"It's over," Rhanes exhaled, his breath misting in the frigid air.

  "Not until we find the sword," Kuro replied grimly.

  "Mm, of course."

  Kuro strode ahead to confront Daro, who was struggling to rise despite the knife embedded deep in his back. Meanwhile, Rhanes and the limping Fenric made their way toward Parmad, who had collapsed several meters away. Rhanes remembered the devastating blow he'd delivered, and a knot of worry tightened in his chest—had he killed the man?

  As they walked, Fenric broke the silence. "Boss?"

  Hm?"

  "Can you throw a knife that far?"

  "I've never tried, but... probably not."

  "I see."

  The silence returned, heavy with unspoken questions.

  When they reached Parmad, Rhanes felt a wave of relief—the man wasn't dead, but he was dying. His teeth were shattered, blood streaming from his nose, his consciousness fled. "We have to heal him soon, or he won't make it," Rhanes said, genuine concern lacing his voice.

  Fenric reached into his pockets, withdrew a small vial, and poured its contents into Parmad's mouth. "Dawn-stall," he explained. "It'll keep him alive a little longer."

  "Good. Thank God you came with us." Rhanes clapped his hand on Fenric's back.

  "Ouch!"

  "Oh—sorry, you're hurt too. Why don't you rest here and watch Parmad? I'll see what's happening on Kuro's side."

  "Sure." Fenric settled himself near the unconscious Parmad.

  The snow began falling more heavily now, swirling in thick curtains across the battlefield.

  Kuro reached Daro, who was crawling pathetically toward the left side of the pathway, trying to hide beneath the accumulating snow.

  "Are you sure that's a good idea?" Kuro's voice was cold.

  Daro jerked but continued crawling.

  "Rather than be killed by me, you want to die from the cold? No—you're just a coward, grasping for your measly life."

  Kuro closed the distance, lifted his right foot, and placed it deliberately on the knife protruding from Daro's back. He pressed down lightly.

  "Ahhhn—ahhhhh!" Daro's scream was low and tortured.

  "One question. Just one. Where is my blade? Answer, and you may die painlessly." He pressed harder, inch by inch. "I can see you don't have it. Where is it?"

  Through his agony, Daro tried to laugh. "Haha—nnngh—we destroyed it... crushed it to dust... hehe..." He struggled to maintain his bravado.

  "Do you remember what I told you yesterday? Pluck... hammer... dig... what else?" Kuro's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Doesn't matter. Do you want me to practice on you? Where is my weapon?" He pressed his foot down harder, driving the knife deeper.

  Daro, cold and bloody, began to shake. "Monster... monster..." he repeated, his voice breaking.

  "Going crazy? Weapon, shithead! My weapon!"

  "Ahhhhhhhhh!" Daro screamed, breathing heavily as his vision began to fade. He managed to glance back past Kuro.

  He let out a small, relieved breath. Kuro noticed and looked back—Rhanes was closing in, his massive hammer in hand, his expression tense.

  "You fucking bastard! Forget the weapon—you're dying now!" Kuro raised his foot to stomp down, to drive the knife straight into Daro's heart.

  "STOP! Kuro, stop!" Rhanes' voice echoed across the snow.

  Kuro froze, his foot suspended in mid-air.

  "If you kill him, you'll become a murderer. What you're doing—it's not self-defense anymore. Please, step back, friend. If you do this deed, I'll have to arrest you." Rhanes tightened his grip on the hammer.

  Kuro stood motionless for several long moments before finally stepping back.

  "He... hehe... hehe..." Daro laughed weakly, his voice sick with relief.

  Thank you, "The sword?" Rhanes asked Kuro.

  "It seems they hid it somewhere. Pretty sure it's nearby, but..."

  "Yes. The snow has already covered most of the battle scars."

  "That waffle guy—what about him?"

  "He passed out."

  "Then our only choice is this ugly bastard."

  "Yeah, but I don't think he can answer either. Look at him."

  "Tch." Kuro's frustration was palpable.

  "Wait—Fenric! He can help."

  "How?"

  "His nose. He knows the smell of Mosrel horn—he can track it."

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "Maybe, but I thought his nose was dead?"

  "Not dead—numbed. The hellebore ash should be wearing off by now. Why don't you go to him? I'll stay here and see if I can get anything out of this one."

  "Mm. Sure."

  Kuro made his way back to where he'd left Fenric. "Fenric," he called out.

  No response.

  Kuro drew closer. "Oi! Don't you hear me, Fenric?" He slapped the beast-man's head lightly. "What, are you dead?"

  The head moved slowly forward with clean, unnatural precision—and then separated from the body, tumbling down into the snow, rotating until it faced Kuro.

  Fenric's eyes were open, staring directly at him. The blood trail had stopped impossibly, frozen in place.

  Kuro's body went rigid with shock. "What—what was that? Fenric?...What happened? Wh—what's going on?"

  Suddenly, everything—the snow, the trees, the sky—was cloaked in absolute darkness. Kuro looked around wildly, lost and confused. His feet began to sink into the ground. The sun turned completely black. He tried to pull free but couldn't. He grasped at nothing, his panic total. The cold became blades carving across every inch of his skin—he should have been bleeding, but he wasn't.

  "Rhanes? RHANES!" he shouted. No response.

  Kuro's face twisted into an expression he had never worn before—pure, primal terror.

  Then a voice came, deep and resonant:

  "VINCENT KARL."

  "Kuro—what?! Who—where are you, who the fuckk ?! Show yourself!" He darted his gaze everywhere until his eyes met Fenric's. The beast-man's canine eyes glowed dark red, and he was smiling—an ominous, wrong smile. His mouth moved, and the voice issued forth:

  "I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOUR LITTLE             ADVENTURES... MM, DISAPPOINTING."

  What?....

  "A SHADOW MIMICS THE MAN, BUT ONLY THE WEIGHT OF      THE WRECKAGE PROVES THE MOUNTAIN."

  "KARL. NO—KURO. UNTIL THEN."

  The voice boomed and echoed with a terrifying distortion.

  Everything collapsed inward, sucked into a single point in an instant.

  Kuro snapped back to reality, drenched in sweat, looking everywhere frantically. The ground, the sky—everything was normal.

  "Fenric?"

  He looked down. Fenric was alive, sitting in the same position as before.

  Fenric spoke irritably. "Now you notice me? Now you speak, after everything's over, you finally look at me?"

  It was as if not even a second had passed.

  He scanned Fenric's neck, searching for the cut—but there was nothing. No wound, no blood. What was that? An illusion? A dream?

  A wave of dizziness washed over him, and then he felt it: a sharp, insistent pain radiating from his right hand where the spiral thorn mark was embedded. His breath caught. The mark wasn't static anymore—he could feel it moving, writhing beneath his skin, creeping up his hand under his coat sleeve like something alive.

  "Kuro, are you listening? KURO!"

  Kuro blinked, still flabbergasted. "Um... what?"

  "What do you mean, what? Can't you see I'm hurt?" Fenric stood, limping dramatically. "Did you even ask what happened to me? How I was doing? And when this bastard"—he kicked Parmad with his wounded leg—"ouch!—threatened to kill me, you were like, 'Kill that dog for all I care!' I don't know if that was an act or your real feelings! I thought we were friends, team partners! I can't believe—"

  He went on and on, throwing a full-blown tantrum.

  Kuro, who had been shaken to his core moments before, felt a smile tug at his lips despite everything. "Shut the fuck up, man. Jesus. Sorry, okay? I was just battle-focused, that's all."

  Tears began flowing down Fenric's face. "Really? Then you do care about me?"

  "Uh... um... of course. We're partners, right? Wipe your snot—it's disgusting." (Whether he truly meant it, only the future would tell.)

  "Hehe." Fenric wiped his face happily. "So, do you need something? Sorry I was mostly a hindrance on this mission."

  "Yeah, tell me about it." Fenric's face began to darken. "Oh, shit—but you can prove your worth now by being useful."

  "Hm?" His eyes glinted. "Anything."

  "Is your nose back to normal?"

  "Mostly."

  "Good. These fuckers hid the horn somewhere. Sniff it out. For a half-beast like you, it's a piece of cake, right?"

  "Of course! Leave it to me."

  Fenric began sniffing, pinpointing the horn's scent. The Gyre Silver coursed through him—he shut down his hearing to amplify his sense of smell. He started to run, tail swinging, limping through the pain, until he stopped at a clearing and began digging, revealing a hole.

  Kuro followed. "What? It's here?"

  "Yes. A Sulversnout Rabbit—they like to steal whatever intrigues them. That bastard didn't hide it; it was stolen from him! Haha, ironic."

  Kuro moved to reach into the hole.

  "No! If you want your hand intact, don't do that. They're stealers, yes, but that doesn't mean they're not dangerous. They're carnivores—they can rip your arm off in seconds. Good thing they don't form herds. Just imagine that... ohhh..." He shivered dramatically.

  "Fine. What's the plan, then?"

  "Don't worry—the rabbit's not home. We can just dig it up and get it. Simple."

  Kuro stared at Fenric with a look that said, I should've let you die.

  "Okay, okay! Don't look at me like that. I'm just messing around." He started digging in earnest.

  Rhanes had chained both Daro and Parmad together on the side of the path, waiting for the guards he'd called. They arrived shortly in a steel wagon with a cage. He handed over the criminals, exchanged brief words, and returned to Kuro and Fenric.

  "Hurry up—the storm's picking up," Kuro said, glancing at Fenric's leg. "You sure you can manage?"

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. The gash is closing up—beast blood and all that—but don't expect me to start dancing. Still hurts like hell."

  After a while, Fenric entered the burrow and retrieved the sword, still sheathed. Rhanes arrived just in time and stretched out his hand. "Give it here," he said, as if asking for a newborn child.

  Fenric carefully placed the sword in his hand.

  Holding it, Rhanes turned to Kuro. "Here. Thirty years of hard work—forging weapons, adventuring, gathering materials to make this. It's yours."

  Kuro reached out and took the sword, glancing at it carefully.

  "I haven't named it yet. I want you to name it, since it was your find. Do you have a name in mind?"

  Kuro unsheathed the blade, it looked with Pristine perfection. The fading sun's light reflected across his face. "Yes."

  "Really? What is it?" Rhanes asked eagerly.

  "Drill Sword." Kuro looked proud. He regained his posture but still shaken under.

  "Huuuuuhhhhh?!" Fenric and Rhanes exclaimed in unison. "Are you serious? No—no, no, no, no, no! No way a godlike weapon gets that name!"

  "I mean, it's just a sword. Does it need to be named?"

  "Yes! Names are very important. As your senior, I'm telling you—let's try again."

  "Hmm. Fine. Fenric, I've got nothing. You name it."

  "Me? Are you sure? But I was nothing but—"

  "Blah blah. Just name it."

  Fenric smiled, looking genuinely happy. "Thanks. I promise I won't disappoint you."

  "Any name's fine, really."

  "No, it's not." Fenric studied the horn—every detail, every line of its history. He thought deeply.

  "Spark—I've got it! How about MOSVMORA? It means 'Moon of Mosrel and Ravmor.' What do you think?"

  As the final syllable left Fenric's lips, the screaming wind ceased. The snow stopped its violent dance and began falling straight down, peaceful and soft.

  Kuro glanced up, then at the blade. "Huh."

  Fenric's tail went rigid. "Did... did the storm just—"

  "It approved," Rhanes said quietly, staring at the weapon with newfound reverence.

  "It works, I guess," Kuro replied absently.

  Fenric looked at kuro happily, then turned to look to Rhanes—and his expression froze.

  Rhanes had gone very still, deep in thought. He used Mosrel's name, but why Ravmor? Did he know about the blood? Wait—his nose. He probably smelled it. He looked at Fenric with a knowing expression.

  Fenric suddenly realized what he'd said. Oh boy. He glanced nervously at Kuro.

  But Kuro didn't catch it. His thoughts were entirely elsewhere.

  That voice called my real name. I'm sure of it now—whatever monster owns that voice is the one that dragged me into this fucking world.

  The spiral mark keeps crawling up my arm, inch by inch. But where is it going? It doesn't move constantly—something triggers it. One thing I know for certain: I have to get rid of this thing before it reaches its destination.