But they were immediately held off by the beasts that Moon commanded. The Hydra, and hound rushed to meet them, alongside the other eight beasts.

In the chaos, Moon’s sword carved a deep line across its chest, purple lightning flooding the wound. The spirit staggered backward, clutching the gash, its eyes wide with pain and fury.

Before it could recover, Moon sent [Ignite] and a bolt of lightning towards the spirit. The spirit screamed in pain, falling to the ground.

Moon leapt forward and drove his sword through the spirit’s throat.

[You have killed the Level 42 2-Star Elder Spirit]

[You have gained 380 Lives]

The hydra crashed into the spirit frontline, all four heads striking simultaneously, scattering the defenders. The Fire Hound flanked left, igniting everything in its path with concentrated bursts of flame that forced the spirits to choose between fighting and burning.

The five First Star beasts flooded through the gaps, engaging whatever the larger beasts missed.

His beasts held their ground against the weaker spirits, but the stronger ones bypassed the chaos entirely and converged on Moon. They knew that by killing the master, the mindless beasts will flee.

Ten Second Star spirits formed a circle around Moon and Mirage, their weapons drawn, their diamonds glowing bright.

These were the pavilion’s core fighters, and every one of them radiated an aura that made the air inside the courtyard feel heavier.

Second Star spirits were stronger than Second Star humans. Moon knew that. He didn’t dare underestimate their numbers.

So he summoned his beast soul.

The Fire and Nature spirit materialized beside him, its burning roots and luscious vines flaring to life. Moon sat atop Mirage at the center of the encirclement, his sword crackling with purple lightning, his beast soul hovering at his flank.

He was surrounded, and outnumbered by the spirits. But rather than being afraid, Moon grinned.

This was a real challenge. This was raw combat against superior numbers, and if he pushed himself hard enough, fought long enough, he might gain something from it.

Perhaps another comprehension. Another skill born from the fire of battle, just like Battle Instinct.

"Bring it on!" He leapt off Mirage.

The ten spirits attacked simultaneously.

Moon met the first blade with his own, deflecting it into the path of a second attacker. Mirage’s eye flared purple and the doppelganger split from his body, both horses surging in opposite directions.

What followed was a display of horsemanship and combat that the spirits had never encountered.

The two Mirages wove through the encirclement like dancers. They swapped positions constantly, trading places mid-stride so seamlessly that the spirits couldn’t tell which was real and which was the fake. A spirit would lunge at Mirage, only for the doppelganger to intercept with a devastating kick. Another would target the doppelganger, committing to a killing blow, only to find out that it was Mirage.

The true genius was in how Mirage used the skill now. He had grown more proficient with every battle. The doppelganger no longer served as a simple decoy. Mirage positioned himself to absorb the hits, letting his real body take the damage while the doppelganger delivered the punishment. Practically doubling his combat output without sacrificing his phantom’s existence.

Whenever the doppelganger did fall, Mirage reformed it within seconds. And whenever a wound accumulated on the real Mirage, Moon cast Minor Mend between his own clashes, keeping the horse in fighting condition.

Two Mirages on the battlefield at all times. One to take the hits. One to deal them. An endless cycle that the spirits couldn’t crack.

Moon fought at the center of it all, his sword and lightning working in tandem against any spirit that broke through the horse screen. The Fire and Nature spirit anchored one side of the formation, its burning vines catching blades and its nature half raising barriers that bought Moon precious seconds between exchanges.

At the same time, on the far side of the courtyard, the Hydra was locked in single combat against a powerful Second Star spirit.

It was a known fact across the Sanctuary that spirits were among the strongest races at equivalent ranks. Their combat intelligence, their speed, their ability to wield spiritual energy that most beasts couldn’t match made them superior opponents in nearly every scenario.

Yet the Hydra was keeping up.

Its four heads worked in concert, two attacking while two defended, rotating seamlessly between offense and defense. The spirit’s blade found scales more often than flesh, and every time it created an opening, a different head was already moving to close it.

The fight was brutal, loud, and dead even.

’Mark of Omen is really useful.’ Moon thought, glancing at the Hydra between his own exchanges. The combat boost he had branded onto it was the difference between losing and holding ground. Without it, the Hydra would have been overwhelmed minutes ago.

Unfortunately, the skill could only be applied to a single cursed subordinate at a time.

The Fire Hound was managing without it. It fought against multiple peak First Star spirits simultaneously, using its flames to create distance whenever they pressed too close, its claws finding purchase when they over committed. It was holding, but just barely. Each exchange left new cuts along its flanks that slowed it down incrementally.

The remaining First Star beasts were faring worse. Two had already fallen.

What kept them going was Moon.

Between every sword clash, between every bolt of lightning, he cast Minor Mend. A pulse of healing toward the Hound when its leg buckled. Another toward a First Star beast that took a blade across its spine. A third toward Mirage when a spirit’s strike slipped past the doppelganger.

He was fighting ten Second Star spirits, commanding his beasts, and healing his entire army simultaneously.

’Why hasn’t the pavilion spirit come out yet?’

Moon grinned mid-swing, deflecting a blade aimed at his throat.

His plan just might have worked.

◇◇◇◇

The pavilion spirit arrived at the kill site.

The forest was silent and five bodies lay where Moon had left them.

She walked closer. The temperature around her plummeted, frost spreading across the ground beneath her feet, crawling up the trunks of the dead trees.

She stood over the five bodies. Looked down at what remained of them.

Suddenly, the bodies exploded.

~BOOM~

Every corpse detonated simultaneously.

The pavilion spirit’s hand moved before the thought fully formed. A wall of ice materialized between her and the explosion, absorbing the blast in a cascade of steam and shattered frost.

She emerged unscathed. Her eyes swept the treeline, the ridges, every shadow and crevice within a hundred meters.

Nothing. Whoever planted those attacks was long gone.

Her thoughts drifted, alongside her gaze that settled on the distant peak. The pavilion sat there, its towers visible above the clouds.

The bad premonition in her heart increased greatly.

The spirit would rarely leave the pavilion because she didn’t need to, the pavilion provided her with the space to train, and get stronger...and most importantly...once she was out, she could no longer use the connection that the pavilion provided her with the spirits within it.

Unlike before, she could no longer feel the death of other spirits and share that news with others through its link. Nor did she have the ability to contact them. Even if somebody attacked the spirits, she couldn’t feel it.

She couldn’t revive back at the spirit pavilion either. To revive, she needed to be within proximity of her spirit stone.

The spirit gave up on the remains of her elders, and rushed back to the pavilion. Her face contorted for the first time in a long time.