Phantom’s Blizzard in Lower Town, Darkness & Enternal Chery Blossom
The blizzard howled across Dante’s Freezer, a desolate Arctic expanse where time itself seemed to have frozen mid-scream. The wasteland was a graveyard of history, littered with the jagged hulls of colossal war machines, shattered mechs, and the statuesque remains of soldiers trapped forever in their final, desperate postures of destruction.
"You must go there and find Makubex before he is lost forever," the elder dragon Ignitus had warned them back at the sanctuary.
Now, trudging through the knee-deep permafrost, the mismatched rescue party pressed on. Ban Mido—his hands shoved deep into his pockets against the biting chill—squinted through the blinding whiteouts. Beside him, Masaki Karsu adjusted his gear, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of life. Hovering just above the snowline, his scales providing the only vibrant color in the monochromatic waste, was Spyro the Dragon, puffing small embers into the air just to keep his wings from locking up. Bringing up the rear was Sia, her pale skin blending perfectly into the ice, her eyes carrying the hollow weight of a Blood survivor.
"They're calling the weapon the 'IL'... like the English word for sick or dying," Thread Master Kazaki said, strolling into the center of their camp as they paused behind the shelter of a frozen tank.
"And you say you can't give us any details? Even after you almost killed us testing our abilities?" Kyogi Kagimi sneered, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned against a frosted steel hull. "This 'Ill' must really be something."
Kazaki merely offered a cryptic, razor-thin smile, his fingers subtly twitching as if manipulating invisible threads in the freezing air.
Miles away, buried deep beneath the ice shelf in a hidden, subterranean sector of the ruins, a completely different conversation was echoing through the reinforced steel corridors.
"You never call me. What's the occasion?"
The voice belonged to Solomon, one of the elite Chevaliers. He stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on a massive, glowing containment unit housing a volatile, pulsing energy core—the IL.
"I've decided to move the IL to the research lab," replied Diva, her voice echoing with the detached, terrifying authority of one of the Gods of the Limitless Fortress. Though she spoke from the distant safety of her inner sanctum, her presence loomed large over the communications channel. "Someone has been snooping around."
Solomon's eyes narrowed as he looked out across the monitors, watching the security feeds of the frozen wasteland above. A blizzard was masking the terrain, but the sensors were picking up heat signatures. Four of them, accompanied by a rogue Thread Master.
The stage was set on the canvas of Dante's Freezer. As Ban and his allies closed in to rescue Makubex, the gears of the Limitless Fortress were already turning to protect their sick, dying weapon.
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