[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
[Virelheim Mountain Village]
The pale woman stood in the center of the village square, her posture still as a statue. A faint wind cut through the air, carrying with it the mingled scent of smoke and damp soil. The village was quiet, save for the creaking of wooden beams and the dull chatter of those who whispered.
She exhaled slowly, a sigh escaping her lips that sounded more like disappointment than fatigue. Her crystalline eyes swept over the settlement before her—cracked walls, wilted fields, and faces dulled by habit.
"…It's even more putrid up close."
Her voice held no venom, only a detached revulsion. The disgusted murmur came from the woman who bore the Eighth Seat of the Retorta Guild. Her reputation, though unknown to these people, carried weight enough to silence nations.
The villagers' gazes turned toward her one by one—some curious, others cautious, most afraid. Their murmurs grew.
Humans.
They were creatures too. Instinctive. Skittish. Like wolves sensing a storm before the first drop fell. The unease pooled beneath their ribs, foreign but choking. She felt it, saw it in their eyes. They did not know who she was—only that something about her presence was wrong.
("Hm,") Snow mused inwardly, her expression unchanging. ("They do not even know who stands before them. I'd wager not one of them even suspects the burden I carry… the judgment that comes.")
Her boots crunched softly over soil as she strode deeper into the village. Each step drew more whispers. ("Destroyers, all of you,") she thought quietly. ("With that Angel gone, none will shield you from consequence. Justice shall be rendered upon all.")
"—Oomph!"
Her internal condemnation broke when something small and solid collided with her side. Snow barely swayed, but the boy who had struck her stumbled back and fell into the dirt.
Her glacial eyes dropped to him. A child—perhaps ten years old—scruffy black hair tangled over his brow, gray eyes wide with panic. His tunic and trousers were two sizes too large, frayed at the edges. A simple and plain boy.
He scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off in a rush. "S-sorry, miss," he stammered, cheeks flushing. His gaze stayed on the ground, unwilling to meet hers.
"What is your name?" Snow asked, tone light but devoid of warmth.
The boy blinked, startled by the question. He hesitated, looking up for a moment—just long enough for her icy stare to meet his—before quickly glancing away, his blush deepening. His mouth opened to respond, but another voice interrupted.
"Andrew! There you are!"
The call came from the end of the street, sharp and high-pitched. The boy froze, half-turning just as two more figures ran into view—a ginger-haired girl with a dusted apron and a smaller one with soft gray hair, both panting.
"Meryl? Arabella? What are you two doing here?" Andrew asked, brow furrowing in surprise.
Arabella huffed, her hands landing on her hips. "What do you think we're doing? We've been looking for Mikoto!"
Meryl puffed out her cheeks. "He just ran off again," she complained.
Arabella rolled her eyes, muttering, "More like jumped off to who knows where. Probably got bored or found something gloomy to stare at."
"I doubt that," Meryl murmured, lowering her tone. She tilted her head, her gaze drifting upward to finally take in Snow. For a moment, she went utterly still, then whispered, awed, "Whoa… you're really pretty."
Arabella crossed her arms. "Not as pretty as Mikoto," she muttered.
Snow's gaze lingered on the three of them. Her expression remained unaltered.
"It's rather late, children," Snow finally said, her voice quiet, almost maternal in tone. "You should go home."
Arabella frowned. "Huh? It's barely evening. The lamps aren't even lit yet."
Snow ignored the remark, her eyes glinting faintly. "Many today shall be paying for their sins," she said instead, each word vague, as if spoken to something that wasn't even there rather than the children.
"Sins?" Arabella echoed, brows scrunching. "What are you talking about?"
Meryl glanced nervously between them. "We—we didn't do anything wrong…"
"You'd be right, girl," came another voice—not Snow's this time, but deep, gravelly, and aged.
The three children turned toward the sound. An old man was approaching from the far end of the square, his gait firm.
"Village Chief Gerard!" Arabella exclaimed, her earlier bravado vanishing as she pointed toward the man.
Snow's eyes flicked toward him as he drew near. He was tall and broad despite his years, his white beard matted, his expression set in lines of age.
"You children," Gerard said sternly, his voice carrying authority. "Go home. Now."
The three looked between him and Snow, hesitation flickering on their faces. They could feel the heaviness in the air, though they could not name it. Arabella tugged at Meryl's sleeve, and together with Andrew, they began to retreat. Their small figures disappeared down the road, still glancing over their shoulders.
When their footsteps faded, Gerard turned his gaze fully toward the pale woman. The silence between them was heavy, almost tangible. His brows lowered into a frown that spoke not of anger, but of understanding as to why she was here.
"Snow," he said finally, his tone carrying recognition and a barely apparent sense of unease.
She regarded him without moving. "Gerard," she returned evenly.
--------------------
[Realm: Álfheimr]
[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]
The walk back to the village was oppressively quiet. The dead forest had always been that way — lifeless, stagnant, stripped of song. No wind carried through the crooked trees; no leaves rustled overhead.
Not even a Deseruit Beast would call this place home anymore.
And yet, beneath that heavy silence, Gretel felt something gnaw at her — a faint, tightening unease in the pit of her stomach. It was not a sound nor a sight that birthed it, but rather an instinct, like an animal sensing that something had shifted in the environment. She could not quite name it. Only that each step forward deepened the dread, as though something within the forest was watching.
"Are you unwell, girl?"
The resonant voice came from her side. Shuten-dōji walked beside her with her usual unbothered gait
Gretel blinked, startled slightly out of her thoughts.
"I'm not sure," she admitted, forcing a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Suppose I'm just lightheaded today."
("The Heart Kingdom soldiers are still on standby…") she reassured herself silently. ("They haven't made any movements yet. Things should be fine. There's still time.") But even as she tried to convince herself, the silence of the forest pressed in tighter.
Shuten-dōji merely hummed at her response . Her eyes flickered toward the horizon but never stopped moving forward. She did not look worried, but Gretel could tell her thoughts were elsewhere.
Still, Gretel tried to distract herself with conversation. "Are you still curious about what Mikoto is up to?" she asked.
"I suppose so," the oni replied after a moment. "Though it burns me inside if he's having fun without me."
Her lips twisted into a fanged grin, but the humor was faint. Gretel stared at her for a second, then sighed softly.
"I… see." She regretted opening her mouth almost immediately. Perhaps she should have left the silence alone. But since the topic was already broken, she chose to steer it elsewhere. "But that power of yours, Shuten… it's rather odd. The way you summoned that blade before—it seemed different from Mikoto's method or a Null Schema. And those paper things you use..."
"Ah," Shuten-dōji smirked, her canines flashing briefly as if she'd been waiting for someone to ask. "Curious about my power, are you? Hm. It would take rather long to explain in its entirety, but an abridged version should suffice."
"I'm fine with that," Gretel said, softening slightly. "Though I'm guessing what you use is much different from a Null Schema."
"Indeed." The oni nodded, her tone taking on a measured ring. "My abilities are fundamentally different from that of a Nil or a mage. Though people call it sorcery, what I wield stems from something very foreign. It requires fuel, yes — but the fuel, the cause, and the effect are not like magic." She paused, slowing her steps slightly, her hand pressing lightly against her abdomen. "The basis of my sorcery begins here. From my spiritual energy. It builds and flows."
"Spiritual energy?" Gretel tilted her head, watching the oni's hand.
"A force that bathes the East," Shuten explained, her voice softening with rare fondness. "Yōkai, beast, mortals — all of them breathe it in from birth. Many develop affinities for it, and it grows alongside their will. For me, it acts as the foundation of my art."
With a flick of her hand, three rectangular slips of paper materialized between her fingers — pale and inscribed with odd symbols.
"Talismans," she said. "Ordinary charms, and Fulu — their eastern name. These form the pillars of my craft. Cause and effect. When I imbue my spiritual energy into these, their nature bends to my will. Fire. Barriers. Summoning. Anything within the realm of my spirit's reach."
Gretel blinked, her eyes widening slightly. "That seems… extremely versatile," she murmured. "And powerful."
"It is quite impressive," Shuten admitted, her grin widening with pride. "Still, it's a hassle to make my own charms and talismans. The process requires patience and the right paper, ink, and focus. And Fulu—ah, those are becoming harder to come by these days. Quite the shame." She sighed, flicking her wrist again. The talismans dissolved into thin mist. "Granted, I can use sorcery without them, but these are… convenient shortcuts."
Gretel smiled faintly. "The more I hear about you, Shuten, the more impressive you seem." She laughed softly, a little embarrassed by her own words. "It's just… I can't help but feel envious. My power's nothing compared to yours."
Shuten glanced sideways at her, a glimmer of curiosity in her gaze. "Hm. So you say." She let the silence linger before adding, "Still, I am curious about the Nil's abilities. I've only ever faced one before. Their nature intrigues me."
Gretel rubbed her arm. "Well, I'm not sure how much help I'd be clarifying that," she admitted. "I only have a general understanding." She raised her hand, staring at it for a long moment. "Honestly, I don't even know if it's some kind of bad joke or if that's just how the Schema works… but it feels personal. Like each Nil's ability is tied directly to who they are. As if the power reflects the soul's own sickness."
"You seem like you dislike your own power," Shuten observed quietly.
"It's… a putrid power," Gretel admitted, her voice heavy. "I don't like using it. But sometimes, I have to. It's saved me more times than I care to admit."
"Suppose we do not get to choose the hand we're dealt," Shuten mused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But how we view that hand—that's the choice. Power isn't pure or tainted. It's the one who wields it that shapes its nature."
"I suppose so," Gretel said, though her tone lacked conviction.
"If you truly find your power disgusting," Shuten said, "then use it only for what you deem necessary. Make it serve your will instead of letting it define you."
"Easier said than done," Gretel muttered, forcing a faint smile. "But—"
Her words caught. The forest felt different all of a sudden. The air had shifted—charged, as if the environment was holding its breath.
"Shuten?" she began, only to see the oni halt mid-stride.
"You should hurry along to the village, Gretel," Shuten said quietly. Her eyes were no longer lazy or playful; they sharpened, scanning the gloom beyond the trees. "We're being followed."
Gretel froze. "Wait—could it be Heart Kingdom soldiers? But we just checked on them—"
"Reinforcements, perhaps," Shuten interrupted. "Either way, the village may be in danger."
The words hit her. Gretel's pulse quickened. She looked toward the distant village, her stomach twisting.
"Go," Shuten said firmly, lifting her chin toward the path. "I'll handle things here."
Gretel hesitated only a heartbeat before bowing her head. "Thank you, Shuten. Truly."
Then she turned and ran, her boots kicking up dust as she vanished into the skeletal forest in a burst of speed.
Shuten watched her disappear. Then she turned slowly, her mouth curving into a faint smile.
From between the trees, shadows began to move. Dozens of them — tall, looming, others smaller but fast, stepping into view.
"Well now…" Shuten murmured. "At the very least, I'll get my fun tonight."