The ghouls broke through the village gate like a tide of rot and bone.
Their claws slammed against wooden doors and shuttered windows, scraping, tearing—aimed not at the guards standing in formation, but at the houses behind them. At sleeping rooms. At places where breathing hearts hid.
"Intercept them—now!" Elric shouted.
Guards surged forward, steel flashing under torchlight. Swords cleaved through decayed limbs, halberds pierced torsos that should never have moved again. Still, the ghouls did not turn to fight. They lunged past blades, dragging their broken bodies toward the villagers' homes as if pulled by instinct.
Elric cursed under her breath and leapt onto a wagon, drawing her bow in one smooth motion. Mana flared along the string.
"Burn."
Arrows streaked through the night, igniting midair. Where they struck, ghouls shrieked—raw, distorted cries—and collapsed in burning heaps. Black smoke spiraled upward, carrying a stench so thick it coated the throat.
Kael moved without hesitation.
His sword pierced through a ghoul's chest, striking something hard—the core. The creature froze, eyes flaring red for a heartbeat before shattering into ash at his feet. Another lunged. He stepped forward, blade flashing again. One by one, they fell.
Too clean. Too deliberate.
Elric noticed it then—the pattern.
"They aren't attacking us," she said sharply. "They're prioritizing the houses."
Her grip tightened on her bow. "That's not how ghouls behave."
As if hearing her, the remaining creatures let out a low, distorted cry and abruptly turned. One by one, they retreated—not in chaos, but in order—melting back into the forest's darkness.
"Don't let them escape!" Elric commanded. "Track them. Find their nest—there has to be a source behind the disappearances!"
The guards nodded and surged forward.
"Stop."
The single word cut through the noise.
Kael raised his sword—not toward the forest, but across their path.
The guards halted instantly, startled. Elric turned, alarm flooding her face.
"Kael? What's wrong?"
He stood rigid, staring into the dark between the trees. His brows were drawn tight, pupils unfocused, breath shallow.
"Someone…" His voice was barely more than a breath. "I saw it."
Elric stepped closer. "Saw what?"
Kael swallowed. The image burned behind his eyes—too real, too wrong.
"A man," he said slowly. "Not a ghoul. A grown man."
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. "He was standing there. Watching."
Elric's eyes widened. "You're saying someone is controlling them?"
Kael didn't answer.
He turned his gaze back to the forest. Whatever he had seen was gone now, swallowed by shadow as if it had never existed.
Elric moved beside him, her voice softer, urgent. "Kael, look at me. What do you mean someone is controlling them?"
Still, he stayed silent.
Then—the orphanage. The basement. The black files.
Without another word, Kael turned and strode toward the envoy tent. Elric and Count Jean exchanged a glance before following.
Inside, torchlight flickered against canvas walls. Kael went straight to the chest, pulled out the black file, and spread its contents across the table. Papers rustled violently under his shaking hands.
He stopped at one photograph.
A boy.
Red hair. Red eyes. A thin face twisted in a smile far too bright for the misery written into his bones.
Elric leaned over his shoulder. "Kael… what is this?"
Kael lifted the page, staring as though it might bleed.
"I think," he said slowly, "the one controlling them… is him."
Elric frowned. "But these children—didn't they die? You said you watched him—"
"I did." Kael's voice cracked. "I remember it. I saw him die in front of me."
Pain exploded through his skull.
Kael gasped, staggering back, one hand flying to his head. The tent spun violently. Elric rushed to him, catching his shoulders.
"Kael. Stop—don't force it," she pleaded. "Please. You'll hurt yourself."
He shook his head weakly. "No… it was my—"
He froze.
Someone stood just outside the tent.
Small. Slender.
Golden eyes gleamed softly in the dark.
Varyn.
Elric reacted instantly, stepping in front of Kael, mana flaring around her. Count Jean drew his sword in one sharp motion.
"Who are you?!" Elric demanded.
The boy smiled brightly, utterly unconcerned.
"Hi, Kael!"
The cheer in his voice was grotesquely out of place.
Count Jean barked, "Identify yourself!" but Varyn only tilted his head, amused.
"What a warm greeting," he said lightly. "You're all so tense."
Kael raised his hand weakly. "Stop."
Both Elric and Count Jean hesitated, then lowered their weapons—reluctantly.
Kael's head throbbed, each heartbeat a hammer. "Why… are you here?"
Varyn clasped his hands behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels. "Someone stole my belongings," he said with exaggerated disappointment. "I sent my men, but they were terribly inefficient."
His golden eyes flicked toward the forest.
"So," he continued cheerfully, "I came myself."
Kael blinked, confusion breaking through the pain.
Varyn laughed softly, delighted. "Oh? That reaction…"
His smile widened. "It seems our problems collided."
He stepped closer, ignoring the murderous tension surrounding him.
"Small world," Varyn said sweetly. "Don't you think, Kael?"
The wind rose, carrying with it the lingering stench of ash and blood.
And somewhere deep in the forest, something wept.
-----------------------------------------
Morning arrived without mercy.
The sun rose pale and distant behind torn clouds, its light spilling over broken fences and scorched earth. Smoke still lingered in the air, clinging to the village like a bruise that refused to fade. The attack was over, yet its echo remained—scratched doors, shattered windows, blood scrubbed hastily from the ground.
Under Count Jean's command, guards and villagers worked side by side. Roofs were patched with trembling hands, broken carts righted, lanterns relit. No one spoke loudly. Every creak of wood made shoulders tense. Every shadow drew wary glances.
Fear had settled deep.
Inside the Delcra envoy tent, the air was heavier still.
Kael sat beside Elric, their shoulders almost touching. Two guards stood outside, weapons drawn, eyes sharp. Between Kael and Elric, a low table had been set—bread, soup, roasted meat hastily prepared by the villagers.
Varyn sat opposite them.
He ate with visible delight.
"This is so good!" Varyn said cheerfully, biting into bread as crumbs fell onto the table. "I never thought human food could taste like this. You're surprisingly talented for such fragile creatures."
Elric's fingers twitched near her bowstring, every instinct screaming danger. She forced herself to remain still, her body angled subtly toward Kael—as if her presence alone could shield him.
Kael said nothing. His gaze stayed on Varyn's hands, on the ease with which he ate, laughed, existed—after everything that had happened.
Black hair.
Golden eyes.
The same description Kael had whispered days ago.
The same presence that haunted his dreams.
Varyn noticed their silence and tilted his head. "Hm? You're not eating. Is it rude here to watch a guest enjoy himself?"
Kael finally spoke.
"What do you mean," he asked quietly, "by your belongings being stolen?"
Varyn paused mid-bite. Slowly, deliberately, he set the food down. He rested his chin on his palm, eyes drifting upward as if recalling something mildly inconvenient.
"A spell scroll," he said. "One of my research pieces."
Elric's eyes narrowed. Kael stiffened beside her.
"What kind of research?" Elric asked, her voice controlled but sharp.
Varyn waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, something rather advanced. Not something humans should be touching."
He glanced toward the tent entrance, where the sound of hammers and murmured voices drifted in. "That scroll is… troublesome. In the wrong hands, it causes complications."
Kael's breath caught.
"…Do you mean," he said slowly, his voice cracking despite his effort to steady it, "that what happened to this village… is because of you?"
Elric turned sharply toward Kael, but he didn't look away from Varyn.
For a heartbeat, the tent was silent.
Then—
Varyn slammed his hand on the table.
The sound cracked like thunder.
"Didn't I just say it was stolen?" Varyn snapped, golden eyes flashing dangerously. "Did you even listen?"
Kael flinched. Elric's hand flew instinctively toward her bow.
Varyn leaned forward, his childish expression gone—stripped away to reveal something cold, ancient, and sharp.
"You're just like the cultists," he continued, voice dripping with resentment. "Always looking down on me because I look young. Always assuming I'm careless."
Elric froze.
Her body locked in place.
She tried to move—tried to draw breath deeper—but her limbs refused to obey.
"Elric!" Kael stood abruptly, chair scraping back. Steel rang as he drew his sword, the blade leveled straight at Varyn's throat. "Let her go."
Varyn's eyes glowed brighter.
"Or what?" he asked calmly.
Kael's grip tightened, knuckles white. His voice shook, but it did not waver.
"Or I will not help you. Not now. Not ever."
For a long moment, they stared at each other—golden eyes against blood-red.
Then Varyn sighed.
"Humans are so dramatic."
He lowered his hand.
Elric collapsed forward as the invisible pressure vanished. Kael caught her instantly, pulling her against his chest before she could hit the ground.
"Are you alright?" he whispered urgently.
Elric trembled, breath uneven, but she nodded. "I… I'm fine." Her gaze lifted—sharp, furious—locking onto Varyn. "What was that?"
Varyn ignored her.
He leaned back in his seat, expression dull now, irritated rather than angry. "That bastard," he muttered. "Making a mess just to satisfy his petty revenge."
Kael stiffened.
"…Revenge?" he echoed.
Varyn glanced at him. "You saw him too, didn't you? The one hiding in the forest."
Kael's throat tightened. His mind flashed back—red hair, red eyes, a silhouette that should not exist.
"He's the one who stole my scroll," Varyn continued flatly. "He used it to create ghouls. From corpses. From his friends."
The words hit Kael like a blade.
"…Friends?" Kael whispered.
"Yes." Varyn's voice held no emotion. "The ones buried up there."
Kael's hands began to shake.
"He's still alive?" Kael asked, barely audible.
Varyn looked genuinely surprised. "What? You didn't know?"
Kael's knees felt weak.
"I thought… they all died," he said, the words tearing out of him. "I saw them die. I saw him—"
Varyn scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Do you really think you were the only survivor?"
Kael stared at him, eyes wide, breath shallow.
"How naïve you are," Varyn said softly, almost mockingly. "Dear Kael."
The truth spread through Kael's chest like poison.
The children.
The screaming.
The bodies he thought he had failed.
Some of them had lived.
And one of them had become something monstrous.
Kael clenched his fists until his palms bled, his vision blurring as the weight of it crushed down on him.
Elric felt his body go rigid beneath her hand.
"Kael…" she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.
He didn't answer.
Somewhere beyond the tent, a child laughed nervously—too loud, too brittle.
And for the first time since the ghouls retreated, Kael felt something worse than fear settle in his heart.
Hope twisted into horror.
Because the past he believed was buried…
had claws now.