The Transcended Rule.
The law that devours all others. The space where only one being’s will reigns absolute.
It was not an ability, not a technique, not even an authority.. it was a new foundation, layered over reality, rewriting the fundamental order of existence within its reach. In this place, no power could exist but his. No law could function but his. No resistance could form unless he allowed it.
And now, this was their reality.
Gong!
A dull, ringing sound, like the chime of a rusted bell struck in the depths of an abyss. It reverberated through the air, pressing against the very concept of existence.
Celia, Jess, Uvan, and Lovia descended into a silence darker than the mist that wrapped around them. The frozen landscape stretched endlessly beneath their feet, their reflections distorted in the ice, as if reality itself was uncertain of their existence.
Then...
A pause. A realization.
Jess clenched her fist, then opened it. A flicker of panic flashed in her ember-bright eyes as her breath hitched. "I… I can’t feel my power," she whispered.
The words hung, fragile, shivering against the weight of the air.
Celia exhaled slowly, her blue gaze cold, calm, like the depths of the sea before a storm. "We can’t," she said, jaw tightening. "We are under his rule."
The Wanderer Who Laughs did not move. He simply sat there, perched upon the jagged rise of the frozen stone, his head propped against his hand, his smile carved into the void like a wound that would never close.
Then he spoke.
"Would you like to feel true happiness?"
The words did not need to be loud. They slithered through the silence, through the frost, through their bones.
Duuuum!
A force crashed down, heavier than the world, more suffocating than the depths of the ocean.
Agony.
Unquenchable, absolute, unrelenting.
It was not pain in the physical sense. It was deeper. It dug into marrow, into memory, into the very essence of self. It ripped through them, prying open every wound they had ever sealed, every loss they had ever buried, every sorrow they had ever carried. It plummeted their being into a realm where suffering was not a sensation, but a state of existence.
Jess staggered, fingers digging into the frost as she struggled to breathe. Lovia’s emerald eyes widened in sheer disbelief, her form trembling against something that was not real, yet more real than anything she had ever known.
Celia..
Celia did not move. She stood, her body rigid, shaking, eyes shut, as if she had already accepted the grief swallowing them whole.
Suddenly... It stopped..
The Wanderer Who Laughs remained seated, watching them. Studying them.
Then, in a single smooth motion, he stood.
The mist coiled around his figure as he descended from his stone throne, his foot meeting the ground with a soft, intentional thud.
Silence.
"Members of Team 5," he said, his voice light, almost amused. "How do you feel?"
No answer.
"Is your progress toward true happiness going well?" He tilted his head, his expression as unchanging as the frozen sky. "Or do you not feel anything at all?"
Still, no answer.
He chuckled.
"It seems you lot are a little too quiet."
Then, he moved.
A single step. Then another. The frost crunched beneath his weight, his approach slow, unhurried, inevitable.
Then he stopped... before Celia.
"Shall I use one of you for an example?"
Before any reaction could form, his armored foot slammed against Celia’s midsection, forcing her backward, her armored exo boots skidding against the ice...
Then, a single, sharp movement.
His hand shot forward, fingers weaving into her hair, twisting, pulling.
Then, he lifted her.
The mist curled around them as her body rose into the air, her white strands slipping between his fingers like silk as her form dangled, weightless.
Yet, she did not struggle.
She did not cry out.
She did not even open her eyes.
There was no fear. No pain.
The Wanderer Who Laughs studied her.
"Brave one, huh," he murmured.
Then she spoke.... in a whispering tone..
Soft. Quiet. Barely a breath.
"Agon would never drag my hair," Celia said. "Not even lift me up from there."
The Wanderer Who Laughs’ smile did not falter.
"Well, too bad I’m n..."
Then, before he could finish....
They were gone.
The air twisted.
The mist swirled in violent spirals.
And high above.. at the pinnacle of the frozen domain, where the frost and fog became one, where even light struggled to exist...
They reappeared.
Celia. The Wanderer Who Laughs.
Suspended in the void of frost and silence.
The Wanderer Who Laughs smiled wider.
"What do you think you’re doing, princess?"
Then.. something happened..
A change.
A flicker.
A breath of something unseen.
Celia’s lashes lifted.
And within the depths of her eyes...
A faint, translucent blue chill glow.
A whisper of power. A ripple of defiance.
The Wanderer Who Laughs watched, his expression unreadable.
"You managed to store and hide a tiny fraction of your power from my rule," he said, voice still light, still amused. "How nice. But do you think it will stop you from dying here?"
Celia did not answer.
Instead... She reached forward.
Her hands pressed against his shoulders.
And then... She spoke.
Not to him.
Not to the creature that had stolen his body.
But to the one still buried within.
"Agon."
A name. A tether. A command.
Her voice was calm, steady, unwavering.
"Remember what we promised each other when we were young?"
The mist roared around them. The frost crackled, splintering in unseen patterns.
"That we would protect each other," she continued. "No matter the circumstances."
Then... She smiled...
A soft, warm smile...
"In less than fifty seconds, I will fall to my death."
She held his gaze, unmoving.
"That means you have less than that to get yourself out of his control and catch me at the same time."
It was not a plea.
It was a quest.
A challenge.
And the clock was already ticking.
****
A silence stretched across the frost-laden void. The air, thick with lingering echoes of agony, had yet to settle. The mist curled and twisted, carrying the weight of something unnatural, something oppressive... his will still hung in the air, unstirred.
Celia’s words had cut through it.
Agon... the real Agon.
The Wanderer Who Laughs had stilled. For the first time, his expression faltered.. only slightly, but enough. His fingers tightened around Celia’s throat as if to squeeze the meaning out of her words. And then, he laughed.
"Ten seconds," he murmured, voice laced with amusement. "Why don’t we make it ten?"
The intention was clear. His stance shifted, weight coiling into his form, the force behind his motion raw and merciless. He was going to throw her... hurl her to the ground with all the force of his absolute dominion.
Yet, just as his arm moved, the moment stopped.
Not by his own will.
His fingers twitched, his body refused. A foreign hesitation crawled into his limbs, something unwelcome, something that did not belong to him.
What is this?
A voice echoed from within, smooth, quiet.. his voice.
"As a persona, I think you’ve done enough damage."
The Wanderer Who Laughs did not move. Did not breathe. He did not have to. Instead, he felt something press against him, unseen yet undeniable. A shift. A pulling from the inside out.
"I’ll take it from here."
It was not a request.
The Wanderer Who Laughs chuckled under his breath, something almost giddy curling into his voice. "No, no, I haven’t shown them what true happiness is yet. I can’t leave now."
There was a pause. A breath before the inevitable conclusion.
"From here on out, I’ll decide who you show true happiness to."
Then, silence.
The Wanderer Who Laughs exhaled.. a long, drawn-out sigh, almost as if amused, before his eyes fluttered shut.
A shift.
The world turned ashen white.
The frost cage collapsed. The towering mist thinned, dissolving into the air as though it had never been there. Reality reformed, the frozen void peeling away to reveal the true landscape beneath... charred remnants of a shattered forest, its skeletal trees stretching toward the overcast sky. The land was barren, drained of warmth, yet freed from its suffocating grip.
A shadow descended from above.
Light. A soft thud.
The figure landed without force, his movements fluid, controlled. His exoskeleton, once a pristine white ash, now bore cracks along its surface, residual traces of something else lurking beneath...
Agon had returned.
His expression was calm, the weight of exhaustion visible in the slight way his shoulders slumped. But his arms remained steady as he lowered Celia to the ground with care, his grip lingering just for a second before pulling away.
She straightened, deep blue eyes searching his face.
A moment later, the others approached.. Jess, Uvan, Lovia. Their steps careful, uncertain, as though unwilling to disturb whatever had just transpired.
Then, Agon smiled, sheepish and quiet. "Sorry for the trouble."
Jess scoffed. "Trouble? You call that trouble?" She exhaled sharply, hands on her hips before shaking her head. "What the hell was that, anyway?"
Agon ran a hand through his disheveled gray hair, voice almost too casual. "A persona of mine," he admitted. "It’s the first time it had been activated.."
Jess frowned but nodded. "Creepy."
A silence settled between them, yet it was different now. Warmer, despite the lingering chill.
This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.
For the first time since the battle began, there was a moment of reprieve.
And yet, it was short-lived.
Agon’s balance wavered.
It was subtle at first.. a slight shift, the weight against his heels tipping. But the moment his body gave out, Celia was already there.
She caught him, steady arms holding firm as his head slumped against her shoulder.
His breathing was slow, steady. Deeply wasted.
Jess crouched beside them, lips pressing into a thin line before she sighed. "He’s blacked out, alright."
Celia let out a quiet chuckle, adjusting her grip. "Maybe he’s already dreaming of peacocks for our next mission."
The group laughed.. tired, but genuine.
The tension had not disappeared, but it had eased, at least for now.
As they stood there, Agon’s form slowly began returning to normal. His bio-armor, however, did not. The white-ash texture remained, the sheen of something alive still present, even as the boy beneath it breathed as nothing more than himself.
Celia’s fingers curled slightly against his back, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she whispered...
"Rest well."
The dawn was breaking.
The sky remained overcast, the battle still fresh in the cold air. Yet something had changed.
The mist had thinned. The frost had melted.
The world had shifted.
And Team 5 stood at its center, no longer just survivors....
But something more....
[END OF ARC_4: THE AMBUSH]