence within him turned into a roar of doubt. No… that's impossible. To cultivate Chi Tae requires lifetimes, generations of wisdom and body… thousands of years, at least… Jiro is only fifteen…
"It's the purest energy of creation itself! A power only gods and immortal sages have touched! How can this boy… this mortal… wield such power?"
His confusion turned to denial, and his denial to fear. Until a warm hand rested on his shoulder.
—Hey, Ardan… what's wrong? You stressed? —asked Jiro, with a soft smile.
Ardan looked at him for a second and then, faking composure, looked away.
—No… you just surprised me. That's all.
—If you say so… —Jiro replied, turning forward—. But we have to go. There's no time left.
Then, with a radiant glow, he grabbed his crimson spear, which vibrated with the same energy that flowed from his body. He looked at his hands, his chest… the reddish light still danced on him like a sacred flame.
—All this glowing… not a fan. Gonna tone it down a bit. Don't want to draw too much attention.
He closed his eyes, and immediately the energy softened, like a red river slowing its current. It was still there… but more contained. Less noise. More silent war.
—IS HE SHOWING OFF OR WHAT?! —Saria, Kogorō, and Ardan shouted in unison.
Jiro let out a soft laugh.
—At least I'm not freezing… which means that… as long as I have this energy… I'm immune to the frozen curse.
Without another word, he ran toward the white horizon.
—Alright, let's go!
—WAIT FOR US, JIROOO!!! —shouted the group, running after him.
Three days later…
They had walked through the white hell. Hail, fog, frost... the storm seemed intent on swallowing them whole. They lost their way multiple times, nearly froze their limbs, but kept going. Jiro's power carved a path forward. He was their torch in the abyss.
And finally, on the third dawn, they arrived before a colossal gate: a wall of frozen steel, coated in frost and so tall it vanished into the clouds.
Kogorō looked at it with reverence.
—By the look of this gate… this must be the entrance to the Winter of Eden.
—And how are we supposed to climb it? It's way too tall… —said Saria, looking up into the snowy sky.
Ardan, with his serious and handsome face, scarlet horns glowing faintly, reflected.
—We'll have to come up with a plan…
But Jiro, without another word, raised his spear.
—Hold on tight.
—Why? —asked Saria, confused.
—Just do it. Don't let go.
Then, Jiro closed his eyes, gripped the spear… and whispered:
—Extend.
The spear began to grow, stretching as if to touch the very firmament. Everyone screamed as they ascended, wrapped in a vertiginous climb. The crimson energy guided their flight.
When they opened their eyes… they were already on the other side.
Before them lay the Winter of Eden.
Saria spoke first, puzzled:
—I imagined something more… paradise-like. This is just… ice.
A colossal tree of glacial crystal rose in the distance, its branches touching the sky. Everything else was white… a sepulchral silence covered all.
—Maybe if we reach the tree, we'll find the Hail King. —said Jiro.
They advanced for hours, until the tree drew closer… and then they saw it:
A massive castle of ice and glaciers, elegant, silent. Everything seemed… dead.
On the ground: fresh blood. Broken bodies. Frozen heads.
—Dear heavens… they're all dead. —whispered Saria, covering her mouth.
—If you can't look… then don't, girl —said Kogorō gravely.
The deeper they went, the more macabre it became. Frozen bodies standing, as if the cold had trapped them just before they fought. And in the center, the fossil skeleton of a giant dragon, so massive it seemed to have once protected a kingdom.
Around the dragon, kneeling knights, covered in frost. In reverence… to what?
Ardan lifted a finger and pointed with tension:
—There… on its head. A temple.
Saria stepped forward.
—I'll go get the dimensional scroll.
But Jiro stopped her abruptly.
—Watch out, Saria!
A thunderous crash split the sky. A presence fell from the heavens like a comet of ice.
A being in frozen armor, eyes glowing blue-white beneath his helmet. His mere aura froze the wind in midair.
—It's him… —whispered Kogorō—. It's the…
—The Hail King… —said Jiro and Saria, tense.
The Hail King stepped forward. The ground cracked beneath him. The cold intensified.
—You have invaded my domain. You shall be punished with… the frozen hell.
He unleashed his aura.
And in that instant… the whole universe trembled.
At his command, the frozen knights rose… skeletons with frost-forged swords, eyes glowing like dead stars.
The eternal battlefield had begun.