Ella stood over the fallen Crown Horn King, her mind working through the inconsistencies. The horned orcs had grown stronger mid-battle—impossibly so. The King had spoken with intelligence, even mumbled something that sounded like... magic? She crouched beside the massive corpse, searching for evidence, but found nothing concrete. No marks. No residue. No explanation.

  She scratched her head, frustration mounting.

  Then she felt it.

  An ominous presence materialized among the orc corpses, heavy and deliberate.

  She spun toward it. A lone figure walked through the carnage, silhouetted against the settling sun, shadows pooling around them like living things.

  Ella moved forward to intercept, but stopped halfway as movement erupted from the treeline. The villagers were emerging. Among them, the mother clutching her daughter—the pair Kuro had told to run.

  The devastated survivors scattered across the battlefield, searching desperately for family among the dead. The small crowd swelled and spread between Ella and the stranger.

  Her eyes darted back.

  Gone.

  She rushed forward, pushing through the gathering villagers, but found no trace. Nothing.

  The survivors noticed her then. They swarmed, voices breaking with gratitude. "Thank you for saving us." Their words carried the weight of lost homes, lost families. Tears streaked faces smudged with ash and blood.

  Ella's eyes stung. She stood frozen among them, drowning in their mourning, not knowing how to respond. How harsh she'd been with them during the battle echoed in her mind like accusation.

  The presence returned.

  This time beside the fallen King.

  Ella's head snapped toward it—and again, it vanished.

  Who was that?

  "You." She called to the mother holding her daughter. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have some questions. I know the situation isn't—"

  "It's okay." The woman's face was smudged with dirt and tears, but her eyes held gratitude. "You and that man saved us. My daughter is alive because of him. I'm happy to help."

  "Thank you. It's nothing major—there was someone standing here a minute ago. Did you catch any glimpse of them?"

  "Yes, now that you mention it, where did he go? I saw him standing near the bodies when we first came out of the woods. I thought he was from the capital, come to save us."

  "He? From the capital? Why do you think that?"

  "No particular reason. It's just... he was wearing a fancy coat and dress, with a hat on his head. He looked like a noble, but I'm not sure. I'm just saying what I think."

  "No, no—it's okay. That helps. Thank you."

  The woman nodded and moved to join her daughter.

  Ella stood alone, her mind churning. From the capital? Who?

  The missing pieces kept multiplying. Her hands clenched into fists.

  "Tch. Too many things happening at once." She pressed fingers to her temple. "I need a drink."

  In Bear Path, Kuro and Fenric arrived to find Rhanes and Lovia standing at the town entrance, flanked by guild members and guards with weapons drawn.

  "Fenric!"

  Lovia's scream cut through the evening air. She stepped forward and stopped Beretta with her bare hands. The heavy motorcycle ground to an abrupt, protesting halt.

  Her eyes found Kuro slumped in the sidecar, clothes soaked with blood. Her face went pale.

  "You—" She pointed an accusing finger at Fenric. "Where are you coming from? Did you really take Kuro to fight the orcs? Are you serious? A D-rank! I can't believe this! Look at the blood—he must be hurt! Hurry, take him to the physician! Fenric, move—you idiot, I said—"

  "LOVIAAAAAA!"

  Fenric's shout cracked through her tirade.

  She snapped her mouth shut, anger flickering to surprise. "Wha—what?"

  "We didn't fight all of them, and the blood is from the orcs. Ella dealt with most of them."

  "Ella?" Lovia blinked. "You mean—"

  "Yes. The same Ella you know. One of the Dragonbloods who killed the so-called..." He caught himself. "...Ravmor. As everyone thinks. I mean, as everyone knows."

  "Really?" Lovia's shoulders dropped slightly. "So Kuro didn't fight?"

  "Really? You're not going to ask if I fought?"

  "Don't make me laugh." She waved him off. "You? Fighting? Of course, of course. So did Kuro fight or not?"

  Fenric's expression flattened. "Yes. He fought. He killed thre—" He saw her look and amended quickly. "Two. He killed two."

  "Two?" Lovia moved to Kuro's side, hands hovering anxiously over his face and body, checking for injuries. A faint blush colored her cheeks. "Are you sure he wasn't hurt?"

  "I'm telling you, he's tough. He can handle a few orcs. He's a good fighter. You worry too much."

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  "Maybe." Lovia leaned close to Fenric, eyes blazing. "But if Ella hadn't been there to fight, what do you think would have happened to you and Kuro? Hm? You keep dragging him into dangerous situations. Maybe Kuro needs to change partners."

  "Dragging? Me? I mean, I... uh—"

  "Lovia. That's enough."

  Rhanes's deep voice cut through the argument like an axe.

  "But Master, they—"

  "I understand. But save your scolding for later." He nodded toward the sidecar. "Look at them. They're exhausted, and Kuro's already in dreamland. Cut them some slack."

  Lovia's jaw tightened. "...Fine."

  "It looks like the threat has been dealt with," Rhanes continued. "Lovia, inform everyone the worst is over. Calm the town."

  "Yes, Master." She hurried off, still radiating irritation.

  Rhanes turned to Fenric. "Fenric."

  "Boss."

  "I expect a complete report of what happened—every detail—this evening." His tone sharpened. His eyes could have cut stone.

  "Yes... of course, boss." Fenric swallowed hard.

  He drove Beretta deeper into town as the sun vanished completely. Street lamps flickered to life. Townsfolk who'd barricaded themselves indoors emerged cautiously, relief brightening their faces as Fenric passed.

  Lovia, finishing her announcements to an elderly woman, glanced back and caught Fenric's eye. She raised two fingers to her eyes, then pointed at him—the universal I'm watching you gesture. Her eyes went wide and theatrical.

  Fenric stared back with flat, dead-fish eyes. His eyelids lowered slowly in a look of profound suffering. He exhaled through his nose, his expression clearly saying, Why are you like this?

  Behind them, Barvtov stepped beside Rhanes, watching the motorcycle fade into the lamplit streets.

  "So that's the boy? The dirty stranger? Kuro, right?"

  "Yes. That's him." Rhanes's voice was flat, unreadable.

  "Your eyes, Hammer... how do I say it? They're alive again. After all these years, they're bright." Barvtov studied him. "That boy—what do you see in him?"

  Rhanes was quiet for a long moment. "For now, nothing major. But I see emerging change. Whether it's good or bad... that's for the future to tell."

  "Change, huh? You've got yourself a student. Good for you." Barvtov grinned. "But you know, like my Atsume – my wife – when are you getting yourself a Matsume? Or a Kitsume? Or—"

  "Shut up."

  Fenric killed the engine in front of his house and lifted Kuro over his shoulder, still dead asleep. He carried him inside and laid him carefully on the bed.

  "Damn, you're heavy even for me." Fenric straightened, looking down at his partner's motionless form. "You sleep in the bed today. You deserve it."

  Kuro slept soundlessly.

  Fenric's ears drooped. "Must've been a rough battle, huh? Sorry, partner. I... I didn't help much."

  He looked at his hands—the same hands that had pulled civilians from death. The same hands that had shaken with fear on that ridge.

  I saved them.

  The thought felt strange. I actually saved them.

  Not because they deserved it. Not because they'd earned his help.

  Because Kuro needed him to.

  Maybe that's enough.

  "But still... I wanted to help in the battle too, help fighting the king. I..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "It's nothing you need to know. Just sleep."

  He reached down to remove Kuro's bloodied coat—

  A hand shot out and caught his wrist. The grip tightened like iron—stronger than Fenric remembered. The curse mark on Kuro's arm pulsed faintly in the darkness, still glowing.

  "Whoa! Chill, man!" Fenric yanked his hand free.

  Kuro's hand fell back to the bed. Still asleep. Pure reflex.

  "You scared the shit out of me." Fenric backed toward the door. "Fine. Sleep in your bloodied clothes. I'm off."

  He closed the door behind him.

  The Smithblood Guild vibrated with light and noise. Glass clinked. Patrons roared. Guild members celebrated the victory they hadn't fought in, clustered around the center of attention: Ella.

  She sat drinking with Lovia, both their faces beet-red. The crowd cheered Ella's name, toasting her for defeating the orcs and their king.

  Ella crushed her glass. It shattered in her grip. Blood mixed with ale. Anger and frustration twisted her features.

  She'd lied. Again.

  First about Ravmor's death—because her teammates wanted the glory.

  Now about the Crown Horn King—a lie requested by... who? Her long-known friend Fenric? To protect that bastard who'd called her an idiot?

  Why did I agree?

  She downed another drink, but the answer wouldn't come.

  The sword he was using is definitely a mosrel horn the missing piece that penetrated Ravmor... Her thoughts drifted. The rumors about the sword is true. Is he really the one who killed Ravmor?

  Questions without answers.

  "First thing in the morning," she muttered, "I'm confronting him. Getting answers."

  "Another!" she shouted, too drunk to care.

  Beside her, Lovia dozed off, mumbling in her sleep. "Kuro... cutie... no, don't do that... oh god... if you... close..." She kept babbling incoherently.

  In contrast to the life and joy filling the guild hall, the Master's office was drenched in silence.

  Fenric stood before Rhanes's desk, tail hanging low, ears stiff. Rhanes sat writing notes, his pen scratching softly across paper.

  "That's everything, boss," Fenric concluded.

  Rhanes raised one eyebrow. His expression was cold. "Are you sure you didn't leave anything out?"

  Fenric swallowed. "I swear to Molly, that's all."

  Rhanes held the cold look for another beat—then his face relaxed. "Relax, Fen. You're stiff as a rock."

  Fenric's shoulders dropped. His tail came back to life. He exhaled heavily. "Come on, boss. Whenever you're in duty mode, I just can't relax. You get all serious, make your face hard—you take your job too seriously."

  Rhanes chuckled and slid a glass across the desk. "Sorry. Old habit. Here, drink this. Pongor beetle juice. It'll ease your fatigue and calm your nerves."

  Fenric made a disgusted face. "No thanks. If I'm done here, I'm just going to join the party."

  "Your loss." Rhanes waved him off. "Yes, you're done. You did well. You can leave."

  "Thanks." Fenric paused at the door. "Oh—I forgot to ask. How did the mourning go? The funerals and..."

  Rhanes's expression darkened. "As you'd expect. Heartbreaking. The number of deaths is staggering, and the property damage is nearly as bad. We've informed the capital, but... you know how it goes."

  "Yeah." Fenric's voice tightened. "Of course. Those bastards."

  "Fenric." Rhanes's voice measured.

  "Sorry."

  "It's fine. I understand." Rhanes leaned back. "And make sure you don't tell Kuro you told me everything. Including the Berrydew forest fire."

  "Of course, boss. The fact you already guessed the truth and hid it from everyone else tells me you've got your own plans." Fenric grinned. "See you, boss."

  He left and joined the celebration outside.

  Rhanes sat alone in the quiet, staring at his notes.

  "So, Kuro... where will your path take you next, I wonder?"

  Footsteps echoed across shallow water, scattering ripples through a carpet of small white flowers.

  The boots stopped before the giant tree inside the vast tower.

  He stood cloaked in midnight-brown velvet—a long frock coat adorned with golden embroidery. Swirling vines and baroque flourishes gleamed across lapels and cuffs. Beneath, a high-collared waistcoat in darker fabric peeked out. A single silver watch chain draped elegantly across his chest.

  He wore a wide-brimmed cavalier hat in rich cocoa felt, tilted rakishly, adorned with a single pale feather that stirred in the wind whistling through cracks in the tower walls.

  Fair-skinned. Lean.

  Belmat.

  "Watcher, I bring news," he called, looking up beyond the branches that spread like vines across the ceiling.

  Finally, a woman's voice echoed down. "What have you got?"

  "Nothing."

  "Are you fucking serious, you little shit?"

  "Little? Me?" Belmat's voice was quiet, measured.

  "I gave you exclusive information—an ancient presence walking the land. I sent you immediately. And you come back with nothing?"

  "What was I supposed to do? By the time I arrived, the battle was over. The curse had already left the Crown Horn's body."

  "You're saying you were too slow."

  "I'm saying your information came too late."

  "Did you just accuse me of informing late? Are you calling me incompetent? Are you saying I'm worthless?" Her voice squeaked with indignation.

  "What? No! Of course not! I was just—" He grew nervous. "What I meant was I was too slow to reach there. Yes. That's what I said."

  "Hmph. Of course, you incompetent fool. You'd better do better next time."

  Silence fell.

  Belmat muttered under his breath. "Brat."

  "What was that?"

  "Nothing. I was just leaving."

  He closed the tower door behind him and walked straight through the corridor, passing the silver-armored soldier guarding the tower without a glance. He reached another gate and disappeared into the night.