POV: Yoshiya
The air smelled of blood and ash. The pit where the hostages had been buried was already covered in loose soil, though the earth still bled red in patches. Nogare said nothing, his expression unreadable, as he wiped his blade on a torn cloth and motioned for them to pack.
Yoshiya's hands moved automatically—tying ropes, lifting crates, fastening the straps of the caravan—while his mind replayed the screams that had been cut short. Zentake was already piling gear onto the cart, his movements quick and jittery, muttering that everything now belonged to him. Even the empty pots and burned-out lanterns, he hoarded like treasure.
Nogare stood apart, silent, his cloak stained at the hem. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, almost calm.
"We move east. No trace left behind."
They obeyed.
The caravan creaked under the weight of hastily packed supplies. As the horses neighed restlessly, Nogare turned to Omina.
"You've learned how to tame beasts, haven't you? Then take these two."
Omina blinked, a little uncertain. "You mean… me? I've only practiced with smaller creatures."
"Then this will test you." Nogare's tone made it clear—this was not a suggestion.
Yoshiya watched as Omina approached the two nervous stallions. They stomped and tossed their heads, nostrils flaring. She remembered Char Kway's lessons—the Four Steps.
First, Bonding. She spoke softly, letting the horses catch her scent, her mana flowing like a steady hum. Their eyes softened.
Second, Offering. She took the leftover meat from breakfast, still warm, and laid it before them.
Third, Linking. She whispered, "Beast Link," her hand glowing faintly as a green current flowed from her palm into their foreheads. The horses shivered, and runes of light appeared briefly, swirling like mist before settling into faint marks above their brows.
Finally, Marking. A pulse of mana sealed the connection. The horses bowed their heads.
Yoshiya couldn't help but smile. "You're getting good at this."
Omina returned to the caravan, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Let's see if they actually listen to me."
They rode fast. The forest thinned, giving way to blackened hills and a sky smeared with crimson. The road toward Giggleburg was cracked and littered with debris—like the land itself had been scorched by magic.
Nogare and Zentake rode at the back. Zentake was busy counting, rearranging, claiming ownership of every item in reach. Nogare sat still, eyes closed, as if meditating.
Yoshiya and Omina led the front, the horses responding smoothly under her control. The silence between them was heavy until Nogare finally broke it.
"Yoshiya. Do you wish to know what the scroll contained?"
Yoshiya looked over his shoulder. "That scroll?"
Nogare nodded. "It may aid you in your battle against Frostholm."
"Frostholm?" Yoshiya frowned. "Why there? The war is in Giggleburg and Bustleburg."
Nogare's lips curled faintly. "There will be no war in Giggleburg. And by the time you reach Bustleburg, the fighting will already be over."
That made Yoshiya's stomach turn. "Then what's coming?"
"See for yourself."
"Try purifying it," Nogare said.
Omina frowned. "Purify? It's just parchment. What's to purify?"
"Do it," Nogare insisted.
Reluctantly, Yoshiya raised his hand. "Purify."
Light burst from the scroll—brilliant emerald, filling the air with shimmering motes. The markings writhed and dissolved, the parchment burning into mist before vanishing entirely.
Omina coughed, waving away the glow. "That's it? What a waste."
But Yoshiya felt something different—an icy pulse beneath his skin, like new mana threading through his veins. His vision sharpened. The world shimmered faintly with outlines of energy, unseen before.
"Something changed," he murmured. "I can feel it… but I can't tell what."
Nogare's voice came low. "You will understand soon. Frostholm awaits."
Hours later, they reached the border. The road sloped downward into a valley shrouded in ash and black fog. Before them stretched Giggleburg—the city of shadows and despair.
Once, Yoshiya had heard it described as a radiant metropolis of silver towers and shimmering canals. Now, those towers lay broken, twisted like the ribs of a dying god. Steel beams jutted from the ruins. The wind carried the faint stench of burnt sulfur.
The streets were cracked veins of stone, choked with rubble and silence. Every so often, faint glows flickered among the debris—corrupted mana leaking from the ground like mist.
Omina tightened her grip on the reins. "This place… it's cursed."
Nogare's eyes opened, gleaming faintly under the hood. "Cursed, yes. But also alive."
From somewhere in the distance came a sound—neither human nor beast. A chorus of whispers, deep and layered, echoing through the bones of the ruined city.
"Demons," Nogare said calmly. "They've taken the streets. The temples became gateways long ago."
Zentake swallowed hard, glancing at the dark skyline. "And we're going in there."
Nogare's answer was simple. "Yes. The city holds what remains of Valeria's heart."
The caravan rolled forward into the shadowed ruins, wheels crunching over fragments of glass and bone. The mist thickened, swallowing sound, until all that remained was the faint green glow around Yoshiya's hands—the lingering light of the purified scroll.
It pulsed once, softly, as if answering the darkness ahead.