The climb out of the crater was slow and brutal.
The valley floor below was smooth and hollow, scooped clean by spatial erasure. The edges were not. Torn bedrock rose in jagged cliffs, sharp enough to shred skin. Arthev climbed without thought, moving because stopping was not an option.
His fingers slipped. Then held. Raw flesh pressed into stone.
Blood smeared across the rock.
'Kid,' Shukaku muttered from the back of his mind, quieter than usual. 'You are bleeding out. Your soul power is almost gone. Let the Cat take over. She can clear this cliff in one jump.'
'I do not mind,' Matatabi offered softly. 'Rest. We will carry you.'
'No,' Arthev projected back, the mental command sharp and brittle like ice. 'I walk.'
He reached the top of the ridge just as the first hint of gray light touched the eastern horizon. The mist that used to shroud Still Heart Village was gone, obliterated along with the people who lived there. The air was clear, cold, and unforgiving.
Arthev stood at the ridge and looked back.
From up here, the devastation was total. A perfect circle of nothingness carved into the mountain range. No ruins. No smoke. Just a scar.
"This is not a resting place," he said quietly. "It is a crime scene."
He turned away.
Instead of following the road the killers had taken, he climbed higher, toward a small clearing Lian had shown him the day before. She had smiled when she pointed it out. Said the flowers bloomed there first every spring.
It was quiet spot. High. Close to the sky.
Arthev stopped and dropped to his knees in the frost-covered grass.
His right eye throbbed, a dull ache behind the socket. He could feel the weight of the dimension pressing against his mind.
Inside that timeless void, she was suspended. Frozen. Perfect.
'Why here?' Isobu asked softly. 'Inside the eye... she is safe. She will never rot. You could keep her forever.'
Arthev touched his eyelid.
The thought nearly broke him.
'And take her where?' Arthev thought back bitterly. 'To the battlefield? To the slaughter I am about to commit? She wanted peace. She wanted to stay in her valley.'
She did not belong in a world of war.
She belonged to the earth she had loved.
"Daikokuten: Release."
The air in front of him distorted. A black cube materialized and expanded instantly, depositing its contents gently onto the grass.
Lian appeared.
She looked exactly as she had the moment she died. The red festival dress was stained with the blood of her severed connection, but her face was peaceful. Her eyes were closed. The flowers in her braid were still fresh, preserved by the timeless void.
Arthev reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. His hand was trembling.
"You said you didn't like the cold," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
He didn't have a shovel. He only had the kunai in his boot and his own two hands.
He began to dig.
The ground in the Dragontooth Mountains was hard, packed with stone and frozen roots. Arthev drove the kunai into the earth, breaking the soil, then scooped it out with his bare hands.
One scoop. Two scoops.
His fingernails tore. The skin on his palms blistered and burst. Dirt mixed with the dried blood on his hands.
'Stop it, brat,' Shukaku growled, the sound vibrating with frustration. 'I control sand and earth! I can make a grave in one second! I can make it a tomb fit for a queen! Just ask me!'
Arthev didn't stop. He clawed at a stubborn rock, prying it loose until his knuckles split.
'I said I can do it!' Shukaku yelled.
'He needs to do this, Shukaku,' Matatabi silenced the tanuki, her tone solemn. 'This is not about efficiency. It is about atonement He needs to feel the earth.'
He didn't use Spirit Power to reinforce his body. He didn't use the Tailed Beast power that lay dormant and silent deep within him. He didn't use his tree martial soul to heal his body.He needed to feel this. He needed the physical pain to drown out the sound of the shattering stone playing on a loop in his head.
An hour passed. Then two.
The sun rose fully, casting long shadows across the mountains.
The grave was deep enough.
Arthev climbed out of the hole, panting heavily. He walked over to Lian's body. He hesitated, then carefully unclasped the Grumpy dragon plushie that had been clipped to her belt, the prize he had won for her. He tucked it under her arm.
"Something to guard you," he choked out.
He lifted her. She was light. Too light.
He lowered her into the earth. He arranged her dress, folding her hands over her chest. She looked like she was sleeping in a bed of dark soil.
Arthev stood over the grave for a long time. He memorized her face. He memorized the mole under her eye. He memorized the peace she had given him for two short days.
Then, he began to fill the grave.
The sound of dirt hitting fabric was the worst sound Arthev had ever heard. Worse than screams. Worse than bones breaking.
It was the sound of finality.
'I am sorry, Arthev,' Isobu murmured, his voice heavy with aquatic sorrow. 'We could not save her.'
Arthev didn't respond. He just kept filling the hole, handful by handful, until the ground was level.
When the mound was finished, he gathered heavy stones from the nearby ridge, piling them high to keep the scavengers away. He found a large, flat piece of slate and set it at the head.
He raised his kunai to carve her name.
But he stopped.
His hand hovered over the stone.
The organization with the Broken Circle. They had erased the village to hide their crime. If they came back to check their work and found a fresh grave with a name, they would know someone survived. They would know someone remembered.
And worse... they might desecrate it.
"I can't even give you your name," Arthev whispered, his voice breaking.
He lowered the kunai. He left the stone blank.
An anonymous grave for a girl who wanted a simple life.
Arthev knelt one last time. He pressed his forehead against the cold rough stone of the marker.
"I won't say goodbye," Arthev whispered,voice turning cold. "Goodbye is for people who move on. I am not moving on."
He stood up.
The wind howled across the peaks, tearing at his tattered blue tunic.
Arthev turned his back on the grave. He looked north, toward the vast, dangerous continent of Douluo Dalu. Toward the cities, the Spirit Halls, the hidden shadows.
He raised a hand to his eyes. He felt the new power surging there, the Mangekyou Shinragan.
'Matatabi,' Arthev called out internally.
'I am here,' the Two-Tails replied instantly.
'Lock down my emotions. Suppress the grief. I need to think tactically.'
'...Are you sure?' she asked hesitantly. 'That is dangerous for your psyche.'
'Do it.'
A cool sensation washed over his brain as Matatabi reluctantly applied a layer of calming soul power. The tears stopped. The shaking stopped. The boy's face smoothed into a mask of terrifying indifference.
'Shukaku,'
'Yeah?'
'Keep your senses at maximum range. If you smell anything with that Broken Circle scent... wake me up.'
'With pleasure,' Shukaku grinned, flashing a jagged tooth in the mindscape.
He took a step. Then another.
His gait changed. The hesitation was gone. The lightness of the boy who wanted to be a fisherman's apprentice was gone.
Arthev began his descent down the mountain, leaving Still Heart Village behind.
To be continued.....