As the day waned, the dying sun bled into the fractured horizon, staining the sky with bruised shades of violet and fading gold. The wind drifted through the shattered building of Balmount like a lament — a whisper of the lives lost within its walls.
Inside the castle, Morganna sat beside Nina and Mael. The room was dim, lit by the weary glow of a single lantern. Nina's eyes were red, her fingers twisting a piece of cloth in restless grief. Mael stood nearby, his posture tense, as if holding his sorrow by sheer force of will.
Morganna had come after Thorn's report — Astrid had departed. There was a strange stillness in the air since then, the kind that pressed on the heart.
They spoke quietly of what was to come. Both Nina and Mael, stripped of their former purpose, had requested to remain in Balmount — to serve under the royal family, to protect, to begin again.
Morganna had paused, studying them in silence. They are broken, yet still willing to give. Her heart ached at their sincerity. Finally, she nodded. "Very well. You may stay."
Shock flickered across their faces — disbelief mingled with relief.
"Then hear my terms," Morganna continued, her tone soft but iron beneath. "First, you will cast aside any claims or duties tied to the Eastern Province. Your lives belong here now…to peace, not politics. Second, you will see to the burial of your captain, Mira. She deserves to rest as a hero, not as a casualty."
Nina's lips trembled as she bowed. "Yes, my lady."
Mael lowered his head, his voice tight. "You honor us… and her."
"Good." Morganna's expression gentled. "Know that while you serve this kingdom, your duty is not only to obey, but to speak truth — even when it is difficult. If ever the royal family falters, you must be our conscience."
They both nodded, eyes glimmering with renewed purpose. Morganna smiled faintly, feeling for a moment that something in this broken world might still be mended.
But before she could say another word—
The door burst open with a deafening crack. Syl stumbled in, breathless, her face pale with terror. "Mama!"
Morganna rose at once. "Syl? What's wrong?"
Syl's voice came in fragments, trembling. "Mama, please…we need you! It's Kibo…he's—" Her throat caught, the words dying in fear.
Morganna's pulse quickened. "Syl, breathe. Tell me what happened."
Syl shook her head, eyes wide with tears. "I don't know! Me and Lily were with him… then he started thrashing. He was bleeding, his body wouldn't stop convulsing! Greed had to—he stabilized him somehow—but he told me to bring you. Please, Mama!"
The room went still. Nina gasped softly, her hand clutching her chest. Mael's jaw tightened, though his eyes betrayed fear.
Morganna's thoughts spiraled. No… I cleansed his mind.
She turned to Nina and Mael, her voice calm despite the storm rising inside her. "Stay here. I will return."
They bowed immediately. Morganna moved toward Syl, her stride urgent now. The girl led her through the hall, their footsteps echoing off the cold stone.
They reached the room. The door stood ajar, the faint smell of iron clinging to the air.
Morganna's breath caught as her eyes fell upon the sight within.
Kibo sat upright on the bed, his posture stiff and unnatural. His body looked stable—too stable—but his mind was gone. His eyes were wide and lifeless, staring straight ahead without seeing. A faint line of drool glistened at the edge of his mouth, trailing down his chin. He did not blink. He did not move.
Lily knelt before him, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. Her voice cracked with anguish. "Kibo! Please, talk to me! Say something! Look at me!"
Her desperate pleas echoed in the silent room. Kibo's gaze didn't waver. His body was there, but he was not.
Near the bedside, Greed stood motionless, his usual calm demeanor shaded by something strange—a rare, thoughtful frown curling at the edge of his perfect smile.
Morganna rushed in, Syl close behind, both of them drawn into the eerie stillness. Greed's eyes lifted toward Morganna, their golden hue catching the faint light.
"Lady Morganna," he said smoothly, voice even and composed, "your assistance would be appreciated. His mind appears to be… in disarray."
Morganna's heart sank. She could see it now—Kibo's mana core pulsed faintly within him, but his consciousness was like a shattered mirror.
"Lily, Syl," Morganna said softly, "step aside."
They obeyed, moving back with tearful hesitation. Morganna sat at Kibo's side, placing her hands on either side of his head. Closing her eyes, she summoned the Verdant Aegis of Eternus. A radiant green light flared beneath her palms, rippling through the air like soft wind. It flowed into Kibo, waves of pure mana meant to cleanse, restore, and repel corruption.
But the energy dissipated—absorbed into a hollow void.
Morganna's brow furrowed. She tried again, this time invoking the Celestial Aegis, the divine essence of the Eternal Light. Her power surged brighter, illuminating the chamber in pale gold. Yet again, it met resistance—an unseen wall that refused her entry.
She withdrew her hands slowly, eyes heavy with defeat.
"I presume it did not work," Greed murmured, his tone unreadable.
Morganna looked up, weary. "No… it didn't. His body is whole, but his spirit is fragmented. I don't even know what is wrong with him."
Greed smiled faintly, the curve of his lips never quite reaching his eyes. "Then, it would be best if Master rests. He will not die—not yet. I will handle this matter myself."
The way he said it sent a shiver down Morganna's spine. There was something deeply unsettling about how certain he sounded, as though he already knew the truth behind Kibo's broken state—and chose not to share it.
Morganna's mind stirred. Why do I feel as though he already planned this?
She looked again at Kibo, whose breathing was shallow, steady, yet devoid of life. It was as if his soul had gone wandering, leaving only a shell behind. The silence was unbearable.
Her thoughts flickered—If he doesn't wake… what will happen
She rose, turning toward the others. "I am—"
A sudden echo of footsteps interrupted her.
"Are we close to the room?" came the familiar voice of Old Man Wu from the hallway.
"Yes," Thorn's steady tone followed.
The door opened wider as Old Man Wu entered, draped in a simple robe, his beard glinting faintly in the light. In one hand he carried a rectangular case marked with runic carvings. Thorn followed close behind, his face grave.
Wu's gaze swept the room and fell upon Greed. His expression didn't change, but a glint of recognition—perhaps even wariness—flickered in his eyes.
Greed inclined his head slightly, his expression soft and polite.
Then came another presence—Clayton, dressed in his usual uniform, though tonight it was darkened with mourning tones. He pushed a wheelchair slowly into the room. Thorn and Wu stepped aside to make way. Lily and Syl instinctively moved back, their eyes still red with tears.
Syl turned to her father, her voice small. "Papa… what are they going to do with Kibo?"
Thorn looked down at her. His tired eyes softened with a fleeting smile, though it was clear he was forcing it. "He will be alright, my little one," he said gently.
Syl didn't answer. Her gaze drifted past him, toward the doorway. Two Dreadholm elite guards, cloaked in the same black uniform, were walking by—silent, disciplined shadows. Between them, they carried a glass casket shimmering faintly under the dying light that filtered through the hall. The casket caught the reflection of the torchlight like frozen tears as they disappeared down the corridor, heading toward Subaru's special room.
The sight made Syl's chest tighten.
"Stop," Old Man Wu said suddenly. His calm, commanding tone broke the quiet tension in the room. Clayton had just begun to move toward Kibo, but Wu raised a hand, his sharp eyes flicking to Greed. "He should be the one to do it."
Greed's lips curved, the faintest of smiles. "As you wish."
Clayton stepped aside respectfully. Greed moved forward with unhurried grace. Every motion was deliberate, almost reverent. He slid his arms beneath Kibo's limp body, lifting him effortlessly.
Kibo's head lolled slightly to the side, his eyes empty, staring into nothing. His lips twitched once, a faint breath escaping—instinct, not will. Drool streaked down his chin as Greed settled him carefully into the wheelchair.
Lily stood motionless, her face pale and wet with tears. Her hands trembled at her sides as she watched.
Greed straightened, his hands resting on the wheelchair handles. "Shall we be on our way?" His voice was calm, polite… almost soothing. Yet beneath that calmness, there was something else. Something watching.
Wu nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yes. Let us proceed."
He stepped out of the room, Thorn following close behind. The others began to move as well—Morganna, Syl, Lily, and Clayton—all silent. Their footsteps echoed down the long corridor, filling the space with an almost ritual solemnity.
At the doorway, Lily lingered. Her eyes locked on Greed.
Greed leaned down slightly, his gaze meeting hers. His voice came soft as a whisper. "You need not worry, Mistress. The Master is fine."
Lily didn't reply. Her lips parted, but no words came. The grief in her throat was too heavy to shape into sound. She turned away and followed the others, her steps unsteady.
The group moved slowly through the corridor, the cold light from the torches casting wavering shadows across the cracked stone.
As they walked, Wu spoke without turning his head. "Thorn, after this, I will remain behind to speak with you. There are things that must be said—things Subaru left behind for you."
Thorn's brow tightened. "Sigh"
"And no matter what you learn from it, no word must pass your lips. It was his final request." Wu replied, his tone grave.
Thorn nodded once, quietly accepting the burden.
They reached the grand Council Chamber. Wu halted at the center and turned, his gaze falling upon Kibo. "How long has he been like this?" he asked, his voice heavy.
Greed tilted his head slightly, expression still unreadable. "Not long enough," he said.
Wu regarded him carefully, but said nothing. "And is there… any solution to it?"
Greed smiled faintly, that same calm, unbothered tone slipping through. "No. Not for now."
Wu studied him a moment longer, then nodded slowly, as though accepting that answer because no better one existed. "Very well."
The silence that followed was suffocating. Then came the echo of boots; Wu gave Thorn a single nod of signal.
Thorn raised his hand, his palm glowing faintly. The air in front of them shimmered, twisting and folding into a Teleportation Portal.
The two Dreadholm elites emerged from the corridor, their black uniform reflecting the faint glow of the torches. Between them, they carried the glass casket—Subaru's body sealed inside, pale and still. The light caught the edges of the crystal, casting fractured rays across the chamber floor like splintered stars.
Behind them walked Sora and Bram, their expressions shadowed with grief. Sora's was still in silent despair, and Bram's strong posture faltered beneath the weight of loss.
Old Man Wu watched in silence until the elites halted before him. His aged hand rose in a small, deliberate gesture. "Proceed," he said softly. His voice carried command, but it trembled faintly with sorrow.
The elites gave a respectful bow before moving forward, guiding the casket through the shimmering portal. The light from it rippled gently across their uniform as they vanished within.
Wu's gaze then shifted toward Bram. His tone hardened. "You stay."
Bram blinked, surprised, but said nothing at first. Sora looked back at him, brows furrowing. Bram drew in a slow breath, about to speak, but Wu's voice cut clean through the air.
"No. You stay with me," Wu said firmly. "There are things that must be discussed here. The rest will go ahead."
Bram hesitated, his jaw tightening. "But—"
Wu's eyes met his, calm but unyielding. "This is not a request."
The tension in Bram's shoulders eased. He exhaled heavily and turned to Sora. "I will come. Take care of everyone for me."
Sora's face softened. "I will," she promised quietly.
She turned toward Lily and reached out her hand. Lily hesitated for a moment, then took it, her fingers trembling. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears, but her movements were gentle.
"Aren't you coming, Syl?" Lily asked softly.
Syl's gaze flickered between her friends and her parents. Thorn and Morganna both looked at her with quiet understanding, their eyes warm despite the weariness beneath. Syl felt her throat tighten. She shook her head gently.
"I have to stay," she said, her voice breaking. She stepped forward and pulled Lily into a tight embrace. "I am sorry. I will come when everything has cooled down."
Lily hugged her back fiercely. "Please do," she whispered. "Don't disappear."
Syl nodded, though her heart felt like it might collapse.
Her gaze fell on Kibo, seated in the wheelchair. His vacant eyes stared straight ahead, lifeless and dim. Syl's breath hitched as she approached him. She knelt beside the chair, placing her small hand over his cold one.
"Please get better," she whispered into his ear. "We're all waiting for you."
Kibo didn't move. Not a flicker of response. Syl's eyes filled with tears as she pressed her forehead against his shoulder for one final moment before rising again.
She turned to Sora, struggling to keep her composure. "Thank you, Aunt Sora… for taking care of me."
Sora's expression softened with pride and pain. "Don't forget everything you've been taught, Syl. Keep your heart strong."
Syl nodded wordlessly.
Sora turned, still holding Lily's hand, and together they stepped through the portal. Its light enveloped them gently before fading.
Behind them, Greed began to move. His hands rested lightly on the wheelchair handles, pushing Kibo forward with a practiced calm. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes gleamed faintly as the portal's reflection shimmered across his face. "Such fragile goodbyes," he murmured quietly, almost to himself. "They make even eternity seem… brief."
Then he too vanished through the portal, his voice leaving an unsettling echo behind.
Clayton followed last, glancing once more toward Thorn and Wu before disappearing into the light.
The portal dimmed and closed with a low hum, the silence that followed thick enough to feel.
Old Man Wu turned to Thorn, his gaze steady. "We need a private place," he said at last. His tone carried the weight of something old, something unfinished. "Just me, you, and Bram."
Thorn gave a slow nod and reached out to take the suitcase Wu held. His fingers brushed against the worn handle, the faint vibration of hidden power humming inside it.
"Alright," Thorn said quietly. "Let's go."
~~~~~~~~~
As the portal slammed shut behind them, the workshop's air shifted—dense, heavy, alive with the faint shimmer of mana. Sora and Lily stepped out first. Greed followed, his hands steady on the handles of the wheelchair carrying Kibo. Clayton emerged last, silent and grim.
They had barely taken two steps before Raphael appeared from the shadows of the hall. His face lit up in raw, unguarded relief as he ran toward them. "You both are fine!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking with emotion as he wrapped his arms around Sora and Lily.
Lily's composure shattered instantly. She threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. "Big brother!" Her cries echoed through the hall, filled with everything she'd been holding in—fear, guilt, loss.
Sora, who had managed to stay strong for so long, finally allowed herself a brief moment of weakness. Her body trembled as she leaned into Raphael's embrace, silent tears trailing down her cheeks.
Behind them, Auren stood with his arms folded tightly, his knuckles white. His gaze shifted from the weeping ladies to Kibo's motionless form in the chair. The faint twitch in his jaw betrayed the storm he was holding back. When his eyes met Greed's calm, unreadable smile, the air between them thickened.
Up above, the corridors of the upper hall, echoing softly with the steps of the two Dreadholm Elites—Zanele, her dark curls framing a face lined with quiet grief, and Brax, the tall orc with a coarse topknot and eyes that carried a soldier's sorrow. Between them, they bore the glass casket that held Subaru's lifeless form.
They walked in silence, the faint hum of the casket's whispering through the hall. Then, a small, innocent voice broke the quiet.
"Mama, do you think Big Brother is going to love me?"
Both guards looked up. Ahead stood Luna, regal even in mourning black, her hand gently resting on the shoulder of Liora, dressed in a matching gown. Luna's expression softened at the question, her lips curving into a tender smile that barely masked the ache beneath.
"Your big brother is going to love you so dearly, my baby," Luna said softly.
Her words trembled at the edges as her eyes fell upon the casket. Zanele and Brax slowed their steps out of respect. Liora followed her mother's gaze and saw the glass coffin. Her innocent eyes widened.
"Mama, Grandpa is back!" she exclaimed brightly. "Why is he in that glass?"
Zanele bowed her head in greeting as they passed. "Lady Luna," she murmured.
"Thank you," Luna replied, her voice steady but distant.
When the guards were gone, Luna forced a faint smile and turned back to her daughter. "Your grandpa likes to play games, my baby."
Liora tilted her head, confused. "Games?"
Before the girl could look too closely, Luna swiftly turned her around, kneeling so they were eye-to-eye. Her tone was suddenly sharp, filled with protective fear. "Don't you dare, young lady. You don't want your power activating now. Your grandpa doesn't need you picking into his future."
Liora's lips curved into a small, guilty pout. "I'm sorry, Mama…"
Luna's stern look melted instantly. She pulled the girl close, hugging her tightly. "No, my love. Don't be sad. Your grandpa loves you dearly, alright?"
Liora nodded quietly into her mother's gown.
Then came the faint hum of energy and the soft creak of wheels from the corridor below. Luna's head snapped up. The sound was distinct—the slow rhythm of a wheelchair, the measured steps that followed.
And then she saw him.
Kibo.
The boy she had once cradled like her own, his white hair now lifeless under the runes light, his eyes hollow and unfocused. The sight stopped her heart cold. For a moment, the world narrowed until all she could see was that empty gaze.
Greed walked behind him, pushing the chair with serene precision. Behind them came Sora, Lily, Raphael, and Auren, each carrying grief in their own way.
Liora gasped, her eyes lighting up with wonder. "Mama, is that Big Brother? Look! It must be Big Brother—he has the same color hair as mine!"
Before Luna could speak, Liora wriggled free and ran.
"Liora!" Luna reached for her, but the child had already crossed the hall, her little feet pattering against the cold floor.
"Big Brother! Big Brother!" she called joyfully, stopping before the wheelchair. "Look, it's me! Liora, your little sister!"
Greed halted the chair, his expression unreadable. The adults froze, grief pressing down on them like a physical weight.
Liora waited. Kibo's eyes did not shift, not even a flicker of recognition. His head tilted slightly, the faint sound of his slow, uneven breathing the only sign he was alive at all.
"Big Brother?" Her voice trembled. "Why aren't you answering me?"
She turned, her gaze desperate. "Mama, what's wrong with Big Brother? What's wrong with him?"
Luna didn't answer. The question from her daughter hung in the air, fragile and unanswered. She moved toward Kibo slowly, her steps almost hesitant—as though each one drew her closer to a truth she didn't wish to face. Her hand trembled as she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cold cheek.
Liora's small voice continued to ask, but Luna didn't hear it anymore. Her gaze locked on Kibo's vacant eyes, searching desperately for even the faintest sign of life, of recognition—anything. There was none.
She leaned closer, resting her forehead against his. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and for a long, quiet moment, the world around her seemed to disappear. The crowd, the looks, even her daughter's voice—all faded into silence.
My baby!
Auren moved quietly, his usual composure steady but strained. He knelt beside Liora, gently taking her hand in his. "Your big brother just needs rest, Liora," he said softly. His tone was calm, but his eyes betrayed the sorrow beneath.
Luna finally pulled back. Her movements were slow, deliberate, every breath measured. She took a cloth from her sleeve and wiped the drool from Kibo's chin, her touch unbearably gentle. Then she drew in a deep breath and forced a small, motherly smile—one that didn't reach her eyes. A single tear slipped free before she caught it.
She leaned in, her lips close to Kibo's ear, her voice dropping to a whisper that chilled the air around them. "Find my baby."
The words lingered like a spell, soft yet cutting.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, a faint twitch—barely there—moved through Kibo's finger. It was so small it could have been imagined. But Greed saw it. His lips curved into a quiet, knowing smile.
Luna straightened, her expression composed once more, as if nothing had passed. "Let us go, then," she said, her tone regal, unshaken.
She lifted Liora into her arms. The little girl clung to her neck, looking over her mother's shoulder at Kibo. "Mama, what's wrong with Big Brother?" she asked again, her voice trembling with confusion.
"Don't worry, my love," Luna murmured softly, her tone both soothing and distant. "Your big brother is resting."
They began to move, the group falling into solemn formation. Greed pushed Kibo's chair in silence, his eyes occasionally flicking to the motionless hand that had twitched.
Minutes passed in a quiet procession until they reached the outer doors. The cold night greeted them, heavy with grief. Above, the first Sky Lanterns floated into the dark, their golden light glimmering like souls ascending. The murmur of the gathered crowd drifted through the open gates—soft prayers, muffled sobs, the aching sound of a mourning people.
They walked out together through the grand entrance. Clayton closed the gates behind them, the creak of iron echoing through the night like a lament.
Beyond the gates, hundreds had gathered—black-clad figures holding lanterns, faces streaked with tears. The air smelled of candle wax and sorrow.
Liora looked around, frightened by the sea of weeping faces. "Mama… what's happening? Why is everyone sad?"
Luna did not answer. Her grip around her daughter tightened as they continued forward, her eyes locked on the distant light of the Nation Square.
Lily, walking beside them, felt her throat tighten. Everyone is mourning.
At the square's heart, the crowd parted without a word. The flickering lanterns cast long shadows across the cobblestones.
There, upon a great pyre of carved oak and incense wood, lay Subaru's glass casket. The light shimmered across its surface, illuminating the stillness of his face. Around the pyre stood those closest to him: Nox, Elias, and Kaya, their cheeks stained with tears. Ruin wept openly, her body shaking as Alya held her close.
Greed guided Kibo's chair to a respectful distance and stepped aside. Lily moved closer to Kibo, her hands trembling against the handles of the chair. Sora advanced to stand near Raphael, who bowed his head, silent and solemn.
Auren walked to the pyre. The crowd fell still as his shadow reached Subaru's side.
He stared at the body of his granduncle, at the calm face that once carried both wrath and wisdom. What would Granduncle tell me to say?
He looked up. The square was filled with the people of Dreadholm, all united in grief. The Elites stood watch, faces hard, but eyes wet. Among the crowd, Auren's gaze found Baek Dae-Won. His eyes met his, pain written deep into his features, but he did not step forward. He simply stood—watching, grieving, enduring.
Auren inhaled deeply, his chest rising as he steadied himself. The murmurs of the crowd filled the air, heavy with sorrow. He raised his head and roared, "Everyone!"
The single word echoed through the square like thunder. The cries ceased, the whispers faded. All eyes turned toward him.
He stood tall before the pyre, his voice carrying strength, though his hands trembled slightly at his sides. "I know how much pain all of you must be feeling right now. The news came so suddenly… too suddenly." His gaze swept over the sea of mourners. "The Order of Dreadholm and I apologize deeply. But I ask you… please, stay strong."
His words vibrated in the night air, carried even to those beyond the gates. "Our leader—our father, our friend, our guide—was many things. He was someone who never turned away when you were in need, who carried the burdens others could not. He stood for all of us."
A faint wind stirred through the square. The flames of the lanterns wavered like fragile hearts.
In the shadows between two buildings, Envy stood with Gluttony, their figures barely visible beneath the dim glow.
Auren's voice rang again, firm and resonant. "Our leader never let others suffer in silence. Even when he carried his own pain, he made sure no one else bore theirs alone. To some, he was a leader. To others, he was a teacher, a friend, an uncle… a granduncle… even a grandfather."
Gluttony blinked slowly, his expression vacant yet uncertain. "Subaru gone?" he murmured, as if the words didn't make sense in his mouth.
"Yes, Gluttony," Envy replied softly, his tone quiet, almost detached. "He is gone."
Gluttony's lower lip trembled. "He come back?"
Envy's eyes lingered on the pyre, the faint orange of the torches flickering across his mask. "No," he said. "He won't. Say your goodbyes."
Gluttony turned toward the pyre, watching the lifeless body within the glass. "Bye-bye," he whispered.
The ground beneath them rippled like liquid shadow. Slowly, both Demon Kings sank into the darkness, their forms dissolving until nothing remained.
From the crowd, Greed's cold gaze tracked the spot where they had vanished. He smiled faintly, though his expression betrayed nothing. So, they came to pay their respects.
Auren's voice lifted again, full of conviction. "Our leader wouldn't want us to be trapped in grief. He would want us to be strong…because this Nation was his dream. A home for all who were cast aside. A sanctuary for the weak, for the lost, for the broken."
He paused, his hand over his chest. "He knew this Nation wasn't perfect, that it never would be. Because we are people. We stumble, we fight, we fail. But together—through unity—we can move mountains and change the world."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the mourners. Even the children lifted their heads, listening.
Auren continued, his voice softening but carrying weight. "Even though our lord has left this world, his vision remains. And that vision now belongs to us—the next generation. We are the ones who must carry it forward. So let us stand, side by side, and find hope in this sorrow."
He turned to face Subaru's still form, his voice low but firm. "Before he left us, our lord made a final wish. He asked that his children—his family—be the ones to set his body to rest, so that he might finally find peace. He is always with us, in heart and spirit."
The crowd stirred, grief thick in the air. Kaya and Ruin stepped forward, carrying a small, ancient oil lamp whose flame flickered blue and gold. The faint scent of incense and sacred herbs filled the square. Together, they lit several thin wooden sticks from the flame, their hands steady despite their tears.
Ruin turned first to Auren, her eyes red. She offered him the first stick. Then to Raphael, whose face was hidden behind a trembling composure. She handed another to Luna, who accepted it with silent dignity, holding it gently for Liora. Then to Sora, and to Lily.
She paused at Kibo. His vacant stare remained fixed on the pyre. Greed extended his hand with a calm, unreadable smile. "Allow me," he said smoothly. His voice was soft, but there was something beneath it—something too deliberate, too careful. Ruin hesitated, then passed him the stick.
Kaya moved among the others, giving sticks to Nox, Elias, and the Elites. She stopped when she reached Baek Dae-Won, bowing deeply before offering his. Some of the youngest children wept too hard to take the flame. Kaya only nodded gently. "It's all right," she whispered. "He would understand."
Auren stepped forward again. "Those who carry the flame," he shouted, "come forth! Let us lay our leader to rest!"
The group began to move slowly toward the pyre, each step weighted with sorrow. The silence of the crowd deepened until even the sound of their feet against the stone seemed sacred.
Liora clutched the burning stick tightly, her hands shaking. "Mama, why do we have to burn Grandpa?" she cried.
Luna knelt beside her, cupping her daughter's face. "We must let him rest, my love," she whispered gently. "It's how we say goodbye."
"I can't!" Liora sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's bad, Mama! I don't want him to go!"
The air trembled with her cries.
The mourners gathered close, the pyre towering before them. Auren looked at Subaru's face one last time. Rest well, Granduncle.
He threw his stick upon the wood. The fire caught at once, licking upward, devouring the dry branches.
Raphael followed. Then Sora. Then Lily. One by one, the others came forward. Some children could not lift their arms, so Baek Dae-Won, Ruin, and Clayton gently guided their hands. The flames grew, their light painting every face with sorrow.
Liora shook her head violently, clutching Luna's sleeve. "Mama, please! I didn't even get to know him!"
Luna's lips trembled. "He will be proud of you, my baby," she whispered. She guided Liora's small hands, and together they cast their stick into the blaze.
The fire roared higher, swallowing the night. Liora buried her face into Luna's chest, sobbing uncontrollably.
Kibo was the last. His body did not move, but Greed stood behind him, smiling faintly. "Let him rest," he murmured, his tone smooth, almost gentle. He guided Kibo's hand forward, and together they let the stick fall.
As it touched the flame, the sky erupted in color. Thousands of lanterns ascended at once, drifting upward like souls freed from grief, their light bathing the night in quiet gold.
The crowd watched in silence. Some wept, some prayed, some simply stared as the fire grew brighter, roaring against the dark.
The flames danced wildly, reflecting in Kibo's lifeless eyes—two mirrors of hollow orange light.
And then, for just an instant, his fingers twitched again.
The lanterns kept rising. No one saw.
Only Greed smiled.