The violet light vanished from the flooded street, leaving only the empty space where Suzu had been and the sound of water dripping from broken stone. Morning spread over the Coastal Kingdom in a thin wash of gold, touching collapsed buildings, shattered streets, and blood-stained water without changing any of it.

Kaito remained on one knee near the center of the district, one hand pressed over the poisoned kunai beneath his collarbone. His katana rested beside him in the water, its flames gone. The force that had filled the battlefield when he faced Tsubasa had drained from him, leaving him pale and motionless beneath the blood streaking his face and cloak.

Itsuki stood several yards away, staring at the place where Shunjiro had disappeared. The portal had left no mark behind. There was no violet light, no trace of spiritual energy, and no sign that he had ever been there at all.

Yoshinori looked from Itsuki to Kaito, then toward the place where Suzu had vanished. The losses settled over him one at a time. Shunjiro was gone. Aiko, Sora, and Yuki had been sent somewhere else in the kingdom. Tetsuo had not moved since Suzu struck him. Hikari was dead.

The battle had ended, but nothing about the ruined district felt like victory.

Daichi stood with both hands braced against his knees, blood still dripping from the injuries along his body. Rei sat against a broken wall, too exhausted to rise. Aira remained near Roki and the other wounded fighters, staring at them with a helplessness that Yoshinori had never seen from her before.

Ryuji stayed beside Tetsuo.

Lars sat against a slab of fallen stone with one hand pressed over his reopened chest wound. Akima remained close to him, battered but conscious.

Yoshinori forced himself to straighten despite the pain in his side and shoulder. His spiritual energy was nearly gone, and every breath scraped through his chest, but he could still stand. That had to be enough.

“We need to move,” he said.

The words were quiet at first, nearly swallowed by the silence around them. Yoshinori looked across the group and raised his voice.

“We need to move now.”

Daichi lifted his head. Rei looked toward him. Lars turned his eyes in Yoshinori’s direction, though exhaustion had hollowed out his expression.

Yoshinori pointed toward Kaito. “Kaito needs a healer. The poison is still in him, and he can barely move. Roki is unconscious. Tetsuo is down. Ryota needs to be checked. Lars is bleeding through his clothes, and Daichi should not even be standing.”

Daichi gave a dry breath that almost became a laugh. “I noticed.”

Yoshinori ignored him and turned to Aira. “Can you do anything?”

Aira lowered her eyes. She hesitated before shaking her head.

“I do not have enough left,” she said. “Not for this many people.”

The answer hurt more than Yoshinori expected. Aira had spent the battle surrounded by people who needed healing, and now that the fighting was over, she had nothing left to give them.

“Then we find someone who can,” Yoshinori said.

Ryuji looked over from Tetsuo’s side. “With what? Half the city is probably too terrified to come near this district.”

“Then we get out of the district.”

“And how are we supposed to carry everyone?”

Yoshinori did not answer immediately. The question was fair. Some of them could walk with help. Others could barely lift their heads. Kaito, Tetsuo, Roki, and several others would need to be carried. The flooded streets and collapsed buildings made every direction feel impossible.

Still, they could not remain there.

“We do not leave anyone behind,” Yoshinori said. “We carry the people who cannot walk, help the people who can, and find transport as soon as we reach the upper streets. Nobody goes after Tsubasa. Nobody goes after Suzu. Nobody leaves alone looking for the others.”

Itsuki flinched slightly when he said Suzu’s name.

Yoshinori noticed, but there was no way to make the truth gentler. They could not chase anyone. They did not know where Tsubasa had taken Shunjiro or Suzu, and they were in no condition to fight another enemy.

He stepped closer to Itsuki and stopped a few feet away from her.

“Itsuki,” he said quietly.

She did not look at him.

Her clothes were still soaked from the flooded street, and dried blood marked one sleeve. The exhaustion in her posture made her seem smaller than she had before the battle. Yoshinori could not bring himself to say Shunjiro’s name again.

“We are getting everyone help,” he told her. “After that, we will figure out what comes next.”

Itsuki only looked down at the water around her, where the reflection of the morning sky trembled across the surface.

Behind them, Daichi forced himself upright. His body shook with the effort, and Aira immediately turned toward him.

“Do not start again,” she said.

“I am not.”

Daichi looked across the battlefield, taking in Kaito, Tetsuo, Roki, and the other wounded fighters. His gaze settled on Hikari’s body in the distance.

“We need transport,” he said. “Not just healers.”

Yoshinori nodded. “There are carriages in the upper districts. If any are still intact, we can use them.”

“I will go.”

Aira stepped toward him immediately. “No.”

“I can walk.”

“You can barely stand.”

Daichi’s expression tightened.

“None of us are leaving alone,” Yoshinori said. “Not after what Tsubasa did. We stay together until we know everyone is safe.”

For a moment, Daichi looked ready to push back. Then he glanced at the injured group and lowered his shoulders.

“Fine.”

Yoshinori turned toward Rei, Akima, and Lars. “Can any of you move?”

Rei gave a faint nod. Akima looked down at her hands before answering.

“I can walk.”

Lars pushed himself away from the broken stone. Pain flashed across his face, and his hand tightened over his chest.

“I can move.”

Yoshinori followed his gaze and understood. Ryota had not been checked since Lars returned to the battle, and Hikari could not remain alone in the ruins.

“We get them first,” Yoshinori said. “Then we bring everyone together.”

Ryuji lowered himself beside Tetsuo as the others began to move.

The floodwater around the unconscious boy had darkened with blood. Tetsuo lay on his side amid the remnants of his shattered stone armor, one arm stretched loosely through the water. From nearby, the wound across the left side of his face looked even worse than it had from a distance.

The blood began near his forehead and ran downward across his eye and cheek. His left eye was gone beneath the injury, leaving swollen, torn skin and a deep scar that would remain long after the blood had been washed away.

Tetsuo’s chest barely moved.

Ryuji reached for him, then stopped when he realized his hands were shaking.

He had dragged Tetsuo out of the fight because he could not leave him behind. Until now, he had held onto the belief that Tetsuo was alive because the alternative was unbearable. But kneeling beside him made that hope feel fragile.

Yoshinori watched from several feet away. The urgency that had carried him through the last few minutes faded as he focused on Tetsuo’s still body.

Itsuki turned too. Her expression remained hollow, but she took a slow step closer.

Ryuji pressed two fingers beneath Tetsuo’s jaw and searched for a pulse.

At first, he felt nothing but cold water against his skin.

Yoshinori’s face tightened. “Ryuji.”

Ryuji adjusted his fingers and waited, watching for the faintest movement in Tetsuo’s chest.

Several seconds passed.

Then he felt it.

A weak pulse pressed beneath his fingertips.

Ryuji held his breath until he felt another beat. It was slow and uneven, but real.

“He’s alive,” Ryuji said.

Yoshinori froze. Then the tension in his face broke, and a breath left him as though he had been holding it since Tetsuo fell.

“He’s alive,” he repeated.

“Barely,” Ryuji warned. “His pulse is weak, and he has lost too much blood. We need a healer as soon as possible.”

Yoshinori dropped to one knee beside Tetsuo. His hand hovered over his friend’s shoulder before he carefully rested it there.

“Tetsuo,” he said under his breath.

There was no response.

Itsuki stood behind them, tears gathering silently in her eyes. She had nothing left to say, but the confirmation that Tetsuo was alive reached through some part of the numbness inside her. She lowered herself beside Yoshinori and rested one hand on the wet stone near Tetsuo’s arm.

Ryuji pulled part of Tetsuo’s torn clothing over the worst of the wound near his eye, trying to protect it until they could reach a proper healer. Tetsuo’s brow tightened faintly, and a weak sound escaped him.

Ryuji looked up quickly. “He felt that.”

“He is still unconscious,” Yoshinori said, though he leaned closer immediately. “But he is still here.”

Daichi approached with an uneven step. “Can we move him?”

“Not without support,” Ryuji replied. “His injuries are too serious.”

Aira knelt beside Tetsuo despite the exhaustion written across her face.

“I can slow the bleeding,” she said. “I cannot heal him, but I can keep it from getting worse.”

Ryuji nodded.

Aira placed her hands over Tetsuo’s chest wound and focused the small amount of spiritual energy she had left. A faint glow gathered beneath her palms, weak but steady enough to slow the bleeding.

Rei watched from the nearby wall. “Do not drain yourself dry.”

“I am not letting him bleed out,” Aira replied.

Yoshinori looked down at Tetsuo. His friend was still alive. Aiko, Sora, and Yuki were still somewhere in the kingdom. Shunjiro had been taken, not buried. Suzu had been taken alive.

They were scattered, injured, and broken, but they were not all gone.

“We are getting him home,” Yoshinori said.

Ryuji looked up.

“All of us,” Yoshinori continued. “We are getting everyone home.”

Lars was the first to head toward Ryota and Hikari.

The place where Mars Guild had moved them was visible now that Suzu’s barrier was gone. Morning light reached the edge of the ruined district without obstruction, revealing Ryota sitting upright against a low wall of rubble with one hand pressed firmly over the injury across his chest.

Hikari lay a short distance away beneath a cloak.

Lars moved toward them, ignoring the pain in his chest. Akima followed him without a word.

“You should not be walking,” she said.

Lars did not slow down. “Neither should you.”

“I am not the one bleeding through his shirt.”

They crossed streets marked by the aftermath of Suzu’s attacks. Broken buildings leaned over the road, and deep cuts ran through the stone where blood sickles had torn past. By the time they reached Ryota, he had noticed them.

“You took your time,” he said.

The attempt at humor was weak, but Lars let out a short breath of relief.

“You look terrible,” Lars replied.

Ryota gave a faint smile. “You too.”

Akima crouched beside him and looked over the wound across his chest. A deep slash ran diagonally beneath his torn clothing. It had stopped bleeding heavily, but it was too severe to heal without leaving a permanent scar.

“Can you stand?” Akima asked.

Ryota looked at her. “Yes. With help.”

Akima nodded. “Then we are taking you back.”

Ryota’s gaze shifted toward Hikari’s covered body. He had stayed beside them, too injured to carry Hikari back alone and too unwilling to leave.

“We are bringing Hikari too,” Lars said.

Ryota’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.

Akima moved to Ryota’s left side and took his arm over her shoulder. Lars took his other side, suppressing the pain that flared through his chest when Ryota leaned against him.

Ryota inhaled sharply as he stood. His legs shook, and blood darkened the bandages across his chest again, but he remained upright.

“There,” he muttered. “Fine.”

They brought Ryota back slowly. By the time they reached the others, his strength had begun to fail.

“Ryota is awake,” Yoshinori called.

Aira, Daichi, and Yoshinori moved toward them and carefully took Ryota’s weight. They lowered him against a section of dry stone near the others.

Aira examined the wound as best she could. “You are stable, but you need real treatment.”

“I figured,” Ryota said.

Daichi looked beyond him toward the edge of the battlefield.

“Hikari?”

“We left the body where it was,” Lars said. “We needed to get Ryota back first.”

Daichi closed his eyes briefly.

Lars turned back toward the distant rubble with Akima beside him. When they reached Hikari, the cloak still covered the body, and the water around it had gone still.

Lars slid one arm carefully beneath Hikari’s shoulders while Akima supported the legs. They lifted together and carried the body back through the ruined district without speaking.

Daichi stepped forward when they returned and helped them lower Hikari onto a flat section of stone near Ryota. Aira adjusted the cloak, ensuring it covered the body completely. Rei turned her face away and pressed one hand over her eyes.

Ryota watched in silence. His fingers curled tightly into the cloth over his chest, and the effort it took him to remain still showed in his expression.

The sound of footsteps reached the ruined district before anyone saw who was approaching.

They were uneven steps, slow and dragging over broken stone. Yoshinori first assumed one of the Coastal Kingdom’s guards had finally reached the battlefield. Then a figure emerged from between two collapsed buildings, moving through the shallow water with one hand held close to her side.

Aiko.

Yoshinori straightened immediately.

She looked exhausted enough to collapse. Her clothes were torn, her legs moved stiffly beneath the weight of old injuries, and one sleeve hung in ragged strips. Her dagger was gone.

But that was not what made everyone stare.

The left side of her face was scarred.

Ash-colored cracks ran across the damaged skin from near her ear toward her temple and cheek. The Rot had stopped just short of her left eye, leaving her vision intact, but the mark was impossible to miss.

Aiko saw everyone looking at her. Her hand lifted toward the scar, then stopped before touching it.

“Aiko,” Yoshinori said.

She looked at him, and the fierce expression she had carried into the district slipped for a moment. Her gaze moved over the wounded people gathered in the street. She saw Itsuki beside Tetsuo. Ryuji remained close to him. Ryota was awake but pale against the rubble. Hikari’s body rested nearby beneath the cloak.

Then she noticed the empty place where Shunjiro should have been.

“Where is Shunjiro?” she asked.

Yoshinori’s throat tightened. “Tsubasa took him through a portal.”

Aiko’s eyes widened. “And Suzu?”

“Taken too.”

Her gaze shifted toward Itsuki. The healer had not looked up when Aiko arrived, but her shoulders tightened at Shunjiro’s name. Aiko understood enough from that silence.

Ryuji noticed the tremor in her fingers. “What happened to your face?”

Aiko went still.

Rei looked toward her from the wall. Daichi’s eyes narrowed. Aira stepped closer despite her exhaustion, her healer’s instincts taking over.

“I was teleported somewhere else,” Aiko said. “Another part of the kingdom. There was a woman waiting for me.”

“One of Tsubasa’s people?” Yoshinori asked.

“I do not know if she works for him. She said she was with herself.”

“What was her name?” Daichi asked.

“Reina Kusare.”

No one recognized it.

“She can rot anything she touches,” Aiko continued. “Stone, wood, metal, clothes. It does not matter.” Her eyes lifted toward Yoshinori. “She touched my face.”

The group fell silent.

Aira studied the scar without reaching toward it. “Does it still hurt?”

Aiko nodded. “It feels like it is still burning.”

“I do not have enough energy to heal something like that,” Aira said quietly.

Aiko lowered her eyes. “I do not think it can be healed.”

Yoshinori stared at the scar. It did not resemble an ordinary burn. The skin looked as though it had been forced to decay, and the ash-like fractures had settled into place too deeply to disappear.

“That woman did this because she could?” Ryuji asked.

Aiko nodded.

“She wanted to see if I would be afraid.”

Daichi studied her carefully. “Were you?”

Aiko’s hand rose toward the scar, but her fingertips stopped before touching it.

“Yes,” she said.

For a moment, the memory of Reina’s hand against her face returned with painful clarity. Aiko remembered the dry heat spreading beneath her skin and the certainty that another second of contact would have taken her eye.

She had been afraid.

But fear had not stopped her from coming back.

“That is why I am going to remember her,” Aiko said.

Her voice was quiet, but firm.

“I am going to remember her name and what she did. When I see Reina Kusare again, I am not letting her touch anyone else.”

The scar would remain as a reminder of that promise.

Akima stood apart from the wounded group with her eyes closed, one hand pressed lightly against her temple.

The Coastal Kingdom was filled with frightened civilians, guards, and families searching for one another. Their thoughts reached her in scattered fragments, each one crowded with fear and confusion. Akima had to push past them carefully, searching for two familiar presences instead.

She found Yuki first.

Akima’s eyes opened.

“I found her,” she said.

Yoshinori stepped closer. “Where?”

“Near the market district. Far from here.”

“What about Sora?”

Akima’s expression changed. “I can feel him, but something is wrong with his mind. It feels buried beneath something heavy.”

“Corruption?”

“He is alive,” Akima said. “That is all I know.”

Yoshinori looked back at the others. Lars had been lowered against a broken wall after carrying Hikari back. Ryuji remained beside Tetsuo. Daichi was barely standing near Roki. No one else could safely leave the group.

“I am coming with you,” Yoshinori said.

Akima looked at the injuries along his side and shoulder. “You should not be walking either.”

“We do not have another option.”

“You could send someone else.”

“Who?”

Akima did not answer.

Yoshinori turned toward Aira. “We will be back as quickly as we can. Stay with Kaito and the others.”

Aira nodded. “Do not push yourselves too far.”

Yoshinori gave her a tired look. “That advice is late.”

Akima led him toward the northern streets.

The farther they moved from Suzu’s battlefield, the quieter the city became. Abandoned market carts blocked the roads, and shattered glass covered the stone outside empty shops. As they neared the market district, frost began to spread across the street.

It covered broken signs, spilled over walls, and climbed across rooftops beneath the morning sun. Their breath clouded in front of them.

Then the market came into view.

The entire district had been frozen.

Thick ice covered the street, while jagged walls and crystal spears rose higher than the rooftops. A glacial pillar had torn through the center of one building and split its roof apart. The destruction was far beyond anything Yoshinori had seen Yuki create before.

“I did not know she could do this,” Akima said.

“Neither did I,” Yoshinori replied.

They moved carefully through the ice until they reached the center of the market.

Yuki sat beside Sora’s unconscious body in the middle of the frozen road. Blood had dried near her temple, and her clothes were torn from the fight. One hand rested against Sora’s shoulder.

Thin black veins remained visible along Sora’s neck and arm. Frost clung to his hair and clothes, but his chest rose slowly and steadily.

Yuki heard their footsteps and looked up. Weak frost gathered around her fingers.

“Stop,” she said.

“It is us,” Yoshinori replied, raising his hands.

Her eyes focused on them, and the frost weakened.

“Yoshinori?”

Akima stepped forward. “We came to find you.”

Yuki’s shoulders dropped. “I thought everyone was gone.”

Yoshinori crouched beside Sora. “What happened?”

“There was someone waiting here,” Yuki said. “He was with Tsubasa. His name was Renjiro.”

“Renjiro?”

She nodded. “He had a scythe. A black shaft, a red blade. He called it the Hell Scythe.”

Akima’s expression tightened.

“He cut Sora,” Yuki continued. “The wound was small at first, but darkness started spreading through him.” Her gaze moved to the black veins along Sora’s neck. “He told me to run.”

“But you stayed,” Yoshinori said.

“I could not leave him.”

Yuki’s fingers tightened against Sora’s shoulder.

“He changed after that. He stopped looking at me like himself, and then he attacked me. I tried to slow him down without hurting him, but he kept breaking through everything I made.”

Yoshinori looked around at the frozen market and understood how desperate the fight had become.

“He hit me,” Yuki said. “Then I got scared.”

Yoshinori looked at the blood near her temple, and anger rose inside him. Renjiro had stood back and forced them to turn against each other.

“I do not know what happened after that,” Yuki said. “My ice became stronger. Too strong. I could not control it.” She looked around at the massive structures covering the market. “Renjiro could not stay still anymore.”

“He escaped?” Akima asked.

Yuki nodded. “Tsubasa opened a portal for him. Before he left, Renjiro called me Ice Princess again.”

Yoshinori frowned. “Again?”

“That is what he called me when we first met,” Yuki said. “I do not know why.”

“It matters if he thinks he knows something about you,” Akima said.

“I only know that he is dangerous.”

Yoshinori looked back at Sora. “What happened after Renjiro left?”

Yuki’s expression tightened.

“I froze Sora until he could not move,” she said. “Then I used a different kind of frost to put him to sleep. I did not know what else to do. I could not kill him, but I could not let him keep coming after me either.”

Akima crouched beside Sora without touching him. “You did what you had to.”

Yuki shook her head.

“He was looking at me, but it was not him. He did not recognize me.” Her palm pressed more firmly against Sora’s shoulder. “What if he wakes up like that again?”

Yoshinori wanted to promise her that Sora would be fine, but the black veins beneath his skin made the words impossible.

“We will not let him wake up alone,” he said instead. “We are taking him to a healer, and we will stay with him until we know what is happening. You are not dealing with this by yourself anymore.”

Yuki looked at him for a few seconds before giving a small nod.

“Can you stand?” Akima asked.

Yuki tried to rise, but her legs shook beneath her. Yoshinori caught her arm before she could fall.

She looked at him, tiredness and fear still clear in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

Yoshinori gave her arm a steadying grip. “You do not have to walk alone.”

Yuki nodded and let him help her stand.

Akima looked at Sora. “We need to carry him.”

Yoshinori slid one arm beneath Sora’s shoulders and another beneath his knees. Pain flared through his side and shoulder as he lifted him, but he forced himself upright.

Akima moved to his side. “I can take some of his weight.”

“You need to guide us through this ice.”

“I can do both.”

Yoshinori gave her a tired look. “You sound like Daichi.”

A faint expression touched Akima’s face, almost a smile.

Together, they started back toward the ruined district. Yuki stayed close beside them, watching Sora with fear she could not hide.

Behind them, the frozen market glittered beneath the morning sun.

The ice was beautiful from a distance, but it had been made by terror.

And the black veins beneath Sora’s skin made it impossible to believe the danger had truly passed.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Vil left the ruined district before the survivors had finished gathering the wounded.

There was nothing more he could do for Kaito, Tetsuo, or the young adventurers scattered across the kingdom. They needed healers, transport, and people stronger than him in the ways that mattered most at that moment. The city needed something different.

It needed doors opened. Streets cleared. Civilians moved away from the districts that might still collapse.

By the time Vil reached the lower streets, the morning had settled fully over the Coastal Kingdom. Sunlight touched the pale stone buildings and the blue water beyond them, but the city no longer looked like the place it had been the day before. 

Everywhere Vil looked, someone was searching.

A mother stood outside a damaged shop with both hands pressed over her mouth while two guards spoke quietly to her. An old man sat on the edge of a fountain with a blanket around his shoulders, staring at a street that no longer existed beyond a pile of rubble. Children clung to their parents as groups of civilians moved toward the upper districts under the direction of exhausted guards.

The battle had ended.

The fear had not.

Vil kept walking until his bar came into view at the end of the street.

The sign above the entrance still hung from its chain, though one side had split and tilted downward. Several front windows had been blown out, leaving jagged glass around the frames. The door stood half-open, and a long crack ran through the stone above it. Someone had dragged two tables against the broken windows during the evacuation, trying to keep the wind and debris from blowing inside.

Vil stopped in front of it.

For years, the bar had been one of the few places in the kingdom where strangers could sit beside one another without worrying about rank, guild colors, or whatever trouble waited outside. Fishermen came in after long days at sea. Guards stopped by after patrols. Adventurers argued over missions and drank too much when they returned alive.

The room was usually loud.

Now it was silent.

Vil pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The damage was worse than it looked from the street. Several tables had been overturned. Broken glasses covered the floor behind the counter. A section of the ceiling had collapsed near the back wall, leaving dust and splintered beams scattered across the empty room. The familiar smell of food, salt, and old wood had been replaced by smoke and damp stone.

A few civilians sat near the far wall beneath blankets gathered from somewhere upstairs. They looked up when Vil entered.

One of them, a woman with a young boy pressed against her side, stood carefully.

“Vil,” she said. “We did not know if you were coming back.”

He looked around the room. “How many are here?”

“Twenty-three,” she replied. “More were here earlier, but the guards started taking people toward the upper district.”

“Good.”

The woman hesitated. “Is it over?”

Vil did not answer immediately.

He looked through the broken front window toward the street outside, where more people moved slowly beneath the morning sun. He had seen Suzu fall. He had watched the barrier disappear. He knew the immediate danger was gone.

But Shunjiro had been taken. Suzu had been taken. The people responsible had vanished through portals, and nobody knew where they had gone.

“For now,” he said.

The woman looked down at the boy beside her. “Will they come back?”

Vil’s expression remained still.

“I do not know,” he replied. “That is why nobody stays near the damaged districts.”

He walked behind the counter and set both hands against the familiar wood. The surface had been split down the center by a crack that ran from one end to the other. For a moment, he simply stood there, looking at the room he had built.

A frightened voice came from near the entrance.

“Sir?”

Vil turned.

A young Coastal Kingdom guard stood in the doorway, his uniform torn at one shoulder and dust covering his face. He looked too young to be giving orders, but he was trying his best to keep his posture straight.

“The eastern road is blocked,” the guard said. “Part of the buildings near the market collapsed. We can still move people through the north route, but we need somewhere to send them until more shelters are opened.”

Vil looked at the civilians sitting along the wall.

Then he looked at the upper floor above the bar.

“The rooms upstairs are still standing,” he said. “Use them for families with children, anyone injured, and anyone who cannot walk far. Do not let more than a few people stay on the ground floor. The windows are gone, and I do not trust the ceiling near the back.”

The guard nodded quickly.

“What about everyone else?”

“Keep moving them north. Get them away from the ruins and toward the upper district. Find every working carriage you can, and use them for the elderly and wounded.”

“Yes, sir.”

The guard started to leave, then paused.

“What about your bar?”

Vil looked around the damaged room again.

The counter was broken. The floor was covered in glass. The sign outside might not survive another strong wind.

“It is still standing,” he said. “That is enough.”

The guard gave a quick nod before hurrying back into the street.

Vil turned toward the civilians gathered in the room.

“Listen to the guards,” he told them. “The lower streets are not safe yet. Stay together, help the people who cannot move quickly, and do not go searching through damaged buildings on your own.”

The woman near the wall looked toward the broken windows.

“My brother was working near the market,” she said quietly.

Vil met her eyes.

“I know.”

She seemed to expect more from him. A promise. Reassurance. Something that would make the morning feel less frightening.

Vil could not give her any of that.

“The guards are searching every safe route they can reach,” he said. “If he is out there, they will find him.”

The woman nodded, though tears had already gathered in her eyes.

Vil stepped away from the counter and moved toward the doorway. Before leaving, he looked back once more at the empty stools, the cracked wood, and the blankets gathered near the wall.

The Coastal Kingdom had survived the night.

But survival was not the same as being untouched.

The city would rebuild its streets. It would replace shattered windows, repair roofs, and clear the floodwater from the lower districts. The bar could be fixed. The market could reopen. People would return to their routines because that was what people did after disaster.

Yet some things would remain broken long after the stone had been repaired.

Vil stepped back into the street and looked toward the distant ruins where the battle had taken place.

Then he turned toward the civilians moving through the city and began helping them find a way forward.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

By the time Yoshinori and Akima returned with Yuki and Sora, the survivors had gathered in the broadest section of the ruined street they could find.

It was not safe in any real sense. Broken walls leaned over the road, and shallow water still flowed between cracks in the stone. But the buildings around them had stopped collapsing, and there was enough open space to keep the wounded close together while they waited for help.

Kaito rested against a section of fallen masonry with the poisoned kunai still buried beneath his collarbone. His face had lost most of its color, and his right arm lay stiffly at his side, but his eyes remained open. Tetsuo had been placed carefully on a torn cloak beside Ryuji and Aira, his breathing faint beneath the cloth pressed against his chest. Roki remained unconscious nearby, while Ryota sat against another piece of rubble with his chest wound bound as tightly as anyone could manage.

Sora had been laid on the opposite side of the group.

Yuki stayed beside him, close enough that her shoulder nearly touched his. The black veins beneath his skin had not faded, and every time his breathing changed, even slightly, her eyes moved toward him.

Aiko sat a few feet away with her knees drawn close, one hand resting near the scar on the left side of her face without quite touching it. Itsuki remained beside Tetsuo in silence. Daichi, Rei, Akima, Lars, and Aira were scattered around the others, each of them too injured to do much more than wait.

Hikari’s body rested beneath a cloak near Ryota.

Yoshinori stood near the center of the group, watching the roads beyond the ruined district. He had told everyone that help would come. He had said it with more certainty than he felt, because the alternative was unbearable.

Then he heard the sound of hooves.

At first, it came faintly from beyond the damaged buildings. The rhythm was too fast and too heavy to belong to ordinary horses. It grew louder with every second, striking against the stone streets in a deep, steady pattern that carried through the ruins.

Everyone who could still move looked toward the northern road.

A carriage appeared between the broken buildings.

Two enormous creatures pulled it through the damaged streets at a speed that should have been impossible with the weight behind them. Their bodies were shaped like powerful horses, but their long legs and narrow faces carried something more graceful than any animal Yoshinori had seen before. Pale-gold coats shone beneath the morning light, and branching ivory antlers rose above their heads like crowns. Gold-lined harnesses wrapped around their chests and shoulders, glowing faintly as spiritual energy flowed through the reinforced straps.

The creatures did not slow until they reached the edge of the ruined district.

Their hooves struck the flooded stone, sending water splashing outward as the carriage came to a sharp stop.

Yoshinori stared.

“Aurelhorns,” Akima said quietly.

The name carried weight even among people who had never seen one before.

Aurelhorns came from the Light Continent, rare creatures bred for speed and endurance long before the Kingdom of Radiance had become known for its guilds and knights. Their numbers had dwindled over the years, and only a few remained under the protection of major kingdoms. The spiritual energy moving through their harnesses strengthened every step without overwhelming their bodies, allowing them to pull a full carriage faster than ordinary mounts could travel alone.

The door of the carriage swung open.

Hiroto Makabe stepped down first.

His silver armor was scratched and dusted with road dirt, the red trim around its edges darkened by the long journey. His black hair, streaked with gray, was messier than usual, and the moment his eyes landed on the ruined district, all the relief in his face disappeared.

“Kaito!” he shouted.

He moved before anyone could answer.

Akira Namiki jumped down behind him, golden armor catching the sunlight as she landed. Her black ponytail swung across her back while her green-yellow eyes swept over the street, taking in every injured person before her expression hardened. Mei Hoshino followed more carefully, lavender hair falling over one shoulder as she stepped down from the carriage in her gray sweater and dark clothing. Yumi Kurosawa came last, her black hair shifting in the morning wind as she looked toward the survivors.

For one brief moment, none of them spoke.

They had known there was a battle.

They had known Suzu had lost control.

They had come as quickly as the Aurelhorns could carry them.

But knowing there had been a battle was not the same as seeing what it had left behind.

Hiroto slowed when he reached Kaito.

His eyes moved from the poisoned kunai in Kaito’s shoulder to the blood along his cloak, then toward the katana resting in the water beside him.

“What happened?” Hiroto asked.

Kaito lifted his eyes toward him.

“Tsubasa Astoria,” he said.

Hiroto’s expression changed immediately.

Akira stopped beside him. “The Prince of Altheron?”

Kaito gave the smallest nod.

“He took Suzu,” Yoshinori said from behind them. “And Shunjiro.”

Hiroto looked toward him.

For the first time, he seemed to notice the rest of the battlefield properly.

His eyes moved over Itsuki’s empty expression. Then to Tetsuo’s unconscious body. Then to Sora, whose black veins stood out against his skin even from a distance. He saw Aiko’s scar. He saw Hikari beneath the cloak. He saw Ryota barely holding himself upright and Roki lying motionless beside the others.

The silence that followed was different from the silence before their arrival.

Before, it had been the silence of people who did not know whether help was coming.

Now it was the silence of people realizing help had come too late to prevent everything.

Yumi stepped away from the carriage slowly.

Her pink eyes moved across the wounded group, and the softness in her face disappeared when she saw Hikari’s covered body.

She did not ask who it was.

She did not need to.

Her gaze lowered for a second before she continued forward.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly.

Hiroto dragged one hand through his hair, then forced himself to focus.

“Who needs help first?” he asked.

Yoshinori looked toward Tetsuo. “Tetsuo is barely holding on. Kaito is poisoned. Sora was cut by something that corrupted him. Roki has been unconscious since the fight. Ryota is stable, but his chest is bad. Lars reopened an old wound. Daichi, Rei, Akima, Aira, and I are all injured.”

“And Hikari?” Akira asked.

Yoshinori did not answer.

Aira lowered her eyes.

Akira’s jaw tightened.

Mei looked toward Itsuki, who remained seated beside Tetsuo without reacting to any of them. Her face was drained of color, and the exhaustion in her posture made her appear fragile in a way Mei had never seen before.

“Itsuki,” Mei said gently.

Itsuki did not look up.

Mei took a small step closer, then stopped. She understood that there was nothing she could say that would reach her right now.

Aiko watched the Gilded Blades from where she sat. When Yumi’s eyes found the scar on her face, the healer’s expression shifted.

“Aiko,” Yumi said softly. “What happened?”

Aiko’s hand rose toward the side of her face again.

“Someone named Reina Kusare,” she answered. “She can rot anything she touches.”

Yumi crouched beside her, moving slowly enough that Aiko could pull away if she wanted to. She studied the ash-colored cracks along Aiko’s skin without touching them.

“Did she do this with her bare hand?”

Aiko nodded.

Yumi’s expression tightened.

“Can you heal it?” Aiko asked.

The question came out quieter than the others had expected.

Yumi looked at the scar for several seconds before she answered.

“I do not know yet,” she said honestly. “But I will try when everyone is stable.”

Aiko lowered her hand.

She did not look relieved.

Akira turned back toward Yoshinori. “You said Sora was corrupted?”

Yuki’s posture stiffened immediately.

“He was cut by a scythe,” she said. Her voice was low, but clear enough that everyone heard her. “The person who did it called the weapon the Hell Scythe.”

Akira’s eyes narrowed.

“Renjiro,” Kaito said.

Yuki looked toward him.

Kaito’s breathing had grown shallower, but his voice remained controlled. “The scythe belongs to him.”

“He made Sora attack me,” Yuki said. “I put him to sleep before he could hurt anyone else.”

Yumi looked toward Sora, then back at Yuki.

“You did that alone?”

Yuki nodded.

The question seemed to make her uncomfortable.

“I did not have a choice.”

Mei stepped toward the center of the group and looked over the damaged district. Her eyes moved from the broken buildings to the open street around them.

“We cannot treat them without protection,” she said.

Hiroto nodded immediately. “Do it.”

Mei lifted both hands.

Spiritual energy gathered around her palms in a soft violet glow. Unlike Suzu’s barrier, there was no pressure in it. No sense of being trapped. The energy spread outward in a widening dome, passing over the flooded street and surrounding the survivors in a transparent shield that shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight.

The sound of the city changed the moment it formed.

The wind softened.

The distant noise of guards and civilians faded into something muted and far away.

For the first time since Suzu’s barrier had risen over the district, the people inside a barrier did not feel imprisoned.

They felt protected.

Yumi looked around at the wounded group as the soft light settled over them.

“Everyone who can hear me, stay awake,” she said. Her voice was gentle, but it carried through the barrier clearly. “Do not try to stand unless someone helps you. We are here now.”

Itsuki still did not respond.

Kaito’s eyes remained half-open.

Tetsuo did not move.

But Yoshinori felt something inside his chest loosen anyway.

Hiroto knelt beside Kaito again, his expression grim.

“You look terrible,” he said.

Kaito gave the faintest hint of a tired smile. “I have been worse.”

Hiroto looked down at the poisoned kunai beneath Kaito’s collarbone.

Yumi moved toward the center of the barrier, her hands coming together in front of her chest.

“Mei,” she said. “Keep the barrier steady.”

Mei nodded.

Yumi looked at Hiroto, Akira, and then toward the wounded people gathered across the flooded street.

“I can stabilize them,” she said. “But some of these injuries need more than one healer can give in the middle of a ruined city.”

Hiroto’s face tightened. “Tell us what you need.”

“Space,” Yumi replied. “Quiet. And for no one to die before I reach them.”

Hiroto rose and looked across the barrier.

“Akira, stay near the edge. Nothing gets through without telling us first. Mei, keep this shield up until Yumi says otherwise.” His eyes shifted toward Yoshinori. “You and the others rest. You have done enough.”

Yoshinori looked at all the others around him.

For the first time since the battle began, he believed there might actually be a chance to save them.

Yumi took a slow breath.

Then she began to sing.

Yumi’s voice entered the barrier so softly that, for the first few seconds, Yoshinori thought he was only hearing the wind.

It was a low melody without words, gentle enough that it did not seem like it belonged on a battlefield. The sound moved through the ruined district with a warmth that stood in complete contrast to the cold still clinging to the flooded streets. It passed through the transparent walls of Mei’s barrier, touched the broken stone beneath them, and returned in quiet echoes that made the entire space feel smaller and safer.

Mei stood near the edge of the dome with both hands raised, her spiritual energy spread through the shield around them. As Yumi continued to sing, the violet barrier responded. Faint rings of light moved across its surface, each one following the shape of Yumi’s voice before carrying it back through the space enclosed inside.

The healing did not strike like a wave of force.

It settled over them.

Yoshinori felt it first in his shoulder. The burning ache beneath the cut began to ease, not disappearing, but retreating enough that he could breathe without every movement pulling at the wound. The bleeding along his side slowed. The bruises across his arms remained, and the exhaustion in his body did not lift, but the damage stopped worsening.

Around him, the others began to feel it too.

Daichi lowered himself carefully against a piece of rubble as the worst of the pain in his body softened. Rei’s breathing steadied. Lars pressed his hand against his chest and realized the wound beneath it was no longer bleeding through the cloth as quickly as before. Akima closed her eyes for a moment, letting the song quiet the pounding in her head.

Yuki remained beside Sora, listening without moving.

The ice around the distant market had been terrifying. The battle with Renjiro had left blood near her temple, pain in her side, and exhaustion deep enough that she could barely stand. As Yumi’s voice reached her, the pain faded into something manageable. The wound near her head closed enough that the blood stopped running down her face, but the strange emptiness left behind by her burst of power remained.

Her spiritual energy did not return.

None of theirs did.

Yumi’s song could mend what was broken. It could slow blood loss, close shallow cuts, reduce swelling, and keep damaged bodies from failing before they reached real treatment. It could not restore the power they had spent surviving.

As the melody reached its next note, a faint warmth gathered beneath Aira’s hands over Tetsuo’s chest.

Aira looked down sharply.

The bleeding had slowed.

Not completely. Tetsuo’s body was still badly injured, and the cloth across his chest remained dark with blood, but the wound was no longer worsening beneath her hands.

“He is stabilizing,” Aira whispered.

Ryuji let out a breath that shook on the way out.

Yumi did not stop singing.

Her eyes remained closed as the sound flowed through Mei’s barrier, reaching every wounded person inside it. The music moved over Roki’s unconscious body, easing the damage from his injuries and steadying his breathing. It passed through Ryota’s chest wound, sealing the worst of the torn flesh beneath the bandages without erasing the deep line that would remain after it healed. It reached Lars’s reopened wound and brought the bleeding under control.

Itsuki barely seemed to notice it. The exhaustion in her body softened enough that she no longer looked as though she would collapse where she sat. Yet the emptiness in her eyes did not change.

Mei looked toward her from the edge of the barrier.

“Itsuki,” she said quietly.

Yumi’s voice could heal her body.

It could not reach the place inside her.

Aiko sat with her back against a broken section of stone, her eyes closed as the song eased the pain in her legs and arms. The battle with Reina had left her scraped, bruised, and drained, but those injuries slowly began to close beneath the warmth moving through the barrier.

The scar on the left side of her face did not change.

Yumi’s song softened into silence.

For a few moments, the only sounds inside Mei’s barrier were slow breathing, distant water, and the faint hum of spiritual energy surrounding them.

Yumi crossed the flooded street toward Aiko and crouched beside her.

“Aiko,” she said gently.

Aiko opened her eyes.

Yumi looked at the scar without hiding the concern in her expression..

“I am going to try,” Yumi said.

Aiko swallowed and gave a small nod.

Yumi placed two fingers lightly against the edge of the scar.

Aiko flinched at the contact.

“I am sorry,” Yumi whispered.

Her voice changed.

The next note she sang was quieter than the song that had filled the barrier, but it carried a sharper focus. Mei adjusted the shape of the barrier around them, narrowing the spiritual energy in the air until the sound gathered around Aiko’s face.

For a moment, a pale glow moved beneath Yumi’s fingertips.

The scar did not respond.

The cracks remained exactly where they were.

Yumi tried again, her voice rising slightly as she guided the healing into the damaged skin.

Nothing changed.

Aiko watched her closely.

She already knew what Yumi would say before the healer spoke.

Yumi slowly removed her hand.

“The Rot is still inside the wound,” she said. “It is not spreading, but it is not something I can undo.”

Aiko looked down.

The words hurt more than she expected them to.

For a few seconds, she stared at the water gathered around the broken stone near her feet. Her reflection shook in the surface, broken apart by the faint ripples moving through it. She could see the outline of her face, but the scar seemed darker in the reflection than it did in reality.

Yumi’s voice remained gentle. “I am sorry.”

Aiko lifted her hand toward the mark, then let it rest against the side of her face.

The skin still felt wrong beneath her fingers.

It would keep feeling wrong.

Reina had left something behind that would follow her long after the battle ended.

Aiko closed her eyes for a moment.

Then she lowered her hand.

“It is okay,” she said quietly.

Yumi looked at her.

Aiko’s expression was not calm. The fear was still there. So was the pain. But beneath both of them was the same resolve she had carried back from the ruined market.

“I will remember it,” Aiko continued. “That is enough.”

Yumi nodded.

Then she stood and turned toward Tetsuo.

Ryuji had not moved from his side.

Neither had Itsuki.

Yoshinori sat close enough that his knee touched the torn cloak beneath Tetsuo’s body, watching every step Yumi took toward him. Aira had pulled her hands away from Tetsuo’s chest by then, her remaining energy too low to keep supporting the wound.

Yumi knelt beside him and studied the injuries in silence.

The cut across Tetsuo’s face had stopped bleeding heavily, but the damage around his left eye was severe. The chest wound remained the greater danger. Yumi placed one hand over the cloth covering it and listened closely, as though she could hear his body beneath the quiet.

Then she began to sing again.

This time, the melody was steady and controlled.

Mei strengthened the barrier around them, concentrating the sound around Tetsuo’s body. Warm light gathered over his chest. The wound beneath the cloth tightened. His breathing deepened by the smallest amount, and the weak rhythm beneath Ryuji’s fingers became steadier.

Ryuji’s head lifted.

“Is he going to wake up?”

Yumi did not look away from Tetsuo.

“Not soon,” she said.

Yoshinori’s throat tightened. “Can you heal him?”

“I can keep him alive long enough to travel,” Yumi replied. “But he needs to go back to the Kingdom of Radiance immediately. His chest injury is too serious, and the damage to his face needs more than I can give him here.”

Ryuji looked toward Tetsuo’s left eye.

Yumi’s expression softened, but she did not lie.

“I cannot restore that,” she said quietly.

Itsuki stared at Tetsuo’s face.

Yoshinori lowered his eyes.

Ryuji’s hand tightened around the edge of the cloak beneath Tetsuo.

Even unconscious, Tetsuo’s brow shifted faintly as Yumi’s healing worked through him. His body remained still, but his breathing was no longer so weak that everyone had to watch for it.

Yumi slowly pulled her hands away.

“He is stable for now,” she said. “But we cannot wait.”

Hiroto nodded from nearby. “We will not.”

Yumi rose and looked toward Kaito.

He had not said anything since she began healing the others. His body remained pressed against the fallen masonry, one hand resting near his katana while the other stayed close to the poisoned kunai beneath his collarbone.

The paralysis had not spread farther, but it had not released him either.

Yumi’s face tightened as she approached.

“Kaito,” she said.

His eyes shifted toward her.

“You waited until everyone else was treated,” he said quietly.

“They needed the song,” Yumi replied. “You need something different.”

Kaito glanced down at the kunai in his shoulder.

“It is a paralytic poison,” he said.

“I know.”

Hiroto moved closer immediately. “Do you need me to hold him?”

Kaito gave him a tired look. “I am not going anywhere.”

Yumi knelt beside Kaito and studied the wound. The kunai had entered beneath his collarbone, deep enough that removing it carelessly would cause more damage. The poison had spread through his shoulder and down his arm, leaving the muscles stiff and unresponsive.

Yumi placed one hand over Kaito’s chest and the other just below the wound.

“Do not move,” she said.

Kaito gave a faint, humorless breath. “That is not difficult right now.”

Yumi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I am serious.”

For the first time, something almost apologetic passed through Kaito’s expression.

“I know.”

Yumi closed her eyes.

Mei shifted closer, adjusting the barrier until the air around Kaito became still. The sound inside the dome narrowed, gathering around the poison in his bloodstream instead of spreading through the group.

Yumi raised both hands over the poisoned wound.

A soft vibration formed between her palms, almost too quiet to hear at first. Then the sound deepened into focused waves of spiritual energy, flowing directly from her hands and into Kaito’s shoulder.

A faint red glow emerged beneath the skin around the kunai wound. It spread along his shoulder and down his arm in thin lines, tracing the poison where it had taken hold. Kaito’s jaw tightened immediately.

Hiroto stepped closer.

“Kaito?”

“I am fine,” Kaito said, though his voice had gone strained.

The red glow beneath Kaito’s skin darkened, then began retreating toward the wound. His fingers twitched against the flooded stone. The stiffness in his arm shifted, and his shoulder jerked once as feeling returned through the numb muscles.

Kaito inhaled sharply.

Yumi did not stop.

The poison gathered beneath the kunai, drawn back toward the place where it had entered. When the red glow had condensed around the wound, Yumi opened her eyes.

“Hiroto,” she said. “Hold him steady.”

Hiroto dropped to one knee behind Kaito and braced one hand against his uninjured shoulder.

Kaito’s eyes narrowed.

“You enjoy this too much.”

“I enjoy you staying alive.”

Yumi placed her hand around the kunai’s handle.

“On three,” she said.

Kaito looked at her. “There is no reason to count.”

“That was not permission to make this worse.”

She pulled the kunai free.

Kaito’s body tensed sharply, but he did not make a sound.

Yumi immediately pressed her palm over the wound. The bleeding slowed, then stopped beneath the warmth of her healing. The last traces of red light beneath Kaito’s skin faded away.

For several seconds, he remained motionless.

Then his right hand moved.

His fingers curled once against the wet stone.

He lifted the arm slowly, testing the movement.

The paralysis was gone.

Hiroto exhaled through his nose. “Good.”

Kaito leaned his head back against the rubble, eyes closing for a moment.

Yumi studied him carefully.

“The poison is gone,” she said. “But you are still injured, exhausted, and running on almost nothing. Do not mistake being able to move for being able to fight.”

Kaito opened one eye.

“I was not planning to fight.”

Yumi gave him a look.

Hiroto answered for him. “He is lying.”

Once Yumi had finished treating the wounded, Hiroto did not allow the silence inside Mei’s barrier to last.

“We are splitting the return,” he said. “The Aurelhorns leave first with the critical patients. They can reach the Kingdom of Radiance far ahead of any standard carriage, and Tetsuo does not have time to lose.”

Ryuji looked down at Tetsuo, whose breathing had become steady enough that it no longer needed to be watched every second. The relief did not make the sight of him easier.

“I am going with him,” Ryuji said.

Hiroto nodded without hesitation. “You are.”

Yumi stood near Tetsuo’s side, her expression calm but tired. The healing song had taken effort from her as well, though she had hidden it better than most. “I will remain in the Aurelhorn carriage. Tetsuo needs to be monitored the entire way, and I need to keep an eye on Sora.”

Yuki’s eyes moved toward Sora immediately.

“I will stay with him.”

Sora remained unconscious beneath the blankets Yumi had placed over him. The black veins along his neck and arm had faded slightly after the healing, but they remained visible enough to keep everyone uneasy.

Hiroto looked over the patients who would be traveling in the Gilded Blades’ carriage. Tetsuo needed to lie flat. Roki still had not woken. Sora needed to be contained and watched. Ryota could survive the trip, but his chest wound made a normal carriage too dangerous. Kaito was no longer paralyzed, yet he was still badly injured and too exhausted to travel without Yumi nearby.

Hiroto’s gaze rested on the cloak-covered body for a moment before he spoke.

“Hikari goes with them too,” he said. “We bring them home properly.”

Ryota closed his eyes.

He did not say anything, but one hand tightened around the blanket over his chest.

Yumi stepped closer to him. “You will be placed beside Hikari. You should not be alone during the ride.”

Ryota gave a small nod.

Hiroto turned toward the others. “The rest of you will use the Coastal Kingdom’s carriages. I have already sent word through the guards. Two are coming down from the upper districts. Take what you need and make sure no one is left behind.”

At the mention of leaving, Yoshinori looked up.

Yoshinori’s gaze drifted past Hiroto toward the approaching line of Coastal Kingdom carriages. For a moment, they all looked the same, weathered wood, faded paint, reinforced frames built for rough roads.

Then he saw it.

Illumina’s carriage.

It had been left behind in the Third Layer when everything began. Somehow, it had made its way here among the others.

Yoshinori stared at it for a moment longer than he meant to.

The sight of it felt like something from another life.

He did not say anything.

He only nodded once, as if confirming it was real, before turning back to the others.

“You will coordinate the remaining passengers,” he said. “Make sure no one is left behind.”

Yoshinori nodded. “I will.”

Akira had remained quiet near Sora throughout the discussion.

Her golden armor was still streaked with dust from the journey, and one hand rested near the hilt of her weapon. She looked composed from a distance, but Yoshinori noticed the way her fingers had tightened when Hiroto mentioned Sora’s condition.

She stepped closer to Yuki.

“You said Renjiro used the Hell Scythe on him,” Akira said.

Yuki looked at her. “Yes.”

Akira’s eyes moved to the black veins beneath Sora’s skin. For a moment, her expression did not change. Then her shoulders drew tighter beneath the armor.

“I know what that weapon can do,” she said.

Her voice was controlled, but something unsteady passed beneath it.

Yuki lowered her gaze. “Can he be saved?”

“I do not know,” Akira said. “The people Renjiro corrupted before were knights under my command. They were people I had trained with, fought beside, and trusted with the lives of everyone around them.”

Her hand closed around the hilt of her sword.

“When the corruption took hold, they stopped recognizing me. They stopped recognizing each other. I waited too long because I thought there had to be another way, and when I finally understood what was happening, I had to kill them myself.”

Yuki’s face went pale.

Akira looked down at Sora again. The pain in her expression lasted only a moment before she forced it away.

“But Sora is still breathing,” she continued. “He is unconscious. You stopped him without killing him, and you gave him time. That is more than I had.”

Yuki’s eyes filled, though she blinked the tears back before they fell.

“I was scared,” she said.

“You were supposed to be,” Akira replied. “That does not mean you failed him.”

The words seemed to settle somewhere inside Yuki, though they did not ease all of her fear.

Akira turned to Hiroto. “I will travel with the remaining carriages. Mei can reinforce them and keep a shield around the convoy. If anyone follows, they will not reach the wounded without going through us.”

Hiroto nodded. “Good. I am taking the Aurelhorns ahead with Yumi. The critical patients need to reach Radiance before night.”

Kaito shifted against the fallen stone where he had been resting.

“You should not split the team,” he said.

Yumi looked at him immediately. “You should not be giving orders while your body is still recovering from poison.”

Kaito’s gaze remained on Hiroto. “If Tsubasa has people watching the roads-”

“Then Akira and Mei handle the roads,” Hiroto cut in. “You handle surviving the ride.”

Kaito looked as though he wanted to argue. Then his eyes moved toward Tetsuo, Sora, and the others who needed immediate care.

He lowered his head slightly.

“Fine,” he said.

The sound of wheels reached them from the main road a few minutes later.

The first carriage belonged to the Coastal Kingdom. Its paint was faded blue, and its wooden sides had been reinforced with extra planks after years of travel along the kingdom’s uneven coastal routes. A second followed behind it, carrying blankets, water, and supplies gathered from the upper districts.

The third carriage arrived last. It was Illumina’s.

Yoshinori recognized it before he could see the driver’s face.

The driver guided the carriage down the damaged street slowly, careful of the rubble and floodwater. He had been waiting in the Third Layer with the carriage since the battle began, keeping it away from the damaged districts while the city tried to understand what was happening.

At first, he lifted one hand toward Yoshinori in greeting, but when he saw the group, the hand slowly lowered.

He pulled the carriage to a stop and sat still for several seconds.

When he finally climbed down, his face had gone pale.

“I kept the carriage safe,” he said quietly.

Yoshinori swallowed. “Thank you.”

The driver looked toward the ruined district behind them. The distant streets still showed the aftermath of the barrier, the floodwater, and the collapsed buildings. Then he looked back at the young guild members he had driven across the continent only days earlier.

The driver’s expression softened.

“I drove you here,” he said. “I can drive you back.”

Yoshinori looked at him.

The man took a breath and straightened his shoulders.

“I will get you home safely. Whatever it takes.”

“Thank you,” Yoshinori said again.

The driver looked toward the others.

“You kids held this kingdom together when it was falling apart,” he said. “Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. You are heroes, and heroes deserve to make it home.”

Yoshinori’s eyes moved toward the space where Shunjiro should have been.

The driver followed his gaze but did not ask who was missing.

He only opened the carriage door and began preparing the seats.

The Gilded Blades’ carriage had been built to carry a full team, weapons, and supplies over long distances. Its benches folded against the walls, leaving enough open space for blankets and makeshift stretchers. Hiroto and Yumi worked quickly, clearing the equipment racks and laying padded bedding across the floor.

Tetsuo was carried in first.

Ryuji stayed close as Hiroto and Daichi lifted him carefully, keeping his body steady while Yumi guided them into the carriage. Once Tetsuo had been placed down, Ryuji settled beside him without waiting to be told.

Roki was carried in next.

Then Sora.

Yuki climbed in after him and took the space closest to his side. She sat with one hand resting against the edge of his blanket, not touching him directly but remaining close enough to know he was still there.

Ryota entered with assistance from Hiroto and Akira. He moved slowly, his face tightening when the strain reached his chest, but he did not complain. Yumi placed him near Hikari, whose body had been lifted into the carriage with care and covered once more in a clean cloak.

Kaito was the last to enter.

“You haven’t slept in days,” Yumi said, her voice soft but firm. “Your body is already past its limit.”

Kaito’s jaw tightened. “There’s still too much-”

“There always will be,” Hiroto cut in. “That doesn’t mean you keep pushing until you collapse.”

Yumi stepped closer, meeting Kaito’s gaze. “You’ve done enough. Let us handle things for a while.”

Kaito didn’t respond.

“You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she continued. “Not anymore.”

There was a long silence.

Kaito’s shoulders, tense since the battle, finally lowered just slightly.

“…Fine,” he said quietly.

After a moment, he allowed Hiroto to guide him into the carriage. He sat near the front wall, close enough for Yumi to monitor the wound beneath his collarbone. This time, he didn’t resist when she adjusted his position or placed a blanket over him.

His eyes lingered on the others for a moment.

Then, slowly, they closed.

When everyone had been settled, Yumi moved through the carriage one last time. She checked Tetsuo’s breathing, adjusted the blanket over Roki, watched the faint rise and fall of Sora’s chest, and pressed two fingers against Ryota’s wrist.

Then she looked at Hiroto.

“We can leave.”

Hiroto nodded.

Outside, Mei had lowered the large barrier around the ruined district and replaced it with smaller protective layers around the normal carriages. The shields were not as strong as the dome she had created for the wounded, but they would protect the vehicles from loose debris, sudden weather, and any threat that did not strike with overwhelming force.

Akira moved to the lead carriage, her hand resting on the side of the door.

Daichi, Rei, Aira, Lars, and Akima were divided between the two borrowed Coastal Kingdom carriages, each one wrapped in blankets and given water before they climbed inside. Their bodies had been stabilized, but none of them had the strength to protest the seating arrangements.

Aiko entered Illumina’s original carriage first.

She chose the seat beside the window and sat quietly, keeping her scarred side turned toward the glass. Yoshinori followed her, then helped Itsuki inside. Itsuki did not resist him, but she did not speak either. She sat in the place where she had once spent hours talking to Shunjiro about the road ahead.

Now she only looked out at the Coastal Kingdom.

Yoshinori climbed in last and paused near the door.

The carriage felt too large with only three of them inside.

Tetsuo and Ryuji were in the Aurelhorn carriage. Shunjiro was somewhere beyond their reach. The empty spaces around them seemed to carry more weight than the passengers who remained.

The driver noticed Yoshinori looking at the vacant seats.

“I will take it easy on the first stretch,” he said gently. “You have a long road ahead.”

Yoshinori nodded. “Thank you.”

Hiroto climbed onto the front of the Aurelhorn carriage and took the reinforced reins. The two creatures shifted beneath their pale-gold harnesses, their ivory antlers catching the morning sunlight. Spiritual energy hummed through the leather and metal around their chests, ready to turn every movement into impossible speed.

Akira approached the side of the carriage before it departed.

Her eyes found Kaito through the open window.

“We will keep the others safe,” she said.

Kaito gave a faint nod.

Then Akira looked at Yuki.

“Do not let fear make decisions for you,” she said quietly. “Stay beside Sora. Watch him. But remember that you are still hurt too.”

Yuki held her gaze.

“I will.”

Akira stepped back.

Hiroto looked over the remaining carriages one final time.

“Akira, Mei, you take the convoy,” he said. “Use the northern road once you clear the city. Avoid the old bridge near the coast. The recent flooding may have weakened it.”

Mei nodded. “We will meet you in Radiance.”

Hiroto tightened his grip on the reins.

The Aurelhorns moved.

At first, they stepped forward with controlled strength, their hooves splashing through the remaining water in the street. Then the reinforced harnesses flashed with pale light, and the carriage surged ahead.

Within seconds, it was gone beyond the broken buildings, carrying the people who needed the Kingdom of Radiance most urgently.

Yoshinori watched it disappear through the window of Illumina’s carriage.

For a moment, he saw only the empty road left behind.

Then the driver climbed onto his seat, gathered the reins, and looked back through the open window.

“Hold on,” he said. “I will get you there.”

The normal carriages began to move.

Mei’s barriers shimmered around them as Akira took position near the front, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Behind them, the Coastal Kingdom remained under the morning sun, wounded and changed but still standing.

Yoshinori looked once more toward the distant ruins.

They had come to the Coastal Kingdom as a guild preparing for a mission.

They were leaving with scars that would follow them for the rest of their lives.

No one celebrated their survival.

No one spoke about victory.

The wheels carried them away from the kingdom anyway, toward Radiance, toward healing, and toward the people they had not been able to save.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Suzu woke to the sound of a chain moving against stone.

The pain from the battle was still there, buried beneath a deeper numbness that ran through her limbs. Her muscles ached as though she had been fighting for days without rest, yet the exhaustion was not what held her down. Something colder had settled over her spiritual energy, pressing it flat beneath her skin until even the smallest attempt to reach for it ended in a sharp, empty resistance.

Her wrists were bound above the level of her waist.

Metal restraints circled both arms, connected by a short length of chain that allowed little movement. Similar shackles held her ankles in place. A thick band of dark metal rested around her neck.

Suzu opened her eyes.

The room around her was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. Its flame was low, casting weak gold across stone walls that had no windows and no decoration. There was no sound beyond the room itself. No voices in nearby corridors. No wind beneath a door. Nothing that told her where she was or how far they had taken her from the Coastal Kingdom.

Her crimson eyes shifted toward her hands.

The restraints were covered in thin markings that ran across the metal like veins. They were unfamiliar, but she understood their purpose the moment she tried to move her spiritual energy again.

The chains drank it before she could use it.

A pulse of anger moved through her.

Blood gathered against the side of one wrist, rising from beneath her skin in a trembling red line.

The moment it touched the metal, the power collapsed.

The blood fell onto the stone floor.

Tsubasa Astoria sat several feet away in a wooden chair, one leg crossed over the other. He looked untouched by the battle that had destroyed half a district and scattered the people who had fought against him. His cloak rested neatly around his shoulders. His black hair, marked by a distinct white patch, had been pushed back from his face, and his mismatched eyes, one a deep purple, the other a pale white held the same quiet confidence he had always worn.

He had been waiting for her to wake.

“You are conscious sooner than I expected,” Tsubasa said.

Suzu did not answer.

The corruption inside her shifted.

It was no longer the mindless hunger that had taken control during the battle. She could think now. She could understand where she was. She could feel fear, anger, and the sharp pull of memory.

She remembered Itsuki.

She remembered Shunjiro.

She remembered the battlefield.

Then she remembered the blood.

Her fingers tightened against the chains.

“What did you do to me?” she asked.

Her voice was rough, but it was her own.

Tsubasa watched her for a moment before replying. “Nothing you had not already done to yourself.”

Suzu’s eyes narrowed.

The answer made something in her chest twist.

The corruption had not disappeared. She could feel it beneath every thought, waiting for anger to become violence and violence to become something she could no longer control. Holding it back took effort. It felt like keeping a door shut while something on the other side kept throwing itself against it.

She forced herself to breathe slowly.

“Where am I?”

“That is not important yet.”

“It is important to me.”

Tsubasa gave a faint smile. “You will learn that there are things more important than what you want.”

Suzu pulled against the chains.

The restraints rattled, but the metal did not move. Pain spread through her wrists as the markings flared with a dull gray light, draining away the spiritual energy she tried to force into her muscles.

Tsubasa did not react.

“You cannot use your power while those are on,” he said. “Trying will only hurt you.”

“Take them off.”

“No.”

Suzu’s breathing sharpened, and the corruption inside her stirred again. A low laugh almost rose in her throat, one that did not feel like it belonged to her. She swallowed it down before it could escape.

For the first time, Tsubasa’s expression changed. The faint smile disappeared, leaving something flatter behind it.

“You are going to join the Eclipsed Abyss.”

Suzu stared at him.

The name settled in the silence between them.

“You will work under him,” Tsubasa continued, “and you will help us achieve his goal.”

Suzu’s expression hardened. “Who is he?”

Tsubasa looked toward the lantern hanging above them.

“The person who gave all of this direction.”

“That does not answer my question.”

“It is the only answer you need.”

Suzu pulled against the restraints again, harder this time. Pain shot through her arms as the suppressing marks lit up beneath her skin.

Tsubasa remained where he was.

“You are wasting your strength.”

“I am not working for anyone.”

“You will.”

Suzu’s eyes flashed crimson in the dim room.

“No.”

Tsubasa stood.

The chair scraped softly against the stone as he moved toward her. Suzu watched him approach without lowering her gaze. Every part of her body wanted to strike him. The corruption wanted to tear through the restraints, fill the room with blood, and bury him beneath enough force that nothing would remain.

But the chains held her energy down.

All she could do was sit there.

Tsubasa stopped directly in front of her.

He was close enough that she could see the calm in his mismatched eyes, and that calm frightened her more than anger would have. There was no hesitation in him. No doubt. He spoke as though her future had already been decided, as though her refusal was only a sound he expected to hear before she understood her place.

“You will learn to be obedient,” he said.

Suzu’s jaw tightened.

Tsubasa reached down and caught her chin in his hand.

His grip was firm enough that she could not turn away. He forced her face upward until she had no choice but to look directly at him.

“You will do what you are told,” he continued. “You will not run. You will not betray the people beside you. You will not interfere with his goal.”

Suzu tried to pull away, but the chair kept her still.

Tsubasa’s fingers tightened slightly against her jaw.

“You are valuable,” he said. “More valuable than you understand.”

His eyes moved briefly toward the chains around her wrists.

“Your blood ability alone is worth protecting. You can create weapons, barriers, and attacks that most people could never survive. Your spiritual energy is already at an SS-ranked level, and you are still young. Given time, you will become far stronger than you are now.”

Suzu’s expression remained filled with hatred.

Tsubasa did not seem bothered by it.

“You will reach SSS rank,” he said. “You will become someone this world cannot ignore. The Eclipsed Abyss needs people like you, and I look forward to seeing what you become when you stop fighting the path in front of you.”

Suzu’s breath caught for a moment.

The corruption pressed harder against her mind.

She could feel its hunger responding to his words. It did not care about freedom. It wanted strength. It wanted blood. It wanted the chance to become something no one could restrain.

Suzu forced the thought away.

“What about the corruption?” she asked.

Tsubasa’s hand remained beneath her chin.

“The corruption does not matter.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It is inside me.”

“Yes.”

“It makes me lose control.”

Tsubasa studied her for a moment.

“Then learn control.”

Suzu’s expression twisted.

“You do not understand what it feels like.”

“No,” Tsubasa said. “I understand exactly what matters.”

He leaned closer, his voice lowering without becoming softer.

“As long as you do not betray your comrades and do not try to run, you will not have to worry about him becoming angry.”

The words settled heavily over her.

Suzu stopped fighting the restraints.

Uncertainty crossed her face.

“Him,” she said quietly.

Tsubasa’s expression did not change.

“Our existence in this world is to help him achieve his goal,” he said. “That is absolute.”

The room felt colder.

Suzu looked down at the chain around her neck. The dark metal sat against her skin like a reminder that she had already been reduced to something they could lock away and transport wherever they wanted.

She thought of Itsuki again.

Of the look on her sister’s face before everything went wrong.

Now he was telling her that her life belonged to someone she had never met.

Suzu’s lips parted, but no answer came.

The resistance inside her did not disappear.

She understood that fighting blindly would not free her. It would only give the corruption more control and give Tsubasa another excuse to keep the chains on her. For now, she had no power. No idea where she was. No way to reach anyone outside the room.

Tsubasa released her chin.

Suzu’s head remained tilted upward for a moment before she slowly lowered it.

Tsubasa watched her carefully.

“You understand,” he said.

Suzu did not agree, and she did not say she would obey, but she also did not pull against the restraints again.

That was enough for him.

A faint smile returned to Tsubasa’s face.

He placed one hand on top of her head and patted her hair once, almost gently.

“If you need anything,” he said, “you can come to me.”

Suzu’s hands curled into fists against the chains.

Tsubasa turned away from her and walked toward the door.

Before he left, he stopped with one hand on the handle.

“You will have time to rest,” he said without looking back. “When you are ready, we will begin.”

The door opened.

A narrow strip of light entered the room, then disappeared as the door shut behind him.

The sound of the lock turning echoed through the darkness.

Suzu remained alone.

For several seconds, she stared at the door.

Then she looked down at the chains around her wrists.

The corruption still moved beneath her skin, restless and hungry, but she held it back with everything she had left.

Slowly, Suzu raised her head.

Her crimson eyes opened fully in the dark.