The smell of smoke hung heavy in the air.
The fire burned low, its orange light throwing shadows across the half-built barricade and the rough tier-1 house Kairo had built as his shelter.
He sat cross-legged near the flames, carefully turning a stick with a chunk of roasted meat skewered on it. Next to the fire, in his usual, strangely devoted post, the fire-manager ghoul sat watching. Its hollow eyes flickered in the firelight, jaw slightly open as though the creature longed for food it could never eat.
"This is it," Kairo muttered, frowning at the small pile beside him. "Last of the meat. Last of the potatoes too."
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his wrist. His fourth day in this world, and already he was scraping the bottom of the barrel for food again. But somehow, the act of roasting, eating, and simply doing something that felt human steadied him.
The ghoul beside him made a low, rattling sound. Almost… disappointed.
Kairo chuckled. "Don't look at me like that. You can't eat, remember? You're the one who made this fire, so just… sit proud or something."
The ghoul tilted its head in that eerie, puppet-like way. Kairo swore it almost understood.
That was when he heard movement from inside the house. Slow, dragging his tail on the ground. A figure emerged, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Brown scales catching the firelight, crimson eyes narrowed, two black horns jutting out from his head.
Shiri.
The naga blacksmith looked worse for wear, but his posture carried a pride that sickness and wounds couldn't erase. His gaze flicked from the fire to the food Kairo was turning over the flames.
Kairo noticed. "Hungry?"
Shiri's eyes hardened. "I don't take food from lords."
Kairo blinked, then smirked. "Lucky for you, I'm not that kind of lord." He jabbed the stick toward Shiri. "Take it. You'll just starve if you keep pretending you're too proud."
The naga scowled. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, with an irritated grunt, he crawled closer, took the stick, and sat heavily on the ground a few paces away.
He sniffed the meat first. His expression betrayed nothing. Slowly, he tore a bite with his sharp teeth.
The fire-manager ghoul leaned closer, jaw creaking as if it wanted to taste too. Kairo pushed it back with one hand. "Hey. Don't scare the guest."
For several minutes, silence reigned—except for the crackle of fire and the sound of chewing.
Kairo finally broke it. "Well?"
Shiri swallowed, crimson eyes shifting toward him. "Below average."
Kairo froze, mouth half-open. "What?"
"Too much char. The meat's uneven. The potato… mushy in places, dry in others. Below average."
Kairo's shoulders slumped. "...Man. I was proud of that one."
Shiri smirked faintly, which somehow made the insult worse.
The ghoul rattled its teeth, as though laughing with Shiri. Kairo threw his hands up. "Oh, great. Both of you against me. This is what I get for trying."
He bit into his own share and winced at the burnt crust. Maybe Shiri had a point.
After a few more bites, Shiri leaned back, resting his arms on his knees. "So. What do you intend to do with me? I assume you didn't save me out of kindness."
Kairo frowned. "What do you mean?"
The naga tilted his head. "Will you force me to craft for you? Make weapons even though I'm injured? That's what lords do, isn't it? Use and discard?"
The words had an edge, sharp enough to draw blood if Kairo took them too seriously.
He shook his head. "No. I wouldn't do that. I just… thought you should rest. You look like you'd break if I handed you a stick, much less a hammer."
Shiri blinked, caught off guard for just a moment. Then he gave a low, humorless laugh. "Hmph. Rest, he says. Well, rest is all I can do anyway. I lost my hammer. Without it, I couldn't forge even if I wanted to."
He glanced around at the territory—the rough barricade, the scraps of wood piled near the unfinished wall, the scavenger ghouls shuffling in the shadows like loyal dogs.
("A new lord,") Shiri thought. ("Young. Unseasoned. He doesn't even realize how exposed he is. If I wished, I could escape once I regain my strength.")
He didn't say it aloud, but the thought burned in his mind.
Kairo caught the look but said nothing. Instead, he poked at the fire and shifted the subject. "About that monster in the burned village. I wasn't kidding. I want to take it down. You said you wanted revenge. We can do it together."
Shiri barked out a short laugh. "Together? You? With this?" He waved a hand toward the ghouls. "That beast will crush you."
Kairo didn't flinch. "Yeah. Probably. But not forever."
His voice carried a quiet certainty. He pulled open the Command Nexus, its holographic screen visible only to him. Shiri noticed the distant look in his eyes but didn't press.
The interface pulsed, showing him information he hadn't seen before.
[Relic Upgrade Function: Available]
Kairo muttered under his breath. "So relics can be upgraded once before ascending to the next tier…"
His gaze fell to the Blood-Stained Banner. His ghouls. He could feel their hunger for growth, their claws scratching for more power.
If he upgraded them, they wouldn't just be scavengers anymore. They'd be soldiers.
Kairo clenched his fist. "Then that's how we'll start. If I can't beat that monster with this, then I'll make my army stronger until I can."
Across from him, Shiri studied his face, eyes narrowing slightly. That determination wasn't the cruel ambition of the lords he had known. It was something steadier, rougher, but sincere.
Different.
Shiri leaned back against the wall, eyelids heavy. "Bold words. But boldness alone doesn't win wars."
"Yeah," Kairo said quietly. "That's why I plan."
The naga let out a faint chuckle and closed his eyes. "Then plan. Wake me when you've figured out how to fight gods with sticks."
Within minutes, his breathing slowed, and he drifted back to sleep.
Kairo stared at the fire a while longer. The fire-manager ghoul beside him shifted, letting out a small rattle that almost sounded like a sigh.
Kairo looked at it and shook his head. "Don't look so disappointed. We'll make this work. Somehow."
The flames crackled low, shadows dancing across his tired face. The night deepened, and in that silence, he decided.
Tomorrow, the first step toward strength would begin.