The atmosphere turned eerily silent—like the calm before a storm, or rather, the unsettling quiet left behind after a storm had ravaged everything in its path.
What should I do? Should I try it? Should I touch the corpse?
Kuro's thoughts stumbled, yet his trembling hands refused to listen. Almost against his will, his hand reached out toward Lilia's lifeless body. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead as he swallowed hard. Then, finally, his fingers made contact.
Kuro's eyes widened—his worst fears had come true.
The moment his skin brushed against Lilia's cold body; a blue spark surged through him. It blasted him backward with brutal force.
"Huff… huff…"
He breathed hard, his heavy breaths echoing in the quiet. His mind felt full and heavy, filled with strange memories—memories of how to use a power he had just obtained.
Artoria ran to him and knelt beside him, holding his shoulders, trying to calm him down.
"What happened?" she asked quickly.
But Kuro didn't answer. He didn't even hear her. He was lost, drowning in thoughts, in dread. His greatest fear had become a reality, and he didn't want to face it. He rose abruptly, brushing Artoria off without a glance, and ran toward Arthur.
He slid to a stop beside Arthur, who was barely conscious from his injuries. Kuro hesitated for only a heartbeat before raising his hand and drawing a cross in the air above Arthur's wounds. A green light shimmered—and the injuries began to heal.
Kuro stood frozen, watching in stunned silence. A crooked smile tugged at his lips. He almost laughed.
Arthur blinked slowly, relief flooding his battered body, but when he looked up, his expression hardened.
"What are you… Kuro?" he asked, uncertain.
Kuro's face was twisted, vicious. He looked like a hunter who had finally brought down his prey after countless failures.
Without a word, Kuro turned and walked toward the altar. Ignoring everything else, he stood tall, facing it. His body flickered with green light. The blood staining him began to evaporate. His wounds closed.
"How… can I do this?" he whispered, barely audible. Then, with a sudden jolt of desperation, he screamed, "Tell me how!"
His voice echoed violently through the dome.
Silence.
Artoria and Arthur stared at him in disbelief.
Arthur struggled to his feet. "Have you gone mad, Kuro?" he demanded. "Answer me!"
"Hahaha… I can steal them… I can steal powers…," Kuro collapsed to his knees, half-laughing, half-crying.
Arthur approached slowly, placing a hand on Kuro's shoulder—only to snatch it back the moment he felt Kuro's body trembling.
Artoria stepped forward cautiously.
But Kuro remained lost in his own mind.
What am I? Am I even human? What is this power? Where did it come from? Why me? Why always me?
"Kuro…"
A deep voice snapped him back to the present.
He looked up. Artoria was at the altar, struggling to lift the sword with her small hands.
"I'm sorry," Kuro said quietly, rising to his feet. "Arthur, help her. I'll tend to Rulet."
Kuro walked over to where Rulet lay unconscious. He bent down, raised his hand, and drew a cross shape over Rulet's chest. Green light flickered again, healing the wounds.
Rulet opened his eyes, confused. He felt better. Relief washed over him. But only one thought came to him. He quickly sat up.
"Lilia… is she okay?" he asked, breathing hard.
He stood up fast, full of hope—until he looked into Kuro's eyes. His heart sank.
"Where… where is Lilia?" he asked softly, between heavy breaths.
Kuro didn't answer. He just raised his hand and pointed at the body lying near the altar.
"You bastard… what did you do to her?"
Rulet grabbed Kuro by the collar and lifted him up. Kuro didn't react. He slowly looked away.
Rulet pushed him aside and ran toward Lilia.
Suddenly, the ground shook. Dirt fell from the ceiling of the dome.
Rulet stopped, looking around in panic. Kuro narrowed his eyes and looked at the altar. Artoria now held the sword in her hand. Arthur was helping her stand.
"This place is falling apart! Run!" Arthur shouted, grabbing Artoria's hand and heading for the exit.
Kuro followed quickly, but when he saw Rulet running back toward Lilia, he changed direction and ran to him. He grabbed Rulet's hand and pulled him away.
"What are you doing?! Let go of me!"
A large rock fell—right where Rulet had just been.
"She's dead. Just run. You're still alive," Kuro said.
"You damn god, don't try to teach me!", Rulet punched Kuro in the stomach.
Kuro didn't show any pain. Instead, he punched Rulet in the face.
"I'm no god. Just leave if you think her life meant something," Kuro said, walking away.
"Sorry…"
The word fell from Rulet's lips as he looked down, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he turned and ran.
They rushed through the same tunnel they had entered. Kuro's eyes scanned the walls, but the image of the vulture and the woman was gone.
The stone door remained shut.
Arthur clenched his fist and slammed it into the door. A shockwave pulsed through the air. The stone cracked and crumbled.
Sira and John, who had been waiting outside, ran forward. They looked at the group—but their faces went pale.
"Boss, where's Lilia?" John asked, his voice tight.
"Boss?" Sira said, breathing hard. "Where is Lilia?"
Silence.
"She's dead," Kuro finally said.
"What?" John said in shock.
"That psycho's lying," Sira said, stepping forward. "Boss, tell us where Lilia is." Sira asked again, her eyes filled with tears, she fell to her knees. "Why… why not her?" she cried, pointing at Artoria. "Why didn't she die?!"
The ground shook harder now. Rulet picked Sira up and helped her walk. Everyone moved away from the place as the ground behind them broke and collapsed, forming a huge crater.
Meanwhile, in the city of Duril…
Among the many shops in the upper ring, one pub glowed with life. People drank, laughed, and played games. The sound of joy filled the air.
DING! DING!
The door opened, and the bell above it chimed.
A man walked in, wearing a smooth, flowing robe with wide sleeves. His long, white hair fell past his waist. His face was hidden by a wide straw hat. He walked to the front desk and sat down.
"How may I help you, sir?"
A beautiful woman in a revealing dress leaned over the counter, her smile flirtatious.
"Call that greedy fish," the man said simply.
The woman immediately stood up and ran to the back door,
Then,
From behind the back door, just beyond the flickering lantern light, a voice slipped through, low and rough, yet strangely calm. It carried an ancient weight, the kind that didn't come from age alone but from a life lived in shadows,
"Well, well… If it isn't the legend himself.", A low chuckle followed, slow and knowing. "How long has it been…?"
The man in the straw hat didn't raise his head. He sat perfectly still, as if carved from marble, only the faint movement of his long white hair marking the passage of time. Then he finally spoke, "Just under two hundred years. Maybe a little less. But I suppose time moves strangely when you're not quite… part of it anymore."
Footsteps echoed behind the door.
Slow. Heavy. "And yet here you are," the voice replied. "Still wearing that same ghost of a smile. Still walking around like the world owes you something."