The mansion of King Longunard had grown uncharacteristically quiet. Once filled with chatter and servants, its halls now carried only the echo of the ticking clock in Rena's study.
She sat behind her desk, golden hair fluttering lightly as a cool breeze slipped through the open window. Her eyes were closed, face calm—yet the stillness around her felt heavy, as if thoughts too numerous for words pressed down upon her.
Then came a soft knock.
"Enter," Rena said without opening her eyes.
Rika stepped in, hesitant. For a moment she said nothing, clasping her hands as if gathering the courage to speak.
"What is it, Rika," Rena asked quietly, "that you would disturb my peace at this hour?"
Rika's lips trembled before she finally spoke. "I think we should abandon the expedition, Goddess."
Rena's eyes opened. The air in the room seemed to still further.
"Care to explain," she said, voice even, though her gaze was sharp. "Your reason may decide whether I'm merely displeased… or furious."
Rika swallowed. "The class is in disarray, ma'am. Even with training, morale is low. We've lost three of our own, and their absence still weighs on everyone."
Rena studied her for a long moment. "Is that all?"
Rika nodded. "That is all."
"Very well," Rena said at last. "You may go."
Rika bowed slightly and turned to leave, leaving Rena's alone once again.
Rena then voiced.
"Tell me, Purge," she said softly.
From the shadows, dark figures stepped forward—her unseen guards.
"Is the girl's report true?"
One of them answered, "It is, my lady. The class's spirit is broken."
Rena leaned back, expression unreadable. "Then you are dismissed."
As the Purge melted once more into shadow, she exhaled quietly.
"I expected more from them… perhaps I pushed too hard," she murmured, looking out at the moonlight. "Still, the plan is already complete. Let them rest—for now."
The corridors of the mansion were dim as Rika walked back to her room. Her mind was restless, looping over every word she'd said.
"I hope she agrees," she whispered to herself.
Passing one of the rooms, she paused at a half-open door. Arthur lay asleep inside, bandages around his ribs, face drawn from pain.
"Good," Rika breathed, closing the door softly.
Arthur's wounds might heal, but the weight he carried would not. He blamed himself for their fallen classmates.
Rika sighed, continuing down the hall—only to find Muichiro waiting outside her room.
"Muichiro?" she asked, startled. "What are you doing here?"
He met her eyes calmly. "Can we talk? It won't take long."
She gestured him inside.
Muichiro wasn't someone Rika knew well. He was quiet, distant—so much so that he often reminded her of Yuta. But there was something steadier about him, something quietly determined.
"Would you like some tea?" she offered.
He shook his head. "That won't be necessary."
He sat, posture straight. "I don't like how Arthur's handling everything," he said. "He's drowning in guilt, and someone has to pull him out."
Rika blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness.
"I know we can't defeat Baruka yet," Muichiro continued, "but that doesn't mean the ones we lost blame us. In fact, I think… it's the opposite."
Rika tilted her head. "The opposite?"
He nodded. "They'd want us to live—not carry their deaths like chains, but to keep walking for them, to live the days they can't."
For a long moment, the room was quiet. Rika's eyes began to glisten.
"Why are you crying?" Muichiro asked gently.
"I just…" she said, wiping her face, "I never thought of it that way. I only felt guilt. I never thought about living for them."
Muichiro stood, his usual cold tone softening. "Then that's enough. I only came to say what they couldn't."
"What do you mean by that?" Rika asked.
He smiled faintly, already turning toward the door. "It's as I said. But I hope we leave this place soon."
The door closed behind him, and Rika stood there, eyes wide.
"So he can smile like that," she whispered. "I've never seen him do that before."
Far to the south, at the demon stronghold of Gandogo, the night was anything but quiet. Bonfires burned high as the demon army reveled in victory, their laughter filling the air alongside the smell of wine and meat.
"We won, didn't we?" Runkoyo shouted, raising a cup.
"Yeah! But it's a shame only three of those brats died!" Tila yelled back, to a chorus of raucous laughter.
In the upper chambers, however, Baruka and his lieutenant Ekyno were not celebrating.
"You let them escape," Ekyno said, frowning. "You could've finished them."
Baruka leaned against the balcony railing, watching the fires below. "No. I wanted them to run. The fear in their eyes—especially that boy with the broken ribs—it's not weakness. It's the kind of pain that grows into strength."
Ekyno folded his arms. "I only hope you're right."
Baruka smiled. "I am. For now, gather everyone. I have an announcement to make."
Back at Longunard's mansion, Rena stepped onto a small stage before her gathered followers, her golden hair glinting in the torchlight.
Across the land, in the demon camp, Baruka stood before his own troops, a dark grin spreading across his face.
Both raised their hands for silence.
Rena's voice rang clear:
"After careful thought, I have made my decision. We leave Gandogo tonight."
And at that same moment, Baruka's voice thundered:
"Tonight—we strike their camp!"
For a heartbeat, both sides were silent. Then the air erupted in twin shouts of approval—one side for retreat, the other for war.
And somewhere, far from both camps, the winds carried both voices into the same night sky.