SHAAAA~
Like the breath of darkness, Zephyr and Midnight emerged from the shadowed depths of the ruined apothecary. Moonlight spilled through the cracked ceiling, casting silver over splintered beams, fractured plywood, and shattered glass.
The scent of elixirs, herbs, and blood lingered in the air, like a ghost unwilling to let go.
Zephyr's eyes widened the moment he saw her. Curled into a ball amid the debris, Fay trembled, her body jerking with every sob that escaped her lips. Her pink hair was dotted with dirt, her cheeks streaked with tears.
When her eyes blinked open, a flicker of life returned to them. "Rai?" she breathed. Her voice cracked, raw from crying. But as her vision focused and the little silver pup came into view, her expression shattered into something between disbelief and desperate hope. "Rai! It's really you!"
Zephyr leapt into her arms, heaving a sympathetic whine as he nuzzled her face.
"Rai! I've missed you so much," Fay sobbed, clutching him tightly. "A-All my friends," she uttered, memories of the Mithrilcrest Deer, the fawn, and the Dravenharts, momentarily flickering through her mind like frost. "They were all killed. There was… nothing I could do. Why does this always happen? Rai! I-I don't know what to do."
Zephyr whimpered softly, licking her cheek as if to say You're not alone. His heart twisted painfully—he had never seen her like this. She had always been so cheerful. Now, she was barely holding herself together.
What could've happened to her?
From the side, Midnight stepped forward. His olive-green eyes gleamed in the gloom. Without a sound, he extended his tail and tapped the tip gently to Zephyr's forehead.
In an instant, images surged into the pup's mind—blistering, horrific flashes of the massacre that had unfolded here: Rue and Lugene's betrayal, the rampage of the homunculus, Zurrel and Lefahne's gruesome deaths, Silvestia being carried away.
The visions ended. Silence followed.
And then—rage.
Zephyr's claws jutted out with a metallic sound, gouging deep into the floorboards. His fur stood on end. His aura unfurled in every direction like a dark tempest. It was more than fury—it was the physical manifestation of yearning… a yearning for vengeance.
Snarling, he lowered his snout to the floor and inhaled, channeling mana into his olfactory senses. Layers of scent—blood, sweat, fear—rushed through him. But he separated them and found what he was looking for.
Fay watched through tear-clouded eyes. "Rai? What are you doing?"
He didn't respond. He turned sharply and trotted toward the corridor, nose to the ground, sniffing purposefully. Midnight moved after him without a word. Fay hesitated, then stumbled to her feet and followed.
They returned to the main room.
The corpses of Zurrel and Lefahne lay side by side, blanketed in debris and silence.
"…Mrs. Lefahne. Mr. Zurrel…" Fay murmured, her voice barely audible before the sobs overtook her again.
Zephyr paused beside them. He gently sniffed their bodies—memorizing the scents of the dead—then turned his head toward the trail he had picked up. There were three distinct scents leaving the scene.
One was heavy in the room where Fay had been. The other two carried the bitter, pungent aroma of age—Rue and Lugene.
His lips peeled back.
His mind etched their names into the fire that now burned within him, liquid flames that seethed through his veins. Monsters. They did this. They hurt her. They destroyed this innocent and loving family… and they would not be forgiven.
Fay watched as Zephyr's oceanic eyes narrowed, now churning with a storm barely held back. The pup took one last sniff, then began following the trail out of the ruins.
And this time, he would not stop until it ended in blood.
***
The ballroom, once a glittering cage of empty chatter and shallow smiles, fell into a hush.
Lumielle walked towards the stage with quiet grace, her heels tapping softly against the marble floor. One by one, heads turned—lords and ladies pausing mid-sentence, their eyes narrowing with curiosity.
From the shadows near the side of the room, Lyndoria clenched her fists. "You can do it," she whispered under her breath.
Daisuke, watching from beside her, frowned. "This is the moment of truth. Go get 'em, Princess."
Lumielle materialized a crystal microphone in her hand. The band, sensing her cue, let the current tune fade into silence before seamlessly breathing life into something new—something softer, deeper, woven with melancholy and hope.
The mana crystal chandeliers dimmed.
A luminous white aura unfurled from Lumielle's skin like starlight. Her dress began to transform, threads of mana stitching the fabric tighter around her bodice and loosening into a flowing slit that revealed her thigh.
Her glow shimmered like moonlight on water. Wisps of iridescent light bloomed from her body, weaving through the air, brushing past nobles who reached out in awe.
And then she sang.
Where does the sky go, when the night takes hold?
Where do the dreams flee, when the heart grows cold?
Mama once told me, with a voice so kind—
Child, chase the stars, though the world be blind…
What is a woman, but a whisper unheard?
Still she walks forward, with no spoken word
Taking the blows, the silence, the shame—
And still, I rise, again and again.
Over the silence, over the flame,
Over the fear, and all of the blame—
There lies a lullaby, soft and true,
Promising freedom, waiting for you.
Can't you hear it? The hope in the pain?
Even the fallen, can rise again.
This is our moment, this is our time—
To dare to dream, and cross the line.
What is a life, if not lived whole?
If not to rise, to fight for your soul?
The chains may bind, but dreams still fly—
Like lullabies… that never die.
As the final note soared, so too did her spirit—higher, stronger, the vibrato trembling through every bone in the room.
A ripple swept across the chamber—men and women frozen, tears slipping silently down powdered cheeks. Even Stynx and Hynes, so often sneering, watched with parted lips, breathless and spellbound.
This was why they idolized her—why they worshipped her. Her effortless charm, her innocence, her boundless kindness and maternal grace. The way she captured hearts with nothing but her angelic voice.
It was like a drug.
Irresistible to those with a damaged heart.
Out in the courtyard, faces turned upward. Grief was replaced with wonder, with light. Children clutched their parents, men and women held hands, hope returning to the creases of their eyes.
Then came the high note—piercing and pure. People held their breaths and leaned in. It wrapped the room in golden sound, and just as it reached its peak—
A blinding flash of white light.
And then—
The marbled floor, the ballroom, the palace… everything disappeared.
***
Frost clung to the limbs of the trees surrounding the apothecary. Winter's breath had chilled the very soul of the land, yet Zephyr, Midnight, and Fay knelt quietly behind the bramble and undergrowth, hidden from view by the murky veil of night.
Through narrowed eyes, Zephyr observed the building. Several figures lingered outside, pretending to busy themselves with meaningless tasks—stacking wood, sweeping steps, checking doors that had already been locked.
These weren't laborers. They were sentries. Watchdogs. Guardians of something vile. And the scent. The stench of rot and greed clung to their bodies like tar. Their foul mana was unmistakable. It was clear they were Mhaledictus lapdogs.
Fay clutched Silvestia's gift with trembling fingers, her crimson eyes pleading. "…Rai," she whispered, voice nearly a whimper. "What are we doing here? I-I can't afford to lose you too. Please… let's just leave and get help. Please."
But Zephyr didn't respond. His ears twitched, gaze remained fixed on the filth guarding the Kaelmonts' den of evil. His fur bristled. His muscles went taut. And his eyes burned—not with anger, but with something colder. The promise of death.
DING!
[Zephyr has learned the active skill «Faint Trace».]
[Faint Trace]
[Rank: Rare
Classification: Active Skill
Lvl: 1
Proficiency: 0%
A subtle veil shrouds the body in imperceptibility. By dimming natural scent, sound, and aura to near nonexistence, this skill allows the user to move unnoticed—even amidst beasts or those with heightened perception.
Skill Effect:
▪︎ Suppresses detectable scent, breathing, and footsteps.
▪︎ Conceals aura from magical and sensory detection.
Mana Cost: 45
Skill Duration: 55 Seconds
Skill Cooldown: 10 Minutes]
Near the edge of the woods, a familiar man hacked at a log with a slow, careless rhythm.
He was the man who supplied pixie crystals to most of those converted by the Zepharion Church and the Kaelmonts—including Carl and the friendly neighborhood vendor.
The same man who had slipped the satchel of pills to Rue in the square. The one who evidently believed he was safe in the arms of wickedness—protected by the very filth that ruled this city from the shadows.
RUSTLE-RUSTLE-RUSTLE.
The man stiffened, his head snapping to the side.
But he didn't see anything.
Suddenly, another rustle came. Then another.
Panic filled his eyes. Knife in hand, he crept toward the noise. The wind hissed through the branches, but there was nothing. Just the cold and the whisper of his own heartbeat.
He exhaled in relief. "Damn rats," he muttered.
But before he could turn back completely—
"RAWRRR!"
Like death incarnate, a shadow fell from the tree. There was a wet, tearing sound as Zephyr's claws tore through his throat.
"GRAHHK!"
Inside the apothecary, the muffled gurgle echoed like a dying tranquilid. Lugene paused, hunched over a journal struggling to decipher the rest of the formula Lefahne had transcribed for the elixir. Her eyes veered toward the door.
"Honey? Did you hear that?"
Rue barely looked up, fingers trailing through a mound of gold coins they had acquired from selling a rare piece of merchandise. His grin was glassy, greedy.
"Probably just one of the idiots stepping on a rake," he muttered.
Then came the second scream.
And the third—longer, sharper.
Rue froze mid-count.
Lugene stood.
More screams followed, each more brutal than the last—bone-snapping, bloodcurdling.
And then… nothing.
No more cries. No movement.
Just silence.
An awful, choking silence.
Rue and Lugene stared at each other. Their eyes said what their mouths couldn't: something was terribly wrong. Then—without sound, without warning—he was there.
Zephyr.
He stood atop the table, his fur matted with crimson, his form cloaked in silence like a wraith from a child's nightmare. His oceanic eyes churned with quiet fury, liquid ice that threatened to expose them to a fate worse than the flames of hell.