The rain had stopped, but the world still felt drowned. Smoke and ash hung in the sky over the battlefield, painting the horizon in hues of rust and gray. Reiji stood amidst the wreckage — a lone silhouette in a land of corpses and steel. His blade, once silver, was now blackened with soot and blood. The smell of iron was so thick it felt like it was burning his lungs.
The silence that followed the war cry was heavier than any scream. Wind carried the faint echo of falling metal — shattered weapons, broken armor, and the final breaths of soldiers who no longer dreamed. The war was not over, but the field before him had already been claimed by death.
Kaede's words still rang in his mind — "You cannot save a world built on chains."
He had believed her once. Now, he wasn't sure if anything could be saved at all.
Behind him, the remnants of the Vanguard gathered. Men and women wrapped in tattered cloaks, faces hidden beneath helmets scratched beyond recognition. They no longer looked like soldiers — just ghosts wearing the memory of their uniforms.
"Commander," said one of them — a young man named Akira, his voice trembling. "The enemy has retreated past the river. The southern line is ours."
Reiji didn't turn. His eyes were fixed on the smoke rising in the distance — the capital of Velthar, now a black smear against the horizon. "Ours?" he muttered. "Nothing here belongs to anyone anymore."
The soldier said nothing. None of them did.
Reiji slowly knelt and touched the ground. The earth was still warm, as if it remembered the flames. He picked up a small fragment — a broken insignia bearing the emblem of the fallen empire. Its edge was jagged, and when he squeezed it, blood drew from his palm.
"How many died believing in this?" he whispered.
The question wasn't for anyone to answer. It was for the ghosts.
He rose, eyes cold. "Burn the remaining camps. Gather the wounded. We move at dawn."
Akira hesitated. "And the bodies, Commander?"
Reiji looked over the endless field of corpses. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then — "Leave them. The earth will decide what to keep."
The soldier bowed and left.
As the Vanguard dispersed, Reiji turned toward the north. The mountains loomed beyond the smoke, their peaks wrapped in mist. Somewhere beyond them lay the remnants of the old world — the Codex, the whispers, the unseen strings that had dragged them all into this.
He sheathed his sword and began to walk.
Each step felt heavier, the mud clinging to his boots like guilt. He passed a fallen enemy — a commander he once met in negotiation, now just another corpse in armor. Reiji's gaze lingered.
"You fought for your truth," he murmured. "And I for mine. In the end, we were both wrong."
Lightning flashed distantly, revealing the outline of Kaede approaching from the far ridge. Her cloak fluttered in the wind, her face pale but fierce.
"Reiji," she called. "It's over. For now."
He didn't stop walking. "Wars don't end. They only wait."
Kaede caught up beside him, her eyes searching his face. "You can't carry all of this alone."
Reiji's jaw tightened. "Then tell me who else will."
She fell silent. The wind howled between them, carrying ashes that stuck to their clothes like memories refusing to fade.
After a while, Kaede whispered, "I found something in the enemy's archives — a record about the Codex. It mentions a place beyond the northern border. Something called 'The Silent Spire.'"
Reiji stopped. "The Spire…" He had heard that name once, long ago, in the whispers of dying men. "A tower built before the first empire — where silence itself was sealed."
Kaede nodded. "If the Codex exists, it's connected to that tower."
For the first time in hours, a flicker of something crossed Reiji's eyes — not hope, but purpose. "Then that's where we go."
Kaede frowned. "You're wounded, Reiji. You haven't slept in days. If you keep pushing—"
"I can rest when I forget their screams."
She didn't argue further. She knew there was no point. The Reiji who once fought for ideals had long been buried under the ashes of necessity. What remained was the blade — the iron will that refused to die even when the man had already begun to fade.
As night fell, the remnants of the Vanguard set camp along the riverbank. Fires flickered weakly in the dark, the light barely reaching the edges of the encampment. Reiji sat alone by the river, watching the reflection of the burning city downstream.
Kaede approached silently and placed a small tin cup beside him. "You should eat."
He didn't respond. His gaze was fixed on the distorted reflection of his own face in the water — scarred, hollow-eyed, and barely human.
"I keep thinking," Kaede said softly, sitting beside him. "What if the Codex isn't what we think it is? What if it's not salvation, but a curse that keeps this world from dying?"
Reiji's lips curved faintly. "Then I'll break it. One way or another."
A long silence stretched between them. The sound of crackling fire and distant thunder filled the air.
Then — a faint echo reached them. Metal clashing, faint but rhythmic. Reiji rose instantly, hand on his sword.
"Scouts?" Kaede asked.
Reiji shook his head. "No. Too organized."
The camp stirred. Shadows moved at the edge of the firelight — silhouettes gliding through the mist. The first arrow struck the dirt near Reiji's feet. Then another.
"Ambush!" someone yelled.
Chaos erupted. Steel clanged, men screamed. The night exploded into red.
Reiji drew his blade, the metal humming as it cut through the air. The first enemy fell before he could even cry out — his throat split open in one motion. Kaede moved beside him, daggers flashing like twin streaks of light.
The attackers wore no insignia. Their armor was dark, their faces covered. But their formation was perfect — too perfect. These were not remnants or raiders.
"Who are they?" Kaede shouted between strikes.
Reiji parried a blow, twisted his wrist, and drove his sword through the attacker's chest. "Not soldiers. Hunters."
"Sent by who?"
Reiji looked beyond the flames, where a figure stood watching — cloaked, silent, with eyes like burning coals.
He knew those eyes.
"The Codex," he said under his breath.
The figure raised a hand — and the battlefield erupted in a wave of light.
When it faded, only silence remained.
Reiji stood in the ashes once more, surrounded by the smell of blood and iron. The world spun, and for a moment, he saw something — a reflection of a tower reaching into the storm, wrapped in chains of light.
Kaede's voice reached him faintly through the haze. "Reiji! Stay with me!"
He blinked. The vision faded. Only the fire remained.
As the survivors regrouped, Reiji sheathed his blade slowly. His voice was calm, but beneath it lay something darker — a promise forged in ruin.
"We move north," he said. "To the Spire. To end this."
Kaede looked at him, eyes full of unspoken fear.
And as dawn broke over the dead, Reiji's shadow stretched long across the scorched earth — a silhouette made of ashes and iron.