Cecilus led the horse beyond the city walls, where the roads dwindled into uneven earth and the last glow of civilization dimmed behind him. Xena stood quietly at his side, ears flicking at the wind. Before he left the continent, there was one task he needed to finish.
He placed a hand on the horse's neck.
"Stay still."
In the next instant, Cecilus drew his blade and plunged it into Xena's side.
The horse screamed, legs buckling as blood streamed down its hide. It hit the ground hard, wheezing, trembling.
Your only chance of living is if you come under me, Cecilus thought, his voice flat in his own mind. Eternal slavery or death—those are your two options.
It took only a moment. Xena's convulsions slowed as Cecilus drew out its soul. A pale glow rose from the body, then vanished into the depths of Cecilus's inner world. The corpse flickered away, leaving only empty grass and air.
A familiar voice chuckled by his ear.
It would be a pain to put on the saddle every time you summon the horse, wouldn't it?
Cecilus sighed inwardly.
What are you getting at?
The white devil's tone turned sly, almost teacher-like.
Soul fracturing. Break off a sliver of your soul and bind it to an object. In this case—the saddle. No fiddling. No work. Efficient, yes?
Cecilus held the saddle and closed his eyes. The sensation came easily—far too easily. A thin thread of himself tore away and settled into the leather with a faint glow. He tested it at once, shifting it into the soul world and back.
It worked.
He summoned Xena again. The horse materialized fully healed, soul-bound, the saddle already fastened.
"Convenient," Cecilus murmured.
He mounted and guided the horse down the long road.
***
An hour later, the border appeared on the horizon in sweeping, uneven lines—like the land had been split open by ancient hands. A massive crevice carved the world apart, and on the far side, the green hills of the Ascended Continent gave way to endless dunes of ochre and gold.
A desert. Stark. Harsh. Unwelcoming.
A colossal bridge spanned the crack between continents, its stone arches buzzing with activity. Hundreds of carriages lined the entry, traders and travelers inching their way across.
The white devil floated beside Cecilus, lying on its back as though drifting lazily through an invisible sea.
Then it asked, "How do you feel when killing people?"
Cecilus tensed. He didn't look at it.
"…Nothing. I just need my memories back. The ones who died were necessary."
A soft laugh. Hahaha… Is that really how you feel?
"It doesn't matter how I feel. My memories won't return otherwise."
He paused. "Also… you're a summon, aren't you? I hear the horse's thoughts whenever it wanders, but you're silent unless you choose not to be."
Let's just say I made a contract with your previous self. Not one that requires servitude. The devil rolled lazily in the air. More… cooperative than subordinate.
"Whatever you say."
Xena galloped across the bridge. Despite the vast desert ahead, roads remained visible—packed, well-used paths cutting through dunes, guiding travelers deeper.
"So," Cecilus asked, "what are we looking for?"
The devil's grin widened.
"A flyer. A giant crow would make mobility trivial. And I know where to find a dust elemental too."
"Are they strong?"
"Yes. But more importantly—they fill the gaps you have. Range. Flight. You can't solve everything with a sword."
He stretched in midair. "Our first major city is a few days' ride from here."
They traveled until the sun dipped below the dunes. Cecilus built a fire, the night's chill cutting in sharply.
"Can you keep watch?" he asked.
"Yes. Rest."
He unrolled a rug and pulled a blanket around himself. Desert nights bit like winter. The sky glittered with cold, distant stars.
A giant crow… why does that sound familiar…?
His eyes drifted shut.
Sleep took him.
***
Trey sat rigid in the chair, watching the hands of the wall-clock crawl forward. His stomach churned. Every tick echoed like a countdown to judgment.
This isn't good. If the boss hadn't prioritized capturing that elven woman, I'd be finished.
There were still two living witnesses. How had they escaped? And how had they moved so far, so fast?
The door swung open. Valter stood there, smiling too calmly.
"It's time, Trey. Explain what happened."
Trey entered the room and began recounting everything, careful with every word.
"I distributed the poison months in advance—handshakes, food, anything I could slip it into. Cecilus avoided the physical contact, so I poisoned the wine instead."
"I watched him drink it, but somehow he nullified it."
"I then killed his father, siblings, and all other potential witnesses… except Cecilus and my half-sister. He awakened some kind of latent power and escaped."
He studied Valter's face. The man's expression didn't change—not even slightly.
"It's fine," Valter said. "I expected failure. If killing that boy were truly that easy, that would surprise me. The important part is done. We already captured the most valuable piece. There isn't much the boy can do now."
Relief washed through Trey so suddenly that he almost trembled.
Valter tilted his head. "One more question, Trey."
"Of course—anything."
"Did you see any creature with white scales and purple horns during the incident?"
"…No."
"I see. That's all. You're dismissed."
Trey left and navigated the twisting hallways, not daring to question Valter's motives aloud.
Capturing Yeldove Crow… was that really so important?
The thought lingered as he made his way out of the manor and toward the capital.
***
His apartment greeted him with its familiar plainness. Despite coming into a significant inheritance after his parents' deaths, Trey had kept this modest home. It felt more real than the luxurious borderland houses. More… his.
A letter stuck out of the mailbox. The seal belonged to a northern noble family.
He opened it.
Greetings, Sir Trey, I extend my deepest condolences for the loss of your late mother and father…
He scanned until the sender's name caught his eye.
William Curteis.
They're quite rich. William is the man who created the main water filtration system in the capital using alchemical magic. They are probably reaching out to me because of my now-inherited power and my preexisting magic type.
He continued reading.
My daughter, Oriel, is of age and unmarried. Our family favors unions with those who possess alchemical magic… She has admired your honor as a knight… willing to discuss marriage…
Trey snorted softly.
Admired my honor? Even I don't admire that.
Still… he was getting older. And a marriage alliance with the Curteis family was no small matter.
What did he have to lose by hearing them out?
He penned a short letter of acceptance and began packing.
By morning, Trey set out for the northern roads—far from the capital, and even farther from Valter.
A faint smile crept across his face as the city disappeared behind him.