The sun's fading fire crept across the vast, bare plaza, casting long shadows from the stone walls of the Legion's Guild. A sharp wind sighed over the cobblestones. Near the great, closed doors, a deep violet tear in the air welled, then set.
Kin, Sye, Senen, and the Master staggered onto the stones, their bodies still shuddering from the horrors they'd fled. Raw anger twisted Kin's face, conviction hard in his burning eyes. His sword rasped free of its sheath as he found his feet, Sye made a small, tight sound, her hand clamped to her mouth. The Master drew a slow breath, his face a still mask in the waning light. His gaze fell to Tiren.
Tiren's body lay broken on the cold stones at their feet. The Master moved first, his own motions slow, weighted in the failing light. His trench coat came off. He knelt, draping it softly over Tiren's form. The head, cut clean, lay sharp against the dark cloth, its eyes stretched wide with the last, awful surprise.
Kin watched, his breath coming in harsh, broken pulls. The moment the Master straightened, he sprang. The drawn sword, already in his unsteady hand. The tip stopped inches from the Master's throat. His eyes flashed. Senen put a hand on Kin's quivering arm. "Easy, Kin," he said, his voice steady.
"Why?" Kin forced out the word, a torn sound from deep in his chest. Grief and rage rasped in his voice. "Why didn't we fight?" His hand gripped tightly against his swords handle.
The Master's chin raised. The blade's point did not dip. For a long moment, shock, then a deep, visible sadness, flickered in his eyes. Then they hardened, like flint. "I'm not letting anyone else die." His voice was soft, but each word dropped like a stone into the thick quiet.
He turned. With firm fingers, he pushed the sword tip away. He bent, his muscles pulled tight as he gathered Tiren's lifeless weight. Then, without looking back, he walked towards the great guild doors.
Kin's sword slammed the stones. The steel rang out, once. Twice more, the sound sharp in the quiet plaza. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" He screamed, his voice tearing. Sye laid a hand on his shaking back. His strength broke. Kin sank to the ground, legs sprawled wide, useless. He saw Tiren fall. The clean cuts. The pieces. Tiren's face, his mouth stuck open, eyes still wide with surprise. A hard shudder went through Kin. "Tiren…" He choked, the name a rough sound in his throat. "I couldn't do anything." His hands clenched tight, knuckles a gleaming pale against the sweat on his skin. "I am weak," he whispered. His head hung low, his eyes seeing only the dust collected between his feet.
The sharp edge of Kin's grief had dulled with the passing of time, worn down by exhaustion and the long walk through the quiet, shadowed streets of the town. The cold of the plaza stones was only a memory now, replaced by the familiar chill of the evening air near his own home.
He stood before a plain wooden door, the grain softened by years of sun and rain. His hand, when he raised it, felt heavy. He knocked, a soft tap, barely disturbing the silence of the street. A faint breeze stirred his hair. His face was a mask of settled sorrow, tear tracks long dry on his cheeks, leaving them tight. The door opened. His mother stood there. A smile, quick and bright, lit her face.
"Kin! How have Yo—" Her smile died. She saw his eyes. Her own then searched his face. "...what's wrong, Kin?"
He opened his mouth. Only his breath escaped. Kin's throat seized, a burning knot. His legs buckled. He swayed then simply fell against his mother, burying his face in the soft wool of her shoulder. A shudder tore up from some deep, broken place inside him, one violent tremor that shook his whole frame. Her arms clamped around him, hard and sure. That solid warmth, it cracked something sealed tight within his chest. Then the grief poured out and fresh tears came. His mother held him tighter as the drops soaked her dress.
Meanwhile, the massive wood and iron doors of the Legion's Guildhall groaned open, and the vibrant, chaotic energy inside instantly began to fracture.
Just moments before, the great hall had been a packed labyrinth of noise the cheerful clinking of heavy armor, boisterous laughter, and the loud, echoing voices of members winding down from their evening duties. It was alive, humming with activity. But the second the Master stepped across the threshold, a sudden, contagious chill rippled through the warmth of the crowd.
In his arms, he cradled a heavy, unmistakable weight, wrapped tightly within the dark fabric of his trench coat. Even beneath the thick cloth, the rigid, sharp contours of the shape left absolutely no doubt about what he was carrying. It was a body.
The bustling life of the hall evaporated in an instant, replaced by a suffocating, bleak tension that locked everyone in place. Heads snapped around. Boisterous conversations died mid-sentence, leaving the air completely hollow. Hundreds of eyes locked onto the grim procession as the Master and Senen stepped into the light. As they moved forward, a low, frantic wave of whispering broke out in their wake, rustling through the frozen crowd like dry winter leaves.
Near the edge of the crowd, a latecomer rushed into the hall, entirely missing the initial shock wave. He bumped into the rigid back of a comrade who was already staring open-mouthed at the door. Nudging his friend's shoulder, the latecomer asked in a hushed, confused tone, "Hey, what's going on?"
His friend didn't even turn his head, his eyes glued to the entrance. "I don't know," he muttered back, his voice trembling slightly.
As the Master and Senen moved further into the room, a low, frantic wave of whispering broke out in their wake, rustling through the frozen crowd like dry winter leaves.
"Who is that wrapped in the coat?"
"What happened out there?"
"Is that one of our own?"
The Master ignored every word, every stare. His jaw was locked into a hard, rigid line, his gaze fixed straight ahead on the central wooden staircase. He began the long, agonizingly slow climb toward his private quarters.
Every single footstep they took echoed with a heavy, hollow thud against the old timber—a slow, deliberate rhythm that felt like a countdown into darkness. The silence following them up the stairs grew increasingly eerie, punctuated only by the fading, panicked murmurs from the hall below.
They finally reached the top landing, stepping away from the balcony and moving down the dim, shadowed corridor. With a final, heavy click, the door to the Master's room closed behind them, completely shutting out the rest of the world and sealing them in with the grim reality of their loss.
Now in the quiet of the Legion's Guild, the Master sat hunched at his desk, fingers steepled before him, his gaze fixed on nothing. Dust motes danced in the thin light from a high window. Senen stood by the far wall, arms crossed, still. He watched the patterns in the floorboards.
"There's too much we don't know," the Master, his voice a low hum. Senen head lifted his eyes met the Master's. "But let's focus on what we can do." The Master didn't move, only his head lifted slightly. "Senen… did you see what that thing did?"
Senen's eyes dropped, just for a beat, his mouth a firm line. He looked up, his gaze steady. "Barely… Usually Monsters have a clear intent to kill and I can sense it way before any danger." His hand, which had been resting by his side, gestured slightly as he spoke. "But that royal, it was like..." He paused, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow.
The Master, watching Senen intently, then pushed himself up from his chair, leaning his weight on his knuckles on the scarred wood of the desk. The old wood groaned faintly. "like what Senen?" "it was like he was having fun with us, he had no intent to kill until the moment, he striked." Senen's own hands, which had been loose, now tightened into fists at his sides. A long breath escaped the Master. He sank back heavily into his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. His stare was empty. "so we were just a joke to him..."
Senen's jaw hardened. A new light entered his eyes. He straightened, pushing his back off of the wall, seeming to grow taller. He took a deliberate step forward. "It's time I remember..." His head dipped in a slow, formal bow, the crown of his head facing the Master. " As a dear friend of mine. Allow me to take your very best and train them." Senen's head lifted. His shoulders kept the line of the bow. His eyes, fixed on the Master now, holding a hard, new fire. "We will take Kiichi down. Together."
Later that night, under a clear sky, the stars spread across the expanse above, Sye lay flat in the cool grass. The moon was set to one side. Her eyes searched the boundless space.
Her hand rose, fingers spread, reaching as if to gather the distant lights. "I still can't protect the ones who mean the most," she whispered, the words lost almost before they formed.
Her hand dropped, covering her eyes. An old image surfaced: her parents, still and pale, her small body sheltered beneath theirs.
A tremor ran through her. She curled onto her side, knees pulled to her chest, her face tight in discomfort. She made herself open her eyes. As they opened she saw Tiren's severed head resting on the grass beside her. His eyes stared wide, mouth agape. Her breath seized. A raw sound clawed at her throat. She blinked, violently. Gone. Only the dark grass met her gaze.
Sye let out the breath she'd been holding. Slowly, she took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the cool night air fill her lungs, then let it out just as slowly, closing her eyes. The tightness in her chest began to ease. With another deep breath, a fragile calm settled over her. She drifted away into the vast, silent sky.