Silence blanketed the town hall.
Jack's corpse lay lifeless on the stone floor, surrounded by the bodies of the other knights. Veriant himself was dead in a pool of his own blood. A true massacre… and somehow, none of the five Unlocked had perished.
This was what it meant to be an Unlocked—war, blood, and pain. Elion had always known it in theory, but now he was truly baptized in its brutal reality. He had stepped through a door he could never return from.
Lumos stood near the King's Envoy's body, his clothes still stained with blood. Kellta lay where she had stood, eyes open beneath her mask, her body unmoving. Eshrod was unconscious, slumped against a support beam.
Farha… she was still standing, hunched slightly, knuckles white around the warhammer's hilt. Her shoulders rose and fell with each breath; a twisted smile cracked across her face.
At that moment, Elion wasn't entirely sure she was still with them. She looked so… different. He was almost afraid she might turn on them.
She must have noticed his concerned expression, because her eyes twitched, and her face returned to something vaguely normal.
Then the pain hit him. The wounds he'd sustained finally caught up. His bloodied wrist was still bleeding—dangerously so. His vision blurred as he dropped to one knee.
He needed help—and quickly. So did Kellta. In truth, they all did.
Passing through the village to reach Orm's house wasn't ideal—they had just murdered the chief, after all.
Elion couldn't help but wonder how it would affect the people living there. Had they doomed them all?
There was no time for those thoughts. The door to the town hall creaked open, revealing a charming young man with deep blue hair. He gasped at the macabre sight, his breathing turning erratic.
Orm scanned the blood-soaked room, his gaze landing on Kellta. He rushed to her side without even asking what had happened.
Not that he needed to—it was evident enough. The shaman had always known of the chief's ill will toward Light-Walkers, though most villagers remained oblivious.
That was why he had tried to hide them, to prevent the meeting with Veriant.
Even if he understood they'd had no choice but to fight, the loss of the chief and his militia was a heavy blow for the village. Dulan and his hunters were competent, but they lacked numbers and equipment.
Logistics would have to wait. When Orm knelt beside Kellta, he examined her wound with a pained expression.
"You really went and did it, huh…" he said. His voice didn't carry resentment—just observation.
Kellta smiled weakly beneath her mask.
"I guess so…"
Orm sighed.
"There are people outside. They heard the commotion as I did. I managed to hold them off—they trust me—but they'll find out soon enough."
His eyes swept over the battered Unlocked.
"It's clear their reaction won't be a positive one."
"We leave," Kellta said, rising with a wince of pain.
The charming shaman gave her a long look.
"I'll at least tend to your wounds," he said, before stepping outside to buy them some time.
Whatever he told the villagers, it worked—they were gone when the Unlocked exited the town hall. Taking a detour through the forest, they avoided being seen as they made their way to Orm's house.
Lumos took Jack's sword for himself. He wasn't a swordsman, but a well-crafted blade could always come in handy. The thought of taking the armor crossed Elion's mind too, but it didn't feel right… and heavy armor would only slow them down.
Orm treated their wounds with care. Eshrod was in the worst shape—shattered ribs and internal bleeding. The shaman's runes sped up the healing process significantly, but it wasn't instant. She would need a few days—time they didn't have.
"I'm fine, don't worry," she said, wincing as she stood.
"You need more time to heal," Orm insisted.
"We don't have that time. You know the danger we're in. You're in," Kellta replied, locking eyes with him.
He held her gaze in silence, losing himself in her tired purple eyes for a moment before scratching the back of his neck and looking away.
"I know… things aren't ideal. But still."
Elion stared down at his bandaged wrist with a blank expression. A numbing pain still lingered in his forearm. He was lucky he hadn't lost function in his left hand, but it was a bad wound.
His gaze flicked to Farha. She was in better shape than the others. She'd taken a few hits and cuts, but nothing serious. Still, there was something strange about her expression—like something deep inside had been satiated… for now.
It made him shiver.
Lumos sat quietly in a corner, studying the runes on his skin. Occasionally, he shifted them using his ability, letting the ink twist into new forms.
***
Kellta was torn.
We can't stay here.
That much was certain. But a part of her wanted to. The day she'd spent here with Orm, she'd enjoyed it more than all the years she'd spent alone in the forest combined. She wasn't ready to leave him behind again—and this time, maybe forever.
No. With what we've done, we're only endangering him.
Her eyes drifted to the shaman, who watched her expression quietly. He had matured a lot since she had last seen him… four years ago.
"Thanks for everything, Orm," she whispered.
His expression fell slightly, but he hid it well.
"It was my pleasure."
He looked away, a storm of thoughts behind his eyes.
Kellta stood, gathering her things. The rest of the Unlocked followed suit, though they had little left—their packs had been lost fleeing the Class IV. They stood at the door, ready to continue their journey.
Lumos had been brought up to speed. He was surprised by their situation—and the fact that they'd survived the Depths as new Unlocked. He decided to join them; even for him, climbing back alone would be a grueling task. Something about recharging the runes, though—as always—he was vague.
"I owe you one… and I can't, in good conscience, let kids die in the Depths while I take refuge in Nexus," he had said to Elion.
Orm saw them off, handing them some provisions. A welcome gift, considering their ration bars were gone.
"Promise me you'll come back," he said, standing in front of Kellta.
She wanted to say something—to reassure him—but she couldn't promise that. She didn't even know if she'd survive.
The fire-wielding imp sighed.
"I—"
Before she could finish, Orm pulled her into a passionate kiss.
Ah, this son of a bitch. I don't know how long I've waited for you to do something like that, but now? Really?
Yet she didn't care. She let herself go, just this once. Her fingers curled around the back of his head, and he tightened his grip on her hips.
Orm chuckled awkwardly.
"Now you have to come back."
"You really are a selfish bastard, huh…" Kellta said playfully as the shaman scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.
She looked into his dark eyes. Her expression a mix of sadness and hope.
After a long pause, she whispered,
"Yeah… I'll be back."
***
Eshrod, standing next to Elion and Farha, watched the scene with quiet amusement.
"Cutest little imps," she muttered.
Her gaze shifted to the young cook. She squinted her one good eye.
Noticing, Elion groaned,
"Not even in your wildest dreams."
She chuckled.
"Why? Am I not good enough for you?"
Her gaze flicked briefly to Farha, who watched everything with quiet detachment.
"Or maybe you've got someone else in mind?"
"Eshrod, please stop."
Truth be told, he did like Farha a little. He'd be lying to himself if he said otherwise. But there were too many unknowns about her. Too many dangers. The possibility that she was a princess of Uru, the way she snapped into murderous states during battle… Just the aura she gave off beneath that quiet, reserved exterior—it was enough to make him wary.
Eshrod laughed heartily and slapped him on the back.
"Don't worry. I wouldn't date someone like you. Too… scrawny."