The room was dim light from fractured crystal lamps trembled along the black marble walls like dying stars gasping for air. The scent of rust and burnt paper filled the silence.
And in the center of it all Bakuza knelt.
His body was stitched with scars that pulsed faintly with orange-red light, as if his veins still remembered fire.
Across from him, on a throne of carved obsidian and bone, sat Lucere, pink, wolf-cut hair shimmering faintly in the dull glow. A grin curved his lips, but his eyes swirling orange, red, and black, like a storm of molten ink never smiled. They layered atop one another, gazes stitched and shifting, as though reality itself refused to decide which one was truly looking at you.
Every breath between them felt like a frostbite waiting to happen.
Bakuza whispered, "Master..."
Lucere tilted his head lazily, that playful smirk never quite reaching the eyes that devoured everything they saw.
"Bakuza… I told you to bring him to me." His tone was airy, almost kind but the smile fractured. "Why didn't you bring him?"
Bakuza's cracked lips twisted upward into something that might have been a grin once.
"I didn't remember, master… hehe."
Lucere exhaled, a sound that wasn't quite a sigh more a tremor through the air itself. The walls groaned. His Shinrei leaked out, and the atmosphere distorted like a mirage melting under divine heat.
"I won't tolerate failure," Lucere said quietly, the softness sharper than any blade. "You know that, don't you?"
The floor beneath Bakuza's knees shattered into fine dust. His lungs refused to move, the invisible weight of Lucere's Shinrei pressing down an emotional gravity, an ocean made of hate and admiration and something far worse.
He bowed deeper, his spine trembling like a dying flame.
"Yes… master."
Lucere's expression softened, then twisted again into that eerie, childlike grin. He leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand, his Shinrei suddenly reeling back into stillness like a serpent returning to its coil.
"You know how much I care about you, right, Bakuza?" he said, voice dripping with a warmth that froze everything it touched.
Bakuza laughed — hoarse, broken, but filled with devotion.
"Of course… Master Lucere. Your care is… everything."
A thin trickle of blood ran down his cheek not from injury, but from the sheer pressure of Shinrei that had just been lifted.
Lucere smiled wider, eyes swirling faster now, like the edges of a black hole spinning.
"Good," he murmured. "Then don't fail me again. The Veinwalker you fought—Kaen Suro… he's not just a mistake in their system. He's a seed."
Bakuza's eyes widened.
"A seed… of what?"
Lucere stood, the air trembling with each lazy step he took. When he reached Bakuza, he lifted his hand fingers brushing the warrior's forehead.
"Of emotion unrestrained. If he blooms… even the Sages will burn."
The words were calm.
The meaning was apocalyptic.
And then, just like that, Lucere's tone snapped back into cheer.
He spun once, stretching his arms like a dancer.
"Now go, my little flame. Make sure to capture him"
Bakuza bowed low, eyes hollow but burning with loyalty that bordered on worship.
"As you command, Master."
When Bakuza left the chamber, the walls sighed as if grateful to be alone again.
But the air still carried Lucere's laughter, faint and echoing, long after the door closed.
(He's growing faster than expected…)
(Khael Corzedar… Kaen Suro…)
..
…
.
…
After that the next day..
The mists over Tildaroot were thin that morning, letting the fractured sunlight spill across the quiet valley. The air smelled faintly of herbs, wet soil, and smoke still lingering from the purification rites.
Rows of villagers stood outside their homes no longer pale, no longer trembling. The sickness in their eyes had vanished. What was left was the warmth of gratitude, the fragile hope of those who had looked at death and found life waiting on the other side.
Khael and Kaen stood at the heart of the square, cloaks fluttering in the cold wind.
Khael's sharp gaze softened as he took in the sight. The villagers who had once been shadows now moved freely again laughing, gathering tools, praying to the dawn.
He exhaled, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"You already cured them."
Kaen brushed a strand of ash-brown hair away from his face, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of rekindled life around them.
"Well, if it weren't for you…" He glanced sideways at Khael. "We heard what you did in the North — the method you developed to counter the Lunaris Dust. Without that, half this village would still be screaming in their sleep."
Khael's expression flickered with mild surprise, then calm humility.
"Oh, is that so… Well, I wouldn't have succeeded if it weren't for them."
He nodded toward the rest of the squad.
Saya grinned, hands clasped behind her back.
"How humble."
Ceyla folded her arms, a spark of mischief lighting her storm-colored eyes.
"Learn to boast a little, you jerk. Don't be so naïve — no one ever remembers the quiet heroes."
Saya leaned in slightly, her grin sharpening.
"Oh? Concerned for him, Ceyla?"
Ceyla blinked — then froze, her voice catching.
"M–me? Con… concern y-you? In–sane!"
Her words stumbled, cheeks blooming crimson.
Kaen chuckled softly, shoulders relaxing for the first time in days. Juno just sighed in silent amusement, while Lira covered her mouth with a gentle laugh, her silver eyes bright.
Even Khael allowed himself a small, genuine smile.
And for a moment just a heartbeat, the battlefield seemed like a distant dream.
Only Rael remained still, stoic as ever. The faint breeze ruffled his dark hair, but his gaze never wavered from the horizon.
There was peace here… but his instincts whispered it wouldn't last.
(Something's watching…)
He didn't speak it aloud. He didn't need to.
The sound of footsteps drew their attention. The village elder, a frail man wrapped in white linen robes, approached with trembling hands and eyes that shimmered like water catching light.
He bowed deeply before them.
"Veinwalkers… our saviors," the old man said, voice quivering with reverence. "For years we thought the curse of the Lunaris would consume us all. Yet you—" his voice broke, "—you've given us a second dawn."
Khael shook his head gently.
"We only guided what your people already had, the will to survive."
The elder smiled, the lines on his face softening.
"Then may your hearts be guarded by the stars you protect."
He turned to leave, but not before placing his hand over Khael's and for a brief moment, Khael felt a flicker of something strange. A pulse. A residue of Shinrei… faint, almost hollow.
(No… that's not village energy. It's something older… deeper.)
Khael's eyes narrowed slightly as the warmth faded from the old man's touch.
Kaen noticed.
"What is it?"
Khael's voice was low.
"There's something under this land."
The laughter in the background faded as wind swept through the village square.
The air grew heavier, too heavy for a place that had just been healed.
The laughter was fading when Khael's eyes caught something, a shimmer crawling under the elder's skin.
It wasn't light.
It was hunger.
A pulse low, guttural, alive.
(No… that's not Shinrei. That's something trying to feed on it—!)
Without thinking, Khael shoved the old man back.
"Get away!"
The elder gasped, clutching his chest and from his shadow, black tendrils erupted like veins tearing through the ground. The air screamed.
The Shinrei Shades surged upward, swirling in a cyclone of distorted faces and whispers.
They latched onto Khael and the elder both, devouring every ounce of warmth.
Ceyla: "KHAEL!!!"
To be continue