Two weeks passed like a gentle lie.

  Nothing hunted Akitsu Shouga.

  Nothing watched him from the shadows.

  Nothing demanded blood.

  The days folded neatly into one another—mornings filled with chatter, afternoons spent wandering the market or the forest edge, evenings soaked in warm light and shared meals. No doors. No petals. No black water.

  For the first time in a long while, the world behaved.

  That morning, Akitsu stepped outside with Rhen Calder and Lemon already waiting.

  “You’re late,” Rhen said, arms crossed. “We were about to leave you behind.”

  “You say that every time,” Akitsu replied calmly.

  “And one day I’ll mean it.”

  Lemon popped his head out of Rhen’s pocket. “Tree house today?”

  “Obviously,” Rhen said. “I brought snacks.”

  Akitsu nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They made their way toward the great gates of the kingdom, chatting idly—about nothing important, about everything small and ordinary. The sun was bright, the streets alive.

  But when the gates came into view, something was wrong.

  They were closed.

  Heavy iron bars sealed tight. More guards than usual stood watch, armor gleaming, hands never straying far from their weapons.

  Rhen slowed. “…That’s new.”

  Akitsu frowned. “They’re never closed during the day.”

  They approached cautiously. One of the guards noticed them and stepped forward—it was a familiar face, a man who had waved them through dozens of times before.

  “Hey,” Rhen said. “What’s going on?”

  The guard’s expression was tight. “You kids shouldn’t be here. Go back.”

  “…What?” Rhen blinked. “Why?”

  “It’s dangerous outside the walls today.”

  Akitsu tilted his head. “Dangerous how?”

  The guard hesitated. “I can’t say. Orders.”

  Rhen scoffed lightly. “So when can we go out again?”

  The guard looked away. “…We don’t know. Could be months. Maybe years.”

  “What?” Rhen snapped. “That’s insane.”

  “I know,” the guard said quietly. “Just… go home.”

  They turned back slowly, the weight of the closed gates pressing down on them. The city felt different already—quieter, tighter, like it was holding its breath.

  As they walked through the market, Lemon tried to lighten the mood.

  “Maybe there’s a dragon outside,” Lemon said cheerfully. “Huge one. Breathing fire everywhere.”

  Rhen’s eyes lit up. “That would explain it.”

  Akitsu shook his head. “No. That wouldn’t close the gates.”

  “Oh?” Rhen smirked. “And what would you know?”

  “…Just a feeling.”

  They passed stalls and civilians who spoke in hushed voices, glancing toward the walls. Akitsu’s unease deepened.

  Then—

  A thunderous boom ripped through the air.

  A house far down the street exploded outward, debris scattering, flames licking up into the sky.

  Rhen froze. “What—?!”

  Another boom.

  Then another.

  “Cannons!” someone screamed.

  High above the walls, dark shapes arced through the sky—iron spheres trailing smoke.

  They fell.

  And exploded.

  Panic erupted instantly.

  “Fire!”

  “Get the children!”

  “Run!”

  Civilians surged in every direction. Knights and guards shouted orders, forming lines, trying to herd people to safety.

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  Rhen grabbed Akitsu’s arm. “Stay close!”

  Lemon clung tightly to Rhen’s collar. “This is not a dragon!”

  More explosions rocked the city. Buildings crumbled. Smoke choked the air.

  They were shoved from behind as a crowd rushed past. Someone screamed. Someone fell.

  “Rhen!” Akitsu shouted.

  “I’m here!” Rhen yelled back—but the sound was swallowed by chaos.

  A blast struck nearby, throwing Akitsu sideways. He hit the ground hard, ears ringing.

  When he pushed himself up, coughing, he saw them—Rhen and Lemon—several feet away, being pulled in the opposite direction by fleeing civilians.

  “Rhen!” Akitsu shouted again, forcing his way forward.

  A knight shoved him back. “This way! MOVE!”

  “I’m trying to get to them!”

  Another explosion shook the street.

  The ground trembled.

  “…Wait,” Akitsu whispered.

  The tremor intensified—no, this wasn’t just impact.

  The earth itself groaned.

  A deep, violent裂裂裂裂裂—

  The street split open.

  The kingdom screamed.

  The ground tore apart like fragile paper. Buildings tilted. Stone cracked. People fell.

  Akitsu stumbled backward as the street beneath him dropped away.

  “AKITSU!” Rhen screamed.

  Akitsu turned—saw Rhen and Lemon on the other side of the widening chasm, untouched ground beneath their feet.

  “Rhen!” Akitsu reached out.

  The ground beneath Akitsu lurched.

  And began to sink.

  “NO!” Rhen shouted, trying to run toward him, but guards held him back.

  The city on Akitsu’s side descended rapidly, collapsing into darkness.

  Akitsu lost his footing and fell—hard—his head striking stone.

  Everything blurred.

  When the shaking stopped, silence followed. An unnatural, hollow silence.

  Akitsu groaned and pushed himself up.

  Blood ran down his face, warm and thick, dripping onto the cracked ground.

  “…Rhen,” he whispered.

  He looked around.

  The world was wrong.

  The air was filled with screams—real screams, desperate screams. Civilians were being cut down in the streets.

  Figures in unfamiliar armor rode through the city—tall, sharp-featured beings with pointed ears.

  Elves.

  They moved with terrifying precision—on horseback, on massive birds circling overhead. Their weapons gleamed as they struck without mercy.

  Akitsu staggered backward. “…No.”

  An elf cut down a fleeing man nearby. Another loosed an arrow into a woman trying to shield her child.

  Akitsu turned and ran.

  His vision swam. Blood blurred his sight. His legs barely held him.

  “Rhen… Lemon…” he whispered between breaths.

  He ducked into an alley as arrows struck stone nearby. His chest burned. His head pounded.

  He collapsed against a wall, sliding down slowly.

  “…So that’s it,” he murmured.

  The sounds of slaughter echoed through the streets.

  He closed his eyes.

  Images surfaced—not blood, not death—but sunlight through leaves. A tree house. Laughter. A small lemming arguing with a pillow. A friend complaining about soup.

  “…It was good,” Akitsu whispered. “I was… happy.”

  His breathing slowed.

  The screams faded.

  And the world, once again, slipped away.