The room chosen for the council was intentionally small.
No banners, no grand table. Just a narrow chamber of stone and lamplight where the air felt too thick to breathe. The war hall was too public for this conversation. Too loud. Too full of eyes.
Here, there were no advisors. No guards.
Only those who could bear the weight of the choice about to be made—or be used by it.
Iroko Ryusei sat at the head of a short table. His posture was upright, but only through sheer force of will. His exhaustion was no longer concealed; it was carved across his shoulders like a brand.
Kouki Nozomi stood behind him, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Nogare leaned back in his chair with the calm of someone who had already accepted the future.
Yoshiya and Omina sat side-by-side, silent observers. Omina's hand rested lightly on Yoshiya's. Not pleading—anchoring.
Lia Shinsei sat with a ledger in her lap, feather pen poised. Recorder of truth, whether truth was honorable or not.
Anzuyi Bizen and Kaito Mugenrei sat together, both unreadable. Their presence here alone spoke of gravity.
Yaguro Aka stood near the door, arms folded like a barricade. He kept his distance from one presence in particular.
Zentake lounged against the far wall, swinging his blades like a bored child. The lamplight caught the crooked smile that never reached his eyes.
The room was nearly silent except for the faint scratching of Lia's pen.
Iroko finally exhaled. "We cannot win this war through numbers. Our allies are gone. Our defenses broken. We are already outmatched."
Nobody interrupted. There was no point.
"We must choose how we will survive," he said. "Even if survival costs us honor."
No one looked away. There was no honor left to lose.
Nogare was the one who finally broke the silence.
"We still have the manpower to kill two kings," he said, voice level. "If you allow those criminals."
Yaguro's fists tightened.
Zentake smiled lazily. "Criminals? They were never criminals to begin with." His eyes flicked across the room. "Just like us."
Lia glanced up, confused. "What do you mean?"
Nogare answered, voice flat. "We did what we believed was right. In our own worlds. In the shadows. In the daylight. But in their eyes, Each of us broke something."
"Because that was all we could do," Zentake added. His tone sweetened, mocking. He pointed, slowly, deliberately. "Isn't that right… Kaito Mugenrei?"
Kaito's glare sharpened, heavy and cold. "We are not the same."
The room's temperature dropped.
Kaito's chair scraped the floor as he rose. He did not speak. He didn't need to. His blade flashed halfway from its sheath.
Anzuyi stood and touched his wrist. No force. Just presence. Kaito stopped—but the fury didn't.
Iroko raised one hand.
Silence slammed the room shut again.
The king's voice was steady, but what lived beneath it was desperation sharpened to a blade's edge.
"Their power means nothing if we cannot control it." Iroko met every eye in the room. "Bargain with them. Bribe them. Threaten them. Bind them through contract if needed."
No one flinched.
No one objected.
Because they had run out of alternatives.
Kouki grimaced like he was swallowing poison. Omina's grip on Yoshiya's hand hardened.
Lia's pen paused—her breath trembling before it steadied.
Nogare exhaled softly, as if the moment he had predicted finally arrived. "Each of us carries a price," he said. "You allow Zentake to steal. And destroy. But only where it harms the enemy."
Zentake let out a delighted laugh. "A reasonable arrangement!"
Nogare continued, gaze turning colder. "You allow me to kill. Quietly. Cleanly. But only where death serves Ostoria."
Yaguro's glare sharpened, but he said nothing.
Zentake's voice cut through the hush. "And what of Mugenrei's price?" His grin turned poisonous. "Isn't it that young lady—?"
Kaito moved.
Not with fury—with intent to kill.
His sword left the sheath fully this time.
Zentake didn't flinch.
Anzuyi intercept the blade with her daggers, stopping it a hair from Zentake's throat. Sparks flickered. Metal groaned. Kaito's breathing was the only ragged sound.
After a long moment, Kaito clenched his jaw, forced the blade back into scabbard, and sat. His silence was louder than violence.
Nogare's tone didn't change. "And the price of Masaboru Hoshigare. Shinjitsu Jutsuzai. And Gaikotsu Honekuni. Their cost lies outside Korvath."
Yoshiya and Omina met the gaze, not defying, not accepting—just knowing.
They had stepped too far into this war to step out again.
Iroko leaned forward, voice low, weary, and final.
"We need to prepare."
No cheers.
No vows.
No fire in the blood.
Just the quiet acceptance that their hands were already stained.
The lamp flickered.
And no one breathed.
The war had changed shape again.
Not a march.
Not a siege.
But a hunt.