Working solo was safer—for everyone but himself. Nogare took only the simplest jobs: mapping unclaimed territories, scouting for safe trade routes, clearing small nests of weak beasts that posed no real threat. He avoided people whenever possible, taking contracts in remote areas where he could move like a ghost through forests and mountains.
The auras he saw now were muted—flickering grays of exhaustion on caravan drivers, pale oranges of minor scrapes and bruises on farmers dealing with wild boars. Nothing that cut deep. Nothing that left him waking in cold sweats, haunted by faces he'd grown to care about. But the isolation settled into his bones like frost, and some nights he found himself staring at his hands, wondering if he'd fade away entirely if no one ever looked at him again.
He'd taken to carrying a small scrying stone he'd found in a forgotten corner of the Black Spires fortress—its surface cloudy and cool to the touch. He'd never used it before, knowing such tools could amplify or warp his sight, but curiosity and loneliness pushed him one afternoon as he rested in a cave overlooking a valley.
Holding the stone in his palm, he focused on the land below. For a moment, nothing happened. Then his vision exploded outward, beyond individual people to the place itself—and all its possible futures.
Floods washing away villages. Wildfires turning forests to ash. Armies clashing across the fields. But one image rose above all others, sharp and absolute: himself, chained to a metal table in a windowless laboratory, his arms strapped down as hooded figures leaned over him with glowing instruments. Around this vision wrapped an aura of deep, final black—the same color he'd seen around Taro as a child, the color that meant no escape, no reprieve, no end but darkness.
The probability was 100%. It was a fixed point in time—something that would happen, no matter what he did.
Nogare dropped the stone as if it burned him. His breath came in ragged gasps as the image seared itself into his mind. His power had never shown him his own future before—not with such terrifying clarity. He'd spent years running from the pain of others' fates, but now he was staring at his own inescapable ruin.
Panic drove him back to the city, his feet carrying him through streets he'd avoided for months. The guild hall stood tall against the sky, a familiar shape in a world that suddenly felt like it was closing in. He burst through the doors, ignoring the stares of mercenaries who'd once cheered his name.
At the contract desk, he leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. "I need a bodyguard assignment. Long-term. Hidden. I don't care about the pay—I just need to be placed somewhere secure, with protection that won't ask questions. Something that will keep me off the grid."
The clerk raised an eyebrow. "Hidden bodyguard work? That's not your usual style, Mirai. You've been avoiding parties like the plague."
Nogare's eyes darted around the hall, half-expecting to see hooded figures already closing in. "I've changed my mind. I can't work alone anymore. Not now."
He didn't tell the clerk about the vision. He didn't explain why his hands were shaking, why he kept looking over his shoulder. All he knew was that if his fate was fixed, he couldn't face it alone—not when there might still be a way to twist the path, even just a little.