The winds howled around us as Ranga tore across the Jura Forest like a living storm, Shizu pressed tightly against my back. We were moving fast—faster than most could imagine—yet not fast enough. Not for what waited ahead.
Behind us, a few smaller direwolves trailed close, their riders holding tight: Rigur, pale and tense, and several Abyss Spiders—massive, chittering things that devoured the road with each stride, their limbs knocking down trees like they were brittle twigs.
I glanced back, unnerved by the sound of branches snapping under their grotesque rhythm.
"...That thing might be overkill," I muttered under my breath.
Shizu sighed beside me, following my gaze. "You think?"
There was a pause, then she asked, more quietly, "Couldn't you have done things differently?"
I blinked, unsure what she meant at first. "...No, I don't think I could affect how that one evolved—"
"Not that," she cut in sharply, rolling her eyes, but there was no humor in it. "The ogre village. If you were already planning to save them… why wait this long?"
Her voice trembled, just barely. I could feel her eyes on me. Accusing. Hurt.
"What do you mean?" I asked, already knowing where this was going.
"You knew they were going to be attacked. You've known for days. Why couldn't we have warned them? Moved them closer? Done something?"
I met her gaze over my shoulder. Held it.
Then looked away.
"…I needed them to be attacked," I said. Blunt. Honest. Cold.
The silence that followed felt like the air had frozen.
"You what?" Her voice was hushed—barely audible over the wind—but it cut deeper than any blade.
I didn't turn to face her. I didn't have the right to.
"The ogres are proud. Stubborn. Powerful. If we saved them before they bled, they'd never look at us as equals. Let alone allies. They'd smile. Nod. And walk away when the next storm comes."
I inhaled through my teeth.
"But if we arrive after everything they've known is reduced to ash… If we're the hand that pulls them out of the fire—then we don't just get warriors. We get loyalty. Unshakable loyalty. The kind you can build a family on."
My fingers curled tighter into Ranga's fur. I didn't expect forgiveness. Or understanding.
"I know what that makes me," I said, the words rough. "I'm willing to let people hate me. Wary of me. I'll even let them curse my name if that's the price."
Her silence pressed harder now. Not cold. Not cruel.
Just… there.
I exhaled.
"If sacrificing their peace now means securing our future… If letting others burn is what it takes to keep you alive, then I'll light the match myself."
A pause. My voice fell softer.
"Because I'd rather you hate me than be buried before me."
The first curls of smoke reached us then—thin at first, then thick. The trees opened up, revealing the ogre village in the distance.
Flames danced across rooftops.
Screams echoed through the forest.
I felt Shizu shift behind me.
Still wordless.
Still listening.
Then she moved—rising to her feet on Ranga's back like a whisper came to life, the wind pulling at her hair and mask.
"Shizu," I murmured, though I wasn't sure what I was trying to say.
She didn't answer.
She didn't look at me.
Just as the blaze came into view—she leapt.
One smooth, graceful motion, descending like a falling star.
She didn't scream.
She didn't scold.
She just whispered, almost too soft to hear.
"…Idiot."
And vanished into the fire.
A flicker of white and red swallowed by flames.
"…Idiot," I echoed under my breath, a wry, bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
Maybe she was right.
Maybe I was an idiot.
I wasn't sure anymore. Maybe that was the cost of seeing too far ahead—the world becomes a game of pieces and positions, and you start forgetting they bleed.
Ranga leapt over the last ridge, and we landed just before the outskirts of the burning village. The air was thick with ash and screams. A breeze carried the iron stench of blood, and standing in the middle of it all was Fenral—already waiting, already drenched in crimson. None of it was his own.
He didn't speak. Just turned to me, silent and steady, the blood of orcs dripping from his claws.
He was waiting for the order.
I gave it without hesitation.
"Slaughter every orc you find."
Fenral bowed his head, and a low growl echoed through the link.
"Save every ogre you can. Every last one."
Ranga nodded. Then he vanished like a shadow, everyone else following suit.
I didn't follow immediately. I stood there for a moment—alone, like always—watching the chaos I had orchestrated unfold around me.
Not because I enjoyed it.
Not because it gave me power.
But because this was the only way to remind myself the burdens that I had to carry.
-
I arrived a beat too late.
Shizu stood in the clearing, her sword still faintly glowing. Beside her was a young girl, an ogre to be specific, her pink hair matted with dirt and blood. She was trembling, barely conscious, eyes wide with the kind of fear that stays long after the danger has passed.
Shizu knelt beside her, gently patting her head with the care of someone who had once been small and scared herself.
I didn't interrupt.
Didn't speak.
I stepped forward quietly and held out two full potions. Shizu looked up—her mask hiding her face, but not the recognition in her gaze—and took them without a word.
Then I looked down.
At her.
The girl.
Shuna.
She stared up at me—not with awe, not with the reverence I'd grown used to from the others.
But with something far worse.
Sympathy.
"... Heavy is the crown after all," I whispered to myself and averted my gaze, towards the towering flames.