The air in the cottage was heavy, smelling of boiled herbs and the metallic tang of Subaru's illness. Rem sat by the bed, her fingers tracing the hollows of her husband's cheeks. Every breath he took was a rasping battle, a sound that tore at her more than any physical wound could.
"Mom, he needs the Red Grade extract from the capital."
Rem didn't need to look up to know Rigel was there. He moved without a sound, a habit ingrained by his training with Halibel. At sixteen, he was already taller than his father, his eyes sharp and calculating. "The local apothecary won't even look at us. They want ten thousand holy coins for a single vial. The war has made the ingredients 'rare,' apparently."
"We will find the money, Rigel," Rem said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart.
"I could have that money by morning," Rigel said, his hand resting casually on the hilt of the blade at his hip. His voice was terrifyingly flat. "There's a merchant caravan three miles out. They're carrying luxury silks and spices. I could—"
"No!" Rem turned, her blue eyes flashing with a rare, fierce anger. "We are not thieves, and you are not a murderer, Rigel. Your father worked himself to the bone to give us a life away from blood. I will not let you throw that away for a bag of coins."
"Then we let him die?" Rigel snapped, his composure breaking for a second. "Because that's the alternative, Mom. Honesty doesn't pay for medicine in a world at war."
From the corner of the room, seven-year-old Spica whimpered, clutching her father's hand. "Mama... Papa's hand is so cold."
The door creaked open, and Tia stepped in. She looked as ethereal as always, her long hair shimmering, her expression one of mild, detached curiosity. She looked at Subaru's fading form like one might look at a wilting flower.
"He looks like he's breaking," Tia said simply. "Humans are so fragile. Why don't we just kill the people who have the medicine? It would be much faster."
Rem sighed, closing her eyes. This was Tia—the Great Spirit who understood power but lacked the concept of "morality." To her, a life was just a flame that could be snuffed out if it was in the way.
"We are going to Gield, Tia. We are going to find work," Rem said, standing up. She looked at Rigel. "Stay here. Protect your sister. Protect your father. Do not leave this house with that sword."
Rigel didn't answer. He just watched them go, his eyes dark with a pragmatism that scared Rem more than any monster.
Rigel didn't flinch. He stepped closer, his shadow looming over his mother.
"Then you listen to me, Mom," he said, his voice terrifyingly cold and pragmatic. "If you don't come back with that money today, I'm going out to get it myself. I'm not going to sit here and watch my father die just so we can feel 'innocent.' I won't hesitate to take a life to save his. If you can't provide for this family, I will—no matter who I have to kill to do it."
Rem felt as if she had been struck. She looked at her son—her beautiful, talented boy—and saw a stranger. She saw the "Blue Ogre" she had tried so hard to keep him from becoming. She wanted to protest, to scream, to forbid him again, but the words died in her throat. She knew he wasn't boasting. He had the skill, and now, he had the will.
She felt a sickening wave of guilt. She had failed to protect their peace. She turned away, unable to look at him, her heart breaking at the realization that her son was willing to butcher innocent people just to buy a few more breaths for his father.
"Stay here," she whispered, her voice brittle. "Protect your sister. Protect your father. Just... wait for me."
Rigel didn't answer. He just watched them go, his eyes dark with a pragmatism that scared Rem more than any monster they had ever faced.
The Hollow Town
The road to Gield was a path through a dying world. Rem walked with a frantic pace, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Beside her, Tia drifted along with a serene, terrifying lack of urgency. To the Great Spirit, the war was just a change in the weather; to Rem, it was the end of everything.
"I can smell the rot from here," Tia remarked as the gates of Gield came into view. "It's not just the people, Rem. The mana in the air is sour. Like milk left in the sun."
Gield had once been a town of vibrant trade, but now it was a skeleton. The streets were eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the occasional sound of a shutter slamming shut. Groups of men sat on street corners with hollow eyes, their hands empty, their spirits broken by the stalemate of the War in Lagunia.
Rem went from shop to shop, her desperation growing with every closed door.
"Work? You're joking," a butcher scoffed, gesturing to his empty hooks. "I haven't seen a side of beef in a month. The army takes the food, the army takes the gold, and the army takes the men. Go home, girl."
"I have a family!" Rem pleaded at the local infirmary, her voice cracking. "I can clean, I can heal—I have magic—"
"So do a hundred other refugees," the clerk sighed without looking up. "We don't have enough medicine for the soldiers, let alone a dying husband in the woods. Move along."
By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Rem felt the weight of Rigel's ultimatum pressing down on her neck. She could almost see him now, sharpening his blade, preparing to step into the darkness she had spent sixteen years trying to keep him away from.
She collapsed onto a splintered wooden bench in the town square. In the center sat a fountain; once a symbol of the town's wealth, it was now filled with stagnant, green water and dead leaves.
"It's a pity," Tia said, poking the water with a finger. "It would be so much easier to just take what you need. Why do humans insist on asking for permission to survive?"
"Because if we don't, we lose who we are, Tia," Rem whispered, burying her face in her hands.
"Is who you are worth more than Subaru's life?" Tia asked. There was no malice in her voice, only a genuine, detached curiosity.
Rem didn't answer. She couldn't.
"The Spirit girl has a point, though her tongue is sharp," a raspy voice drifted toward them.
An elderly man named Samuel hobbled out from the shadow of a boarded-up tavern. He was leaning heavily on a cane, his clothes tattered but his eyes surprisingly bright. He had watched Rem's fruitless journey through the town with a look of pity.
"There is no honest coin left in Gield, daughter of the Oni," Samuel said softly. "The war has turned hearts to stone. But there is a legend... one the soldiers are too cowardly to chase."
Rem looked up, a final spark of hope igniting. "A legend?"
"Deep within the Uncharted Forest," Samuel pointed toward the jagged, dark treeline to the north, "lies an ancient ruin. They say it houses a Life-Spring Stone. It's a relic of the age of miracles. It could cure a thousand illnesses, or be sold for enough gold to buy a palace in the capital."
Rem's breath caught. "A Life-Spring Stone... why hasn't anyone taken it?"
Samuel's expression darkened. "Because it isn't 'lost.' A corrupt noble from the borderlands, Lord Arvin, has moved his private guard into the ruins. He's hoarding the stone, waiting for the war to drive the prices higher so he can sell it to the highest bidder while the poor rot in the streets."
Tia let out a low, melodic hum. Her eyes began to glow with a faint, predatory light. "So, someone is holding it. And they are using it to hurt others." She looked at Rem, a small, dangerous smile playing on her lips. "That sounds like a reason to stop asking for permission, doesn't it, Rem?"
Rem stood up, her hand instinctively reaching for the morningstar concealed beneath her cloak. She thought of Subaru's cold hand, Spica's tears, and Rigel's dark, pragmatic eyes.
If she didn't act, Rigel would become a murderer. But if she went to the forest, she would have to become the monster instead.
"We're going to the forest," Rem said, her voice turning as cold as the wind. "Tia... we're getting that stone."
"Finally," Tia whispered, the wind picking up around her. "Let's go see how fragile this Lord Arvin really is."
The Uncharted Forest did not welcome them. The trees were twisted, their branches interlocking like skeletal fingers, and the air hummed with a thick, oppressive mana that made Rem's skin crawl. But every time she felt like turning back, she saw the dark look in Rigel's eyes in her mind's eye. She had to do this. She had to be the one to get blood on her hands so her son wouldn't.
"There," Tia whispered, pointing a slender finger toward a jagged stone structure rising from the mist.
It wasn't a ruin; it was a fortress. Lord Arvin had turned the ancient sanctuary into a private stronghold. Guards in iron-studded leather patrolled the perimeter, their torches casting long, flickering shadows against the moss-covered stone.
"They look bored," Tia said, her voice airy and detached. "Shall I blow them away? It would be so quiet if they weren't breathing."
"No killing, Tia. We sneak in, we find the stone, and we leave," Rem commanded, though she felt the weight of her hidden morningstar. "If we spill blood, we're no better than the people who stole the stone in the first place."
Tia tilted her head, her eyes glowing a faint, dangerous violet. "Humans and their rules. You're so worried about being 'good' while your husband is busy being 'dead.'"
Rem flinched but didn't answer. They moved into the shadows.
Thanks to Tia's ability to muffle the wind, they slipped past the outer walls like ghosts. But as they reached the central chamber.
They stepped into the central courtyard, aiming for the chamber where the Life-Spring Stone was kept. Suddenly, the ground glowed with sealing runes. From the shadows emerged a squad of soldiers, their heavy armor hissing with steam as the magic within it activated.
In the center stood a man in ornate, reinforced scales—a commander who had been expecting a very different kind of fight.
"The Lagunian saboteurs were supposed to be here an hour ago," the commander barked, his hand on a massive, rune-etched broadsword. He stopped, squinting at them. "A girl in a kimono... and a spirit?"
His eyes widened as he felt the sheer, crushing pressure emanating from Tia. The air around her began to freeze, then boil, then scream. The sensors on his soldiers' helmets began to whistle in alarm, signaling a mana level that shouldn't exist.
"Commander!" one of the soldiers yelled, his voice cracking. "That's not a common spirit! The readings... it's the Spirit of Death! Zarestia!"
The commander stepped back, his face paling. "The Legendary Great Spirit? Here? In a border ruin?" He looked at Rem, confused and terrified. "Who are you to walk with a Calamity? Are you the one the Empire sent to reclaim the stone?"
"I don't care about the Empire or your war," Rem said, her voice trembling but firm. She stood in her Kararagi dress, looking like a commoner, yet her eyes held the ferocity of an Oni. "I need that stone for my husband. Give it to us, and we will leave."
The commander gritted his teeth. His unit was elite, but they were trained to fight armies, not legends. However, the greed of his mission won out. "Special Unit! Formation Delta! Anti-Spirit dampeners, now! Kill the girl—the Spirit will dissipate if we break her contract!"
"Kill Rem?" Tia tilted her head. Her long hair began to whip around her, glowing with a sickly, beautiful light. "That's a very bad idea. Rem is my friend. If you kill her, I'll have to turn this entire forest into a graveyard. Actually..." A jagged, terrifying smile split her face. "I think I'll do that anyway."
"Tia, no!" Rem shouted.
But the Kararagi unit moved first. They fired harpoons etched with mana-drain runes.
Tia didn't even flinch. She raised a hand, and the wind didn't just blow—it tore. The air pressure in the room shifted so violently that the stone floor cracked. The "elite" magic armor of the soldiers crumpled like tin foil under the weight of her gale.
"Die," Tia whispered.
It wasn't a fight; it was an execution. Tia moved through the courtyard like a blur of light and shadow. Each pass of her hand sent blades of compressed air through the "unbreakable" armor of the Special Unit. Rem watched in a daze of horror as these highly trained men, equipped with the best technology Kararagi had to offer, were reduced to broken heaps of metal and flesh.
The commander lunged at Rem, desperate to take a hostage. His broadsword glowed with a blinding light. Rem didn't have time to think. She reached into her kimono, swung her morningstar, and the heavy iron ball shattered the commander's reinforced gauntlet with a sickening crunch.
She stood over him, her horn beginning to throb with a faint light, her peaceful kimono stained with the dust and blood of the battlefield.
"I told you," Rem said, her voice hollow. "I just wanted the stone."
Tia stood amidst the wreckage of the Special Unit, her expression as calm as if she had just finished tea. She held the Life-Spring Stone in her hand, the green glow reflecting in her inhuman eyes.
"They were loud," Tia said, handing the stone to Rem. "Now they're quiet. Much better, right?"
Rem took the stone, her hands shaking. She looked at the carnage and felt a cold chill. She had avoided the war for sixteen years, but today, she had brought the war home.
As they turned to leave, a twig snapped in the treeline. Rem's head whipped around. She saw a flash of a familiar scarf—Rigel's scarf.
He was standing in the shadows, his hand on his dagger, his eyes wide as he looked at the piles of elite soldiers his mother and "Auntie Tia" had just annihilated. He had come to save her, but instead, he had seen the monster his mother used to be—and the terrifying thing Tia actually was.
The air in the courtyard was thick with the scent of ozone and cooling blood. Rem stood trembling, her Kararagi kimono splattered with the dust of the elite armor Tia had shredded. In her hand, the Life-Spring Stone felt strangely warm—pulsing with a light that seemed too bright for the carnage surrounding it.
"We have it, Rem," Tia said, her voice airy as she stepped over the mangled remains of a soldier. "Your husband is saved. Why do you look so sad? The loud men are quiet now."
"They weren't just men, Tia," Rem whispered, her voice breaking. "They were Kararagi soldiers. Our neighbors. Our protectors."
"They were in the way," Tia countered simply.
"Drop the stone, Mom."
The voice didn't come from the ruins. It came from the shadows of the arched gateway. Rem's heart plummeted. Rigel stepped into the moonlight, but he wasn't the son she had left at the cottage. He wore his shinobi gear, his face partially obscured, his eyes cold and sharp with an authority he had learned from Halibel.
Behind him, the forest seemed to come alive. Dozens of shadows flickered—more Kararagi regulars, supported by a unit of the city's urban assassins. They saw the carnage in the courtyard, the ten dead elite guards, and a collective snarl of range went through the line.
"Rigel?" Rem gasped. "What are you doing here? I told you—"
"I'm cleaning up your mess," Rigel snapped, his voice tight with fury. "Did you really think you could just walk into a military black-site? Halibel got word that Lagunian saboteurs were targeting this ruin. He set a trap. These men were here to catch spies, not a housewife and a Great Spirit!"
"But the stone—" Rem started, holding it out.
Rigel didn't even look at it. He pulled a small throwing knife and flicked it. The blade struck the stone in Rem's hand, and instead of shattering, the "artifact" dissolved into a flurry of illusory mana and cheap glass.
"It's a decoy, Mom! A fake!" Rigel shouted, stepping between his mother and the advancing soldiers. "Halibel used it to lure out agents. You just slaughtered ten of Kararagi's finest for a piece of enchanted trash!"
The soldiers at the gate leveled their spears. "Step aside, kid! We don't care if she's your mother! She and that Spirit just murdered our brothers-in-arms!"
Tia's eyes began to glow a violent purple again. "They're getting loud again, Rigel. Should I make them quiet?"
"Tia, shut up!" Rigel roared, not turning around. He knew if Tia unleashed her power again, there would be no going back. "If you kill one more person, you're not just 'eccentric' anymore. You'll be a Calamity-class criminal. Kararagi will hunt you, they'll hunt Mom, and they'll hunt the cottage. Do you want Subaru and Spica to die in an alleyway because they're the family of terrorists?"
The weight of his words hit Rem like a physical blow. She looked at her son—sixteen years old, standing alone against an army to protect his family from their own mother's mistakes.
"Rigel, I... I just wanted to save him," Rem sobbed, her knees finally giving out.
"I know," Rigel said, his voice softening just a fraction, though he didn't lower his guard. "But you chose the bloodiest way possible because you were scared. Now, listen to me. Tia, take her. Get out of here through the canopy. Go back to the cottage and stay there."
"And you?" Rem reached out for him.
"I have to talk them down," Rigel said, looking at the furious soldiers. "I'm Halibel's student. I have to convince them this was a 'spirit rampage' and that you were just a victim. If I can't... then we're all dead anyway. Halibel is out of the country; he can't protect us if this goes to the city council."
He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes dark with a bitter pragmatism. "Go, Mom. Before I can't stop them anymore. Save Dad the way you wanted to—but pray that I can save the rest of us from what you did tonight."
Tia didn't wait for permission. Sensing the shift in the air, she scooped Rem up. With a burst of wind that left the courtyard in a cloud of dust, they vanished into the night sky.
Rigel stood alone in the center of the ruins, surrounded by the dead and the dying. He slowly raised his hands, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Don't shoot!" he yelled to the soldiers. "I'm the one who reported the Spirit! It was out of control! I can explain everything!"
As he began the desperate lies to save his family, he felt a part of his childhood wither and die. He had promised to save his father, but he never realized the price would be becoming a liar and a shield for a massacre.
The flight back to the cottage was a blur of cold wind and stinging tears. Tia carried Rem with effortless grace, landing softly near the Banan trees. Inside, the cottage was deathly quiet. Spica had fallen asleep at the foot of the bed, her face tear-stained, while Subaru's breathing had slowed to a terrifying, shallow rhythm.
Rem sat on the floor, her head in her hands, the blood of the Kararagi soldiers still drying on her kimono. "What have I done, Tia? I went out to save him, and all I did was kill men and ruin my son."
Tia tilted her head, watching Rem with her usual detached curiosity. "You humans worry so much about 'consequences.' Rigel is a capable boy. He has the scent of a predator, like that wolf-man Halibel. He will handle those loud men. You should be happy—we are home."
Hours passed like centuries. Every floorboard creak made Rem jump, expecting the town guards to burst in.
Finally, just as the first grey light of dawn touched the horizon, the door opened. Rigel stepped in. He looked exhausted. His shinobi gear was torn, and his knuckles were bruised, but in his hand, he held a satchel of heavy, glass vials—the Red Grade extract.
"Rigel!" Rem scrambled to her feet, moving to embrace him, but he stepped back, a new, sharp distance in his eyes.
"Dad needs the first dose now," he said shortly, handing the medicine to her. "Half a vial, mixed with water."
Rem did as she was told, her hands shaking as she administered the life-saving tonic to Subaru. Almost immediately, the rattling in his chest eased. The color began to return to his ghostly pale face.
"What happened?" Rem whispered, looking at her son. "The soldiers... the ruins..."
Rigel leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "They were furious. They wanted your head, and they wanted the Spirit's core. Luckily, some of Halibel's contacts in the city guard arrived. They managed to quiet things down—officially, it's being recorded as a 'Spirit Rampage' caused by the forest's unstable mana. Your name isn't on the report."
Rem let out a breath of pure relief. "Thank the spirits. Then we're safe?"
"No," Rigel said, his voice dropping an octave. "There was a price for the silence. And for the medicine. Kararagi is desperate, Mom. The war in Lagunia is turning into a meat grinder, and the city council is conscripting every 'capable' warrior they can find. Especially those who owe the state a debt."
Rem felt a cold stone settle in her stomach. "Rigel... no."
"I've been drafted," Rigel said flatly. "And Tia, too. Because she's 'associated' with me, they're forcing her into a special tactical unit. We leave for the front lines in three days."
"I won't let you!" Rem cried, her voice rising in panic. "I know that war! I know the knights of Lagunia—I know the strength of Lord Roswaal! You're sixteen, Rigel! If you die..."
Rigel let out a short, bitter laugh. "Dad always said if it came down to a choice between saving you or saving me, he'd choose you without a heartbeat's hesitation. I guess I'm just making that choice for him."
"Don't say that!" Rem sobbed, the guilt crushing her. Her actions—her desperation—had sent her child to the front lines.
"Stop it, Rigel," a weak, raspy voice came from the bed.
Subaru had opened his eyes. He was still incredibly frail, but the light of the "Great Spirit of the House" was flickering back to life. He looked at his son with a mixture of pride and deep sorrow. "Don't... don't talk like that. You're making your mother upset. You know I'd never want you to trade your life for mine."
Rigel looked at his father, his expression softening for the first time that night. He gave a cocky, sharp-toothed grin—the one he had inherited from Subaru.
"Relax, old man," Rigel joked, though his eyes remained serious. "I'm Halibel's star pupil. And I've got Auntie Tia by my side. There aren't many people in this world fast enough to catch me, let alone kill me. I'll be back before you've even finished that bottle of medicine."
Subaru didn't laugh. He looked at Rigel's blade and then at Rem's tear-streaked face. "I don't like you talking about your death like it's a gamble, kid. War isn't a game."
Tia hovered over the bed, looking bored by the emotional weight. "War is fun, Subaru. There are so many people to see. I'll make sure Rigel doesn't break. He's much more interesting than the soldiers in the ruins."
Rem looked at her husband and her son, realizing the peaceful life they had built in Banan was over. The war had finally found them, and it was taking her son as its price.
"No."
The word was quiet, but it cut through the room like a blade. Rem stood up, her gaze fixed on Rigel. She saw the way his hand gripped his sword—not with fear, but with a restless, dark anticipation. She saw the shadow of the killer he was becoming, a path paved by her own desperation.
"Rigel, you aren't going," Rem said. Her voice was no longer that of a frightened wife, but of the Oni who had once survived the fires of her village. "I am the one who killed those men. I am the one who led Tia into that ruin. I will take the punishment. I will go to the front."
"Mom, don't be stupid," Rigel snapped, his eyes flashing. "You're a healer. A housewife. You haven't touched a weapon in sixteen years until tonight. I've been trained by the best assassin in Kararagi. I'm built for this."
"That is exactly why you aren't going," Rem countered, stepping toward him. "Subaru and I... we made a lot of mistakes raising you. The biggest one was pretending we didn't see what Halibel was turning you into. I see it now, Rigel. I see the hunger in your eyes. You don't just want to save Dad—you want to go to that war. You want to see if you're as good a killer as Halibel says you are."
Rigel flinched, his silence more telling than any argument.
Rem reached out, her hand trembling as she touched his cheek. "I know that feeling, Rigel. Long ago, before your father saved me, I was a person who would kill without a second thought. I lived in blood. Your father gave me a heart, but I still remember how to be a monster. If you go to that war with Tia, you won't come back—not the 'you' that Spica loves. You'll become a creature of bloodlust. I won't let that happen."
Tia floated between them, her head tilted. "Rem, I told you many times... those men in the ruins were loud, and I wanted to kill them. But I didn't kill you. I care for you. I won't let the war hurt you."
"I know, Tia," Rem said softly. She then turned to the bed, where Subaru was watching with wide, pained eyes.
"Rem, please," Subaru wheezed, reaching out a weak hand. "Don't do this. I can't lose you. Not to that war."
"Subaru, listen to me," Rem said, her voice cracking. "I already lost my sister. I lost my home once. I survived it, but I won't survive watching my child become a murderer because of my sins. If the worst comes, Rigel needs to be here. He is the only one strong enough to protect you and Spica while I'm gone."
Subaru bit his lip, his eyes glistening with tears of frustration and love. He looked at Tia, his expression becoming solemn. "Tia... if she goes... protect her. At all costs. I don't care about the war, or the stone, or the law. Bring her back to me. Even if you have to burn the whole world down to do it."
"A contract?" Tia's eyes lit up with a dangerous, shimmering light. "A Great Spirit's vow?"
"Yes," Rem said, stepping forward before Rigel could intervene. "Tia, make a contract with me. Not with Rigel. With me."
"Mom, stop!" Rigel shouted, reaching for her arm. "If you bind yourself to a Great Spirit like her, the strain on your gate—you don't know what it will do to you!"
"I know exactly what it will do," Rem said, looking her son in the eye. "It will make me a monster. And I would rather be the monster than see you become one."
Tia laughed, a sound like glass breaking. She drifted toward Rem, her fingers—cold as ice—touching Rem's forehead. The air in the cottage began to swirl, the Mana screaming as the bond was forged.
"I accept," Tia whispered. "Your soul, your path, your war. We are one, Rem."
As the light of the contract faded, Rem stood taller. Her blue hair seemed darker, and the aura around her was no longer peaceful. She looked at her son, who was staring at her with a mixture of horror and awe.
"Stay here, Rigel," Rem commanded. "Take care of your father. Be the man he thinks you are."
She turned toward the door, Tia following behind her like a beautiful, deadly shadow. The war in Lagunia was waiting, and the "Demon" of the Oni clan had finally woken up.
The next morning, the mist clung to the Banan trees like a shroud. Rem dressed in silence, tightening the sash of her kimono. She looked at her reflection—her blue hair was tied back severely, and her eyes, once soft and filled with the light of her home, were now as hard as frozen glass. Behind her, Tia hovered, her presence humming with a low, vibrating power that made the very air in the room feel thin.
They walked to the local military headquarters in Gield. The town was waking up to the sound of marching boots and the clattering of supply wagons. When they entered the recruitment office, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Soldiers stopped talking, their eyes darting between the woman in the modest dress and the shimmering, ethereal girl floating beside her.
The General behind the desk was a scarred veteran named Kiba. He had survived decades of border skirmishes, but when Rem stepped forward, he felt a cold sweat prickle his neck.
"Rem Natsuki," Kiba said, leaning back and crossing his thick arms. "I heard about the... incident at the ruins last night. Halibel's student came by to 'clear' things up. But what are you doing here? Halibel would have my head on a pike if he found out I let Subaru's wife march into a war zone."
"I am not here to ask for Halibel's permission," Rem said, her voice flat. "I am here to declare our enlistment. Myself and the Great Spirit Zarestia."
Kiba squinted. "You? You're a civilian. But her..." He looked at Tia, greed and fear fighting for dominance in his eyes. Having a Great Spirit on the front lines could turn the tide of the entire month's campaign. "If the Spirit joins, I can't exactly say no. But the army doesn't take 'volunteers' for a few days, Rem. Once you sign, you belong to Kararagi until the war ends."
"No," Rem said. She leaned over the desk, her shadow falling over the General's maps. "I am making a contract. We will serve on the front lines for one month. In exchange, my family's debt is cleared, the medicine for my husband is guaranteed, and you will forget that my son Rigel ever set foot in those ruins."
Kiba let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "One month? The war won't even be warmed up by then! You don't dictate terms to the Kararagi military, girl."
"Don't I?" Rem's voice dropped to a whisper. She didn't look back, but Tia moved. The temperature in the room plummeted. Frost began to bloom on the General's desk, and the wind began to howl in the enclosed office, knocking over inkwells and scattering papers.
"General," Rem said, her eyes glowing with a faint, demonic light. "If you don't like my terms, I can leave. And when Rigel comes looking for me—when he finds out you tried to force his mother into servitude—I won't stop him. And I won't stop Tia from 'protecting' me. Do you think your guards can stop a Great Spirit and a boy trained by the King of Shinobi?"
Tia leaned over Rem's shoulder, her face inches from the General's. "I think he'd look very pretty frozen in a block of ice," Tia mused. "Like a statue for the town square."
Kiba's jaw tightened. He looked at the frost on his hands and the murderous intent in the eyes of the "kind housewife." He realized he wasn't dealing with a victim. He was dealing with a woman who had nothing left to lose.
"One month is impossible," Kiba gritted out, trying to reclaim some dignity. "The logistics alone... I need you for at least a full deployment cycle. Two months. That's my final offer. Two months on the front lines, and I'll personally sign the papers clearing your family and providing the medicine."
Rem stared at him for a long beat. Two months. Two months away from Subaru, from Spica, and from the son who was already looking at her like a stranger. But it was better than Rigel losing his life in a trench.
"Two months," Rem agreed. She picked up the pen and signed the parchment. "But if a single soldier approaches my cottage while I am gone, or if my husband's medicine is even one day late... Tia and I will come back. And we won't be coming back to talk."
Kiba took the paper, his hands trembling slightly. "Get out of here. You leave with the vanguard at noon."
As they walked out of the office, Tia giggled. "That was fun, Rem! You're getting much better at being scary. Does this mean I get to kill more people now?"
"Only the ones who try to keep me from going home, Tia," Rem said, looking toward the horizon where the smoke of the war rose into the sky. "Only them."
The transition from the quiet life in Banan to the jagged edges of the border war was a blur of mud and iron. The farewell at the cottage remained a hollow ache in Rem's chest; Subaru's pale hand slipping from hers, Spica's confused whimpers, and Rigel—standing like a statue of salt by the door—watching her with eyes that were far too old for a sixteen-year-old boy.
Life in the Kararagi vanguard was a suffocating routine of blood and damp wool. As a contracted "Special Asset," Rem found herself stationed in a makeshift infirmary tent, her days spent mending flesh torn by Lagunian magic. Beside her, or often far above her, Tia moved like a beautiful, terrifying omen. While Rem grew thinner and paler under the weight of the wounded, Tia seemed to bloom in the carnage, her eyes glowing with a violet intensity as she returned from sorties, reporting how "quiet" she had made the enemy lines.
One evening, the heavy flap of the infirmary opened, and a messenger summoned Rem to the command tent.
Commander Vahn sat behind a desk cluttered with maps and half-empty wine bottles. He was a man of sharp features and eyes that calculated value in everything he saw. When Rem entered, his gaze didn't fall on her blood-stained apron with disgust; instead, he looked at her with the unsettling hunger of a merchant finding a rare jewel in the dirt.
"Sit, Natsuki," he said, gesturing to a chair that felt far too comfortable for a war zone. "I've been watching the reports. Your efficiency is… remarkable. And your Spirit? She has broken the morale of the Lagunian third division in less than a week."
"I am only doing what the contract requires, Commander," Rem said, her voice small and tired.
Vahn leaned forward, his elbows on the maps. "The contract. Yes. A two-month term. A very short time for such a high-yield asset." He paused, pouring a glass of dark Kararagi wine and sliding it toward her. "I noticed you were distressed this afternoon. When the scouts brought back those twenty prisoners. You didn't like that they were marked for execution."
Rem's hands tightened in her lap. "They had surrendered. They were unarmed. They were... just boys, not much older than my son."
"War is a practical business, Rem. We don't have the rations to feed mouths that can't fight for us," Vahn said smoothly. He watched her for a moment, then smiled—a sharp, predatory expression. "But I am a man of negotiation. I want you and the Spirit to stay in a 'good mood.' Productivity drops when the heart isn't in the work. So, how about a trade? Dine with me tonight. Speak to me as a person, not a soldier. In exchange, I will sign the order to spare those twenty boys. They'll be sent to the labor camps instead of the gallows."
Rem looked at the wine, then at the shadow of the gallows visible through the tent's mesh. The choice was a poison, but one she felt forced to drink. "If their lives are spared... I will stay."
The dinner was an exercise in suppressed terror. Vahn was polite, almost charming, but his words were laced with the weight of his authority. He spoke of the war, of the prestige he was gaining, and of the incredible potential Rem and Tia held.
"You realize," Vahn said, swirling his glass, "that a contract is a living thing. It can be modified, provided both parties agree. Two months is a tragedy. For the state, and for me."
"My husband needs me," Rem whispered.
"Your husband needs the medicine that I authorize the shipment of," Vahn countered gently. He reached across the table, his fingers grazing the back of Rem's hand. The touch made her skin crawl, but the magical bond of the contract hummed a warning against pulling away too sharply. "Think of what I could offer for an extension. Not just medicine. I could grant your family a noble title in Kararagi. Your son wouldn't just be an assassin's student; he could be a lord. Your daughter could have a dowry that would buy a province."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate hum. "Tell me, Rem. What would it take for you to agree? To stay here, by my side, for just a few more months? Name your price. Is it gold? Is it more lives spared? Or is it simply knowing that I will be... very, very grateful?"
Rem looked into his eyes and saw the cage he was building around her. It wasn't made of iron, but of her own love for her family and her pity for the dying.
Outside, the wind began to howl—a sudden, violent gust that shook the tent poles. Tia was close, sensing Rem's distress.
"I need time to think," Rem said, her voice trembling.
"Of course," Vahn smiled, finally pulling his hand away. "But don't take too long. The next batch of prisoners arrives tomorrow. Their lives—and your family's future—are quite a lot to weigh, aren't they?"
As Rem walked back to her tent through the mud.
The following morning, the reality of the bargain settled over the camp like a thick, choking fog. Rem found herself no longer in the medical ward, but assigned to the Commander's personal quarters. The magic of the contract felt like a heavy collar around her neck, pulsing every time she thought of the "agreement" she had made.
Tia followed her into their shared tent, her presence a silent, swirling wind. For the first time, the Great Spirit's face wasn't twisted into a bored pout or a murderous grin. She looked at Rem's trembling hands and reached out, her fingers—unnaturally cold—resting on Rem's shoulders.
"You smell like fear Rem," Tia whispered. "The man with the maps... he is weaving a web. If you want, I can tear the web. I can tear him. I will obey you, even if my heart wants to see this camp painted red."
"No, Tia," Rem said, her voice a fragile ghost of itself. "If we kill him, the medicine stops. If we kill him, Kararagi hunts Subaru. We have to play his game."
"Then I will be your shadow," Tia vowed, her eyes flashing. "I will be the wind that guards your back, even when you walk into his den."
That evening, Rem returned to the Commander's tent. The table was set with fine porcelain and silver—a grotesque display of luxury in a land of starving soldiers. Commander Vahn looked up, his eyes tracing the line of Rem's neck before settling on her face.
"You look tired, Rem," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "A wife's devotion is a heavy burden. But I have good news. My runners have secured a full crate of the Red Grade extract. It's enough to keep your Subaru stable for a year."
Rem's heart leapt, a spark of genuine hope piercing through her dread. "Thank you, Commander. Please, send it to Banan immediately."
"Of course," Vahn smiled, but he didn't reach for the shipping orders. Instead, he pulled a small, dark vial from his vest. He uncorked it, and a sickly-sweet, herbal aroma filled the air. He poured a few drops into Rem's wine glass, the liquid swirling like oil in water. "But rare medicine requires a rare sacrifice. This is a specialized military tonic—designed to keep our elite scouts focused, loyal, and... happy. It raises morale. It keeps the mind from wandering toward home when the work here is so important."
Rem stared at the glass. She knew what it was. A stimulant, a drug used to keep soldiers addicted to the high of war so they wouldn't desert.
"If you drink this with me every night," Vahn continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur, "the medicine will be on its way by dawn. Think of it as a toast to our new partnership. I am certain that, in time, we can become very close friends."
Rem looked at the wine. She thought of Subaru's rattling breath. She thought of Spica's laughter and the cold distance in Rigel's eyes. To save them, she had to lose herself.
She picked up the glass. Her hand didn't shake.
As she drank, the world began to tilt. The harsh edges of the tent softened. The cold mud of the trenches felt miles away. A false, chemical warmth flooded her chest, and for a moment, the guilt that had been crushing her heart felt light—almost nonexistent. She looked at Vahn, and through the haze of the drug, his predatory smile didn't seem so terrifying anymore. It just seemed... inevitable.
"Good girl," Vahn whispered, watching the light in her eyes grow hazy and distant.