The night pressed down on them like a weight.
Clouds smothered the sky, swallowing the moon whole. No stars, no light—only a thick, suffocating darkness and the sharp bite of cold wind scraping through the trees. Elric lifted her head, feeling the air shift, heavy with moisture.
"The rain will fall soon…" she murmured beneath her breath, tightening her cloak.
But before they could move from this cursed mountainside, she needed to be certain—absolutely certain—that whatever Robert sensed wasn't stalking them.
She turned sharply to her guards.
"Search the perimeter," Elric commanded.
Her voice echoed through the darkness.
"If the Demon Cult is following us, I want them found—now!"
The guards bowed quickly and dispersed into the forest, blades drawn.
Behind her, attendants hurriedly climbed into the carriages, trembling as the wind cut through their clothes. The horses grew restless, snorting and stomping the ground as if warning them.
Then—
A foul, stomach-turning stench drifted in with the wind.
Rot.
Decay.
Old death.
Elric's nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Gods… that smell—"
Shadows slithered through the treeline.
Forms moved—slow, dragging limbs… broken silhouettes crawling into the clearing. Elric reacted instantly. Her hand reached for her bow, and she leapt cleanly onto the roof of Kael's carriage, gaining higher ground like a true Vaelthorn archer.
Below her, the guards raised their weapons.
A low, animalistic groaning began to echo… wrong, unnatural, filled with torment.
Elric's eyes widened as the shadows stepped into the torchlight.
Not humans.
Not cultists.
Ghouls.
Pale flesh stretched tight over bone.
Jaws unhinged.
Eyes sunken and hollow, yet full of hunger.
They staggered closer, drawn by something—
or someone.
"Don't let them near the carriages!" Elric shouted from above.
"Kill them before they get close!"
She pulled back her bowstring, imbuing the arrow with flame.
With a sharp exhale, she released.
FWOOM—!
The arrow pierced through the skull of the nearest ghoul, flames erupting over its body.
It screeched, a shrill, agonized sound that rattled the horses.
But that wasn't the worst part.
The fallen ghoul's corpse released a cloud of thick black miasma, spreading like smoke.
The guards recoiled in horror.
"The gas—! It's poisonous!"
Elric's heart stopped.
Her bow nearly slipped from her hands.
If that miasma reached the carriages—
Kael.
Robert.
Everyone could die.
But before anyone could react, a sudden gust of powerful wind tore through the camp—
a clean, sharp wind that swept the miasma away from them in an instant.
Elric spun around.
Standing before Kael's carriage, wand raised despite his trembling hands—
Robert.
"Robert!" she yelled, leaping down from the roof.
"You shouldn't be fighting yet!"
His face was ashen. Sweat dripped from his jawline. His left hand clutched at his chest, the poison's lingering damage burning inside him.
But still, he forced his trembling right hand to rise—
A second spell surged.
Rain burst from above in a sudden downpour, washing away the lingering traces of black gas.
"Should I just stay silent when all of you are fighting?" Robert hissed through labored breaths.
His body swayed.
He was barely standing.
Elric grabbed his shoulders tightly, forcing him to look at her.
"Don't be reckless," she snapped.
Her eyes—not angry, but filled with fear—searched his pallid face.
"You're barely healed. One wrong move and you'll collapse again—do you understand?"
Robert said nothing.
Because she was right.
But he couldn't bring himself to admit it.
Elric turned to the guards quickly.
"Keep searching—there may be more of them around us!"
The guards nodded and split off again as the first raindrops began to fall, soaking into the ground.
A hunched old man approached through the dim light, his thin frame barely visible under the rain.
His lantern flickered violently with each gust of wind.
"My Lady," he wheezed, voice trembling,
"If you… don't mind… my house is not far. You can all take shelter there. Till morning."
Elric froze.
This man…
This was the same old guardian from the orphanage ruin.
The same man Kael confronted earlier.
And she did not want Kael anywhere near him.
But—
The rain began to fall harder, quickly turning into a downpour.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Traveling now would be dangerous.
And Kael… still unconscious after his panic attack… needed shelter immediately.
Elric hesitated, jaw clenched, then finally nodded.
"Fine. Take us there," she ordered.
"But if you lead us into danger, old man—"
Her icy stare finished the sentence for her.
The old man bowed shakily and led the way ahead, holding his flickering lamp.
The guards rushed to move the carriages, covering them with tarps as the storm intensified.
Horses strained against their harnesses.
Robert stumbled back toward Kael, clutching his wand tightly.
Inside the carriage, Kael slept—
face pale, breaths shallow, tears still dried on his cheeks.
Robert sat beside him, staring at him with trembling resolve.
"Master Kael… you'll be safe this time," he whispered,
as the storm swallowed the mountain and the darkness thickened around them.
-----------------------------------------
The scent hit him first—
not the cold rain outside the carriage,
not the damp soil of the forest—
but the heavy, choking smell of burning flesh.
Smoke curled around him like a living thing.
Kael sucked in a breath—
and the world shifted.
The forest disappeared.
He was standing again in the field outside Taylor Orphanage,
the night of the massacre.
Flames devoured the wooden buildings.
Children—thin, barefoot, starving—sprinted across the burning dirt, tripping, falling, getting back up.
Their cries pierced the night.
Kael's stomach tightened in agony.
He looked down.
A steel shard—rusted, jagged—was still buried in the soft flesh of his childhood body.
Blood spilled warm down his trembling fingers.
His breaths were shallow, trembling, broken.
"...It hurts…"
His young voice was barely audible.
Screams tore the night apart.
A boy with red hair—his fellow test subject—lay collapsed in front of him, bright crimson pooling beneath his small frame. His eyes were half-open, lifeless. The fire reflected against those eyes like a cruel joke.
Kael's breath tightened.
"Rian…" he whispered the boy's name without voice.
His throat could no longer form sound.
Then—
A shadow fell across the corpse.
Kael looked up.
A man in a black hood stood there, sword dripping with the child's blood.
No remorse.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Only duty.
The hooded man raised his bloodied blade.
For Kael.
Kael stumbled back, legs buckling.
The sword sliced down—
the sharp edge grazing his shoulder with enough force to tear flesh.
He collapsed with a scream, gripping his stomach as fresh pain ripped through him.
Above him, the man snarled:
"Kill every child who escaped! Lord David ordered no survivors!"
Footsteps thudded across the burning field.
More hooded guardians appeared, weapons raised.
Arrows soared overhead, piercing small bodies fleeing through the flames.
Kael's heartbeat thudded painfully against his ribs.
He lifted a trembling, blood-covered hand toward the hooded man's boots.
"...Why… are you… doing this…?"
His voice cracked, barely more than breath.
The man kicked him so hard his small body flew across the dirt, landing near a collapsed fence. Pain burst through him—white, consuming, suffocating.
"You ungrateful vermin!" the man roared.
"We kept you alive! Fed you! And now you dare run?! Die!"
Another guardian sprinted toward Kael.
"Wait! He's from the secret experiment—Subject Zero!" he shouted.
"We can't kill him without Lord David's permission—"
"I don't care!" the hooded man yelled back.
"He's bleeding out anyway! Lord David said kill everyone who tries to escape—so kill them!"
Kael's eyes widened.
"No…"
His voice shook.
His breath hitched.
"Stop… please…"
But no one could hear him.
No one ever did.
Steel clashed.
Fire roared.
Arrows rained down like death from the heavens.
Kael could hear the children's final screams—echoes of terror that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
His vision blurred.
He looked sideways at the red-haired boy again, the one who once played marbles with him in secret, the boy who always smiled despite the pain.
He was gone.
Completely gone.
Warm tears slid down Kael's small cheeks, mixing with the dust and blood.
"...help… us…"
His plea was swallowed by chaos.
Smothered by fire.
Ignored by everyone.
His body grew cold.
Numb.
His heartbeat slowed.
"Am… I going to die… too…?" he whispered.
Then—
A sound broke through the night.
A whistling.
Sharp.
Otherworldly.
Kael forced his eyelids open.
From the sky, streaks of light fell like shooting stars—
one, then two, then dozens—
They struck the ground with explosive force.
BOOM
BOOM—BOOM—BOOM—!
The guardians hunting the children screamed as celestial fire engulfed them.
Kael's body jolted at the shockwave.
He tried to lift his head—
tried to see the figure above the flames, the silhouette calling down the stars—
But he couldn't.
His small fingers slipped from the charred ground.
His vision faded to black.
And the world finally released him into the darkness.
-----------------------------------------
The first thing he smelled was coffee.
Warm… bitter… familiar.
Kael's eyelashes trembled. Tears still clung to them as he opened his eyes.
But the ceiling above him wasn't canvas, nor the curved roof of a carriage.
It was wood—aged, cracked, the scent of damp soaked into it.
A house.
His body jolted.
The pain from the dream—
from the battlefield of fire and blood—
still tore through every muscle as if he were still lying in that burning field.
Before he could stop himself, Kael lurched forward—
vomiting violently onto the wooden floor.
The door slammed open.
"Master Kael!"
Robert rushed to him, dropping the tray he carried.
Kael raised one trembling hand, weakly signaling him to stop—
to not touch him yet.
To give him a moment.
Robert froze, lowering himself slowly.
His heart ached watching Kael choke on his own breath, trying to ground himself back into reality.
When Kael finally managed to inhale deeply, he turned his gaze around the room.
It was unfamiliar—old wooden walls, a tiny window, the cracked table in the corner.
"...Where are we?"
His voice was hoarse, raw.
Robert hesitated.
Elric had warned him: don't mention the old man.
"We're at the nearest inn," he lied gently.
"Lady Elric insisted we take shelter because of the storm."
Kael stared at him for a long moment.
He could tell Robert was hiding something.
But the exhaustion weighing down his mind was heavier than his doubts.
He turned toward the window.
Rain lashed against the glass.
The mountain—that mountain—was still visible in the distance.
The place where he once died as a child.
Robert kneeled beside him, wiping the cold sweat from Kael's forehead, then poured a cup of coffee.
Kael didn't take it.
He kept staring at the mountain, unmoving.
Silent.
"…Should I call Lady Elric?" Robert asked carefully.
Kael didn't respond.
Robert bit his lip.
"Or should we prepare to return to Delcra? If you're too exhausted, we can postpone the investigation."
Still silence.
Then Kael finally turned his head—
slowly, as if it weighed too much.
His red eyes—now dull and fogged with pain—studied Robert.
"What… happened last night… after I lost consciousness?"
Robert stiffened.
Kael's tone wasn't angry—just tired. Tired in a way that scared him.
He inhaled before answering.
"Last night… after Lady Elric brought you down the mountain… we were surrounded."
He clenched his wand tightly.
"At first, we thought it was the Demon Cult. But no…"
He swallowed hard.
"It was ghouls—undead creatures. They… they were after us."
Kael's brows knit slowly.
"...Why?"
Robert shook his head. "I don't know. But they retreated after we fought them off."
Before Kael could ask more, loud shouting erupted outside.
Both Kael and Robert hurried out.
The sky was heavy with storm clouds. Rain still fell in sheets.
Elric and the guards were trying to hold back a crowd of frantic villagers.
"It's Hero Kael!"
"Lord Delcra has come to save us!"
"Please, help us!"
"We're doomed without him—!"
Elric turned—and her eyes widened in shock.
"Kael… you shouldn't be out here."
She immediately went to his side, her hand hovering near him, wanting to support him but afraid he'd refuse.
"Sorry," she murmured, flustered.
"They saw our carriage crest. And…"
She lowered her voice.
"This village… is in danger."
Kael blinked slowly.
His head still throbbed from the nightmare—
but the sight of villagers' terrified faces pulled him back to the present.
Before he could ask more, a small figure broke through the guards.
A child—soaked to the bone, trembling—ran straight to Kael and grabbed his hand with both of his tiny fists.
"Lord Kael…!"
Tears spilled down the boy's cheeks.
"Please… please help us! My mother—she… she disappeared two days ago!"
He sobbed.
"Everyone said you're the strongest… that you can protect people… so please save my mother!"
The boy's small hands were ice-cold around Kael's.
Kael swallowed—his throat tightening painfully.
Elric looked at him, worried.
She knew Kael's condition.
His nightmare.
His trauma.
He was barely standing.
But Kael looked down at the trembling boy—
and he saw himself.
He saw the children of Taylor Orphanage.
Reaching their hands out…
begging…
crying…
pleading…
And no one ever came.
Kael inhaled shakily.
He knelt slowly—ignoring the dizziness crashing over him—and placed a gentle hand on the boy's head.
"...I'll help you," he whispered softly.
The boy gasped, hope lighting his eyes.
Kael forced a faint smile.
"Tell me… everything that happened."