Night descended quietly.
The hill was swallowed by darkness, the air heavy and still, as if even the wind dared not move. No cries. No echoes of battle. Only the faint smell of blood lingering in the cold.
Kael stood frozen.
His eyes trembled as they stared at John's body lying on the broken ground.
Breathless.
Lifeless.
For a moment, Kael couldn't understand what he was seeing. His mind refused to accept it, clinging desperately to the hope that John might still move—that his chest would rise, even once.
Then his knees gave out.
Kael fell to the ground, landing hard on his knees. The pain didn't register. Nothing did.
He had failed.
Again.
Just like before.
Just like that night—when he was taken away and John was left behind. When he survived, and John didn't. When the world chose him and abandoned the rest.
"I…" Kael whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "…I failed…"
Beside the corpse, Varyn stood calmly.
John's heart was still in his hand.
Without haste, Varyn raised it. His fingers tightened, twisting slowly. Blood poured freely, thick and dark, spilling down his wrist.
Varyn opened his mouth and drank.
Greedily.
The sound was obscene in the silence—each swallow deliberate, indulgent. He drained it until no more blood dripped, until the heart was nothing but a dull, lifeless organ.
Then he bit into it.
Ravishly.
Like a starving beast finally fed.
Kael did not look away.
He couldn't.
When Varyn finished, he wiped his mouth casually and turned toward Kael. Golden eyes met Kael's hollow gaze.
"Take this as his punishment," Varyn said calmly, "for stealing my belongings and using them to harm the villagers."
He smiled—wide and cruel.
"You should thank me later."
Varyn stepped past Kael's kneeling form. As he took a few steps away, he stopped and glanced back.
"Today was… fun," he said lightly. "Seeing how naïve you still are."
His smile faded, replaced by something sharp.
"I hope we meet again soon." His eyes narrowed. "…But next time, my fangs will be buried in your neck."
A promise.
A threat.
The shadows swallowed him whole, and Varyn vanished as if he had never been there.
Silence returned.
"Kael—"
Elric was already running.
Elric dropped to her knees beside Kael, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Kael," she said urgently, her voice trembling. "Kael, are you alright?"
Kael slowly lifted his head.
His eyes were empty.
He didn't answer.
With Elric's support, he forced himself to stand, his body swaying dangerously. Step by step, he walked toward John's body, every movement heavy, as if the air itself resisted him.
Elric knelt beside John and gently took his wrist.
She held it for a few seconds.
Too long.
Her lips trembled as she bit them hard, her eyes lowering.
There was no pulse.
John was dead.
Elric looked up at Kael, but the words wouldn't come. She couldn't bring herself to say it.
Kael already knew.
Tears slipped silently down his face.
"I failed…" Kael whispered, his voice breaking completely. "…Again…"
His strength finally gave out.
Kael collapsed forward.
Elric reacted instantly, catching him before his body could hit the ground. She pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly as he lost consciousness.
The hill remained silent.
And John's body lay still beneath the stars, a tragedy finally laid to rest—unanswered, unforgiven, and far too late.
-----------------------------------------
Dawn crept slowly over the ruined village.
Robert arrived with a small contingent of Delcra's army just as the mist began to lift. Horses slowed at the village entrance, hooves crunching softly against broken stone and scattered debris.
He frowned.
Instead of chaos, he saw order.
Count Jean's guards were already at work—lifting fallen beams, clearing shattered roofs, helping villagers rebuild what little remained of their homes. Some soldiers carried injured civilians to temporary shelters. Others reinforced damaged walls with practiced efficiency.
Robert's chest tightened.
Something had already ended here.
He dismounted quickly, scanning the area.
"Elric," he called.
He spotted her near the command tent and approached at once. "I brought the documents and additional reinforcements from Delcra Castle," he said, handing her a sealed bundle. "Along with medical supplies."
Elric accepted the documents and scanned them briefly. Her shoulders slumped.
"…We won't be able to use this anymore," she said quietly.
Robert blinked. "What do you mean?"
She looked up at him, exhaustion evident in her eyes. "The ghouls have already been defeated. And the villagers who went missing…" She paused, then shook her head. "…They're all dead."
Robert froze.
His gaze drifted instinctively past her, searching the camp.
"Where is Master Kael?" he asked, voice tense. "He must be—" He stopped himself, swallowing hard. He knew Kael too well. Kael never handled failure easily. "He must be blaming himself."
Elric took a step back and pulled aside the tent flap.
Robert followed her gaze.
Inside, Kael lay on his side atop a simple cot, completely unconscious. His back was exposed, wrapped in bandages already darkened with blood. A servant knelt beside him, carefully applying medicine with trembling hands.
Robert's eyes widened.
He rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside the cot.
The one tending Kael straightened—it was Aria.
Robert barely acknowledged her as he examined Kael's injuries with a healer's trained eye. The wounds were deep. Too deep for someone who had already been poisoned not long ago.
"What happened?" Robert asked, his voice low.
Elric stepped into the tent, her expression heavy. "The summoner of the ghouls attacked us directly. Kael shielded me from the attack."
Guilt colored every word.
Aria quietly stepped back and exited the tent, closing the flap behind her and leaving only the two of them inside.
Robert's hands trembled as he hovered over Kael, unable to bring himself to touch him.
"How long has he been unconscious?" he asked.
"Only a few hours," Elric replied. "I cast healing spells immediately, but the injuries were deep."
Robert exhaled slowly.
He wanted to heal Kael himself.
But he hesitated.
Even using mana for others now strained his own body dangerously. His hands clenched at his sides as he made the decision he hated.
"Healer!" Robert called sharply.
The healer he brought from Delcra Castle hurried inside. Robert gave concise instructions, and the healer immediately began casting controlled healing magic over Kael's wounds.
Slowly, visibly, the injuries began to close.
Kael's body relaxed. The sweat on his brow faded as the pain eased.
"The poison isn't as strong as the one he suffered in the palace," the healer said carefully. "Perhaps his body has built some resistance. I can't be certain without further examination. But he needs proper rest—immediate and uninterrupted."
Elric's gaze lingered on Kael.
He had only just recovered from poisoning at the palace.
And now this.
"Prepare the carriage," Elric ordered decisively. "We'll move this afternoon. There's no need to wait for him to wake up."
The healer nodded and exited the tent.
Elric turned back to Robert.
Up close, she noticed it clearly now—his complexion was unnaturally pale. More than Kael's.
"Are you alright?" she asked. "You look worse than yesterday."
Robert stiffened.
Then he smiled awkwardly, waving it off. "I'm fine. Just tired," he said lightly. "Riding from here to the castle and back again all in one day… it's rough."
He smirked, trying to sound convincing.
Elric didn't respond immediately.
Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer—uncertain, uneasy—before drifting back to Kael.
Outside the tent, the village continued its quiet reconstruction.
Inside, three people stood bound by exhaustion, grief, and unspoken fear—each hiding something the others could not yet see
-----------------------------------------
Elric stepped out of the tent where Kael rested.
The night air was cool against her skin. She paused, letting her eyes travel across the village. Soldiers and villagers moved quietly under lantern light, repairing what had been destroyed—lifting fallen beams, reinforcing walls, tending to the wounded. It was orderly, disciplined… and heavy with grief.
Her gaze shifted.
Not far from Kael's tent stood another one.
This tent was different.
It was guarded.
Two soldiers stood firmly at its entrance. When they noticed Elric approaching, they straightened immediately and bowed, stepping aside to let her pass.
Inside, the air was colder.
Neatly arranged on the ground were bones—small, fragile remains gathered from the ruined basement beneath the orphanage. Children's bones. Carefully collected, wrapped, and laid out in silence, just as Elric had ordered.
Her jaw tightened.
Then her eyes moved to the far end of the tent.
A body lay there, covered by a white cloth. Dark stains seeped through it—blood that had not yet dried.
Slowly, Elric knelt and lifted the cloth.
John.
His eyes were half-closed, lashes clumped together by blood. His face was pale, almost peaceful, if not for the brutal hole torn through his chest—where his heart had been ripped out.
Elric felt a tight ache in her chest.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered quietly. "Kael… he truly wanted to save you."
She knew it.
Even after everything John had done—hurting Kael, killing villagers, unleashing ghouls—Kael had still reached out to him. Still tried to stop it. Still begged.
That was who Kael was.
As Elric studied John more closely, something caught her attention.
Red hair.
Red eyes.
Her breath stilled.
Those features—
Her mind flashed back to the secret files she and Kael had uncovered in the hidden basement beneath the orphanage ruins. Documents detailing illegal experiments. Three children selected.
Her gaze sharpened as she searched John's face.
The resemblance was undeniable.
"…Subject 02," she murmured.
Her fingers brushed against John's cold skin.
The world shattered.
A flood of memories burst into her mind—violent, chaotic, overwhelming.
She saw children screaming as blood was drawn from their bodies. Needles. Chains. Spells carving into flesh. John losing control, his power erupting wildly. Guardians hunting him down. Blades piercing skin.
Pain.
Fear.
Then—another memory.
Elric felt as if she were inside John's younger body now, staggering, bleeding. In front of him stood a child just as badly injured, clutching his stomach where blood poured freely.
A small hand reached out.
"Let's get away… from here…" the child whispered, voice trembling as he endured the pain.
John reached back—
Too slow.
A blade pierced him from behind.
As Elric—still trapped within the memory—lifted her head, she finally saw the child clearly.
Black hair.
Red eyes.
"Younger… Kael…" Elric breathed. "Kael?"
She gasped sharply and stumbled back as the vision shattered.
Reality rushed in.
Elric was kneeling in the tent again, her breath uneven, her heart pounding.
"So that's what you saw…" she murmured, understanding dawning. "That was the last thing Kael saw… before he lost his childhood memories."
She lowered her head, staring at John's still face.
"…You were a victim too," she said softly. "Just like Kael said."
Elric bowed her head in a quiet prayer.
When she finished, she gently covered John's body again and stood.
Outside the tent, the village head was waiting.
She had expected this.
He bowed deeply as she approached.
"My lady," he said carefully, "what of the villagers taken by the ghouls?"
Elric inhaled slowly.
"I'm sorry," she replied, her voice firm despite the guilt weighing on her chest. "The ghouls killed them. We will help recover their remains so they may rest in peace."
The village head's expression tightened.
His eyes drifted past her, toward the guarded tent.
"I saw the guards carrying a body inside," he said cautiously. "Shouldn't they only be bringing skeletons? If I may ask… why is there a body?"
Elric's gaze snapped back to him—sharp, unwavering.
She did not answer his question.
"I have ordered the search for all remaining villagers who disappeared," she said coldly. "And remember what you promised the Archduke."
The village head stiffened.
Understanding flashed across his face.
He bowed deeply, lower than before.
"…I understand."
Elric turned away without another word.
Behind her, the guarded tent remained silent—holding bones, secrets, and a tragedy that would never be spoken of aloud.