"You're welcome?"
Lucy's voice was hoarse, scraped raw by screams and ether burn, but the edge in it was still sharp enough to cut. She lay half-reclined against a fractured stone slab, eyes narrowed as she looked up at the Hornblest.
"I didn't really ask for your help now, did I?"
Bale Ardani laughed—not loud, not mocking, just a breathy exhale through his nose as if the idea itself amused him. He rolled his shoulders, the golden jewelry at his neck chiming softly.
"Yeah," he said, "but it's not like you didn't need it."
Lucy clicked her tongue, then winced as the movement tugged at still-healing bruises. The green flame had dulled the pain, not erased it. Her body remembered violence even when the wounds faded.
"You're right," she admitted after a moment. "Thank you. But why go through the trouble of saving me?"
Bale didn't answer immediately.
He paced a short circle around her, boots crunching against cold stone. His horns caught the low light of Wister's crimson sky, casting long shadows that bent and twisted across the ground. For a heartbeat, Lucy thought he looked less like a man and more like a walking monument—something carved for war and forgotten by time.
"I'm gonna need strong allies," Bale said finally, stopping. "If I'm gonna survive this sick game to the end."
Lucy's gaze sharpened.
"But what if," she said slowly, "you end up forced to kill those allies?"
The wind howled between the ruins, carrying distant screams from elsewhere on the island. Bale stared out into the Stone Fields as if listening to ghosts only he could hear.
"I can only hope," he said, voice low, "it doesn't come to that."
Silence settled between them—not awkward, not peaceful. Just heavy.
Bale turned, walked back, and sat on a moss-covered boulder beside Lucy. The stone cracked slightly under his weight.
"So," he said, glancing at her sideways, "what's your story? It must be insane. You've got an inverted crown."
Lucy stiffened.
Her hand twitched instinctively toward her chest, where the invisible weight of that crown pressed against her existence. The Inverted Crown—mark of contradiction, omen of calamity, symbol of something Wister itself had not intended.
She stared down at the bloodstained stone between her boots.
A minute passed.
Then she sighed.
"I don't really have much of a story," she said. "Just a few bad decisions."
Bale raised an eyebrow.
"Bad enough to get you classified as an Anomaly-class mage," she continued. "That's really all there is."
"Huh," Bale said. "Well… we've got the bad decision thing in common, Lucy."
She looked up sharply. "How do you know my name? I didn't tell you."
Bale grinned, all teeth and confidence. "Oh, I just asked the DUCK."
"The duck?" Lucy tilted her head, genuinely confused.
"Yeah. The DUCK," Bale said, emphasizing every letter. "Dummy Unlocking Common Knowledge. It's a companion aid—Wister War standard issue. Gives you info that didn't make it into the mind-dump at the start."
Lucy blinked. Then blinked again.
"…Oh," she said. "I see."
She paused, then frowned. "That thing's been counting my kills. I didn't know it could do that."
"It can do a lot more," Bale replied. "You should really talk to it sometime. Weird little bastard, but useful."
Lucy let out a short huff of breath. Then her expression shifted, more serious.
"So," she said, "can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Why are you here?"
Bale leaned back, resting his forearms on his knees.
"Me?" he said. "Well. I'm an Ardani. A strong one at that. But I'm not part of the main family."
Lucy nodded slowly. Old Earth families were like that—roots thick with pride, branches heavy with hierarchy.
"So," Bale continued, "what better way to show my worth than becoming a battle mage?"
Lucy's eyes softened just a little.
"So you're kinda like Adam."
Bale turned his head. "Who's Adam?"
"He's a friend of mine," Lucy said. "He's also in the war to become a battle mage. Old Earth family too."
Bale's interest sharpened. "Which one?"
"Cerimona," Lucy replied. "He's actually the son of the house lord."
Bale whistled low. "Cerimona, huh. Ardani and Cerimona aren't exactly on the best of terms."
Lucy grimaced. "I know."
"But," Bale went on, "if he's strong, he could make a good ally. What would you say?"
Lucy didn't hesitate. "Definitely. But I don't know if we're on the same island."
Bale shrugged. "Just ask your duck."
Lucy closed her eyes.
DUCK, she thought, feeling faintly ridiculous. Locations. All my friends.
The response came instantly, flooding her awareness with clean, cold precision.
She exhaled.
"Okay," she said. "Adam's on the Stone Fields… but he's on the other end of the island. North. Abbie's in the Bleeding Forest. Nark's in the Red Desert."
Bale grimaced. "Crossing regions is prohibited."
"Yeah," Lucy muttered.
"So our best bet," Bale said, "is getting to your friend Adam."
Lucy nodded. "Makes sense. We're supposed to head to the Falling Mountains anyway. That's north, right?"
"Yeah," Bale said, rising to his feet. "But that's gonna take a while. And I gotta get my kill ratio higher."
Lucy pushed herself up, testing her legs. They trembled—but held.
"We can do that on the way," she said, eyes gleaming faintly with ether. "So let's get to it."
They rested only a little longer.
Then they moved.
The Stone Fields swallowed them as they advanced—endless grey corridors and towering slabs rising like the bones of a dead god. The violent wind picked up, screaming through narrow passages, carrying the scent of blood and ozone.
As they walked, Bale spoke.
"First thing we need," he said, "is mana drives."
Lucy frowned. "From where?"
"Game guardians."
The name alone made the air feel heavier.
"Golden Moon mages," Bale continued. "Deployed on Wister to make sure the war plays out the way it's meant to."
"And their real purpose?" Lucy asked, already sensing the answer.
Bale's expression hardened. "Sacrifices."
Lucy slowed.
"There are ten million of them," Bale said. "Exact number needed for the survivors."
Lucy's stomach twisted.
"Players get a drive by stealing it from guardians," Bale went on. "Anyone without one gets culled on the final day. Doesn't matter how high their kill ratio is."
Lucy felt cold.
"It's in the rules," Bale said quietly. "Just not openly stated."
"To survive," Lucy murmured, "you need a mana drive and a high enough kill ratio."
Bale nodded. "Day one's still early. Area saturation hasn't started yet. Best time to hunt guardians. Get drives. Stock up on Nirvra. Enough to last the thirteen days."
Lucy looked out across the Stone Fields, where distant flashes of ether lit the horizon like dying stars.
"Then we look for Adam," she said.
"And anyone else worth keeping alive," Bale added.
They walked on.
Behind them, the Stone Fields howled.
Ahead of them, the war waited.
And somewhere, unseen but watching, the duck smiled and kept counting.