Diego wrenched his arm free and swung his claymore in a wide cleave. Yona sprang back, boots skidding, and Diego's head snapped toward the pounding footsteps cutting through the din---the shouting, the clash of steel, the chaos as mercenaries fought to hold back the outsiders being driven from the gate.
Through the flame of the torches, Diego locked eyes on Keiser. Blood streaked the boy's body, as if every stride was a hammer blow to his body. The mercenary's muscles coiled, veins standing out like cords, as he heaved his massive claymore to meet the charge---ready to turn Keiser's rush against him.
But he didn't see the flick of Keiser's hand as he ran. While Diego focused on fending off the princess' relentless strikes, something arced high into the torchlight, spinning end over end.
Keiser never looked at it. His gaze burned straight past Diego---fixed on the mage shrieking just a few steps behind the hulking mercenary. Every ounce of fury in him tunneled forward, unbroken and unblinking.
Diego's gaze narrowed, misreading the motion as a feint, but his distraction lasted a heartbeat too long.
Because the princess did see.
Her hand shot up without hesitation, fingers closing around the hilt that dropped perfectly into her grip... her other short blade, returned to her like an unspoken signal.
Her lips curled into a fierce grin. "About time."
Now, with her Moonlight Twin Short Blades returned to her grip, the princess set her stance with precision... both swords driving downward against Diego's massive claymore.
The impact rang like struck iron, and in that instant her flame roared back with full force. Heat bled off her body, her blades shimmering like burning silver.
Diego snarled, muscles straining, his teeth grinding together as he forced his weight into the clash. But the ground betrayed him... his boots sank deeper, gouging furrows into the dirt to keep him upright.
Sparks danced where steel met steel, and the sheer pressure of their contest whipped the air into a violent current, nearly extinguishing the torches around them. Shadows spun wild across the battlefield.
The mercenary cursed under his breath. She was no longer the girl who had been on the back foot, she was pressing him back, every strike forcing him closer to breaking.
And in that stolen moment, with the mercenary pinned and the mage exposed, Keiser lowered his shoulder. Every burning rune in his body flared like molten fire as he drove his charge straight through.
He heard the mage shriek before he even looked at him. Still shrieking, spitting the same curses he'd been hurling all night…
"spawn of evil! You brought the curses inside! You're filthy--- evil---"
The old man had his hands half-raised, shielding his face as if bracing for an attack that never came. His voice cracked mid-word, stuttering into confusion.
When Keiser brushed past...
Keiser made it to the gate.
Blood dripped freely from his hand as he staggered, planting his palm flat against the cold stone where the village's runic ward was carved. His fingers smeared red across the surface... blood binding to the magic. The symbols flared instantly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Then they spread.
A surge of light burst from beneath his skin, runes crawling outward from his palm like molten veins... first down his calves, lacing around his shins, then upward across his abdomen and chest. The marks spidered along his shoulders, winding up his neck, almost kissing his cheek as they branched from his spine. They writhed and burned, each one flaring brighter with every breath he took.
The pain was unbearable, but Keiser's expression hardened.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
And what it would cost.
"Ah! What are you doing?!" the mage sputtered, his voice breaking into a frantic, indignant pitch. He stumbled forward, seizing Keiser by the arm and the back of his tunic, tugging with surprising desperation.
"Blood scripting?! Are you insane?! That's a taboo magic! Don't... don't you dare sully my beautiful runes with that filth!"
Keiser's lips peeled back into something between a sneer and a grin. Slowly, his head snapped around, his hair clinging to his face as his eyes bored into the man. With his free hand, he fisted the mage's robe and yanked him close. The pristine fabric instantly stained, blotches of red blooming where his blood seeped in.
"What you did," Keiser rasped, his voice raw and edged with a wheeze, "is far worse than anything you'd call taboo."
The mage's face twisted, but before he could answer, the runes beneath Keiser's hand flashed.
Not golden, like the mage's sanctimonious light, all showy virtue covering a greedy hand.
Not white streaked with purple sparks, like the princess's fox-core blades, noble and untamed.
Not the pure, steady glow of Lenko's carved runes, every line etched with patient craft.
But red.
A deep, pulsing red that spread outward like fire racing through dry kindling. The carved ward lines blazed, twisting as if alive, responding not to the mage but to Keiser's intent.
The stones trembled under the weight of it, a thrumming beat echoing through the wall, through the ground, through the very air.
It was as if the ward understood.
And there was no time left to stop it.
The mage shrieked, spittle flying as his voice cracked.
"Diego! You useless dog---leave that beast and deal with this evil brat! EVIL RED! You filthy boy! You dare?! Aurex Red! Who are you---how in the hells do you have those eyes?!"
His desperation clawed at the air, ragged and wild, every word half-command, half-terror.
Keiser didn't answer.
He didn't even spare the old man a glance.
His hand remained clamped on the mage's robe, dragging him along as he moved.
One step.
Then another.
Each step left a smear of blood across the wall, his fingers never leaving the carved runes.
The crimson trail bled into the stone like a brand, dripping downward in rivulets. The air quivered with every pulse, the veins of light in the wall shifting, breaking, bending to his will.
The mage flailed against him, yanking at Keiser's grip, but the boy's hold was iron.
Step after step, Keiser pressed forward, each movement heavier, slower, but unyielding.
And then...
He crossed the threshold.
At the very edge of the gate, where the old ward clung stubbornly to the last threads of its original master, Keiser finally released the mage.
The old man staggered back, his once-pristine robe smeared with blood, his face a mask of horror.
Keiser's hand slid free of the wall, slick with red. The stone beneath him pulsed like a heartbeat.
Once.
Twice.
Then it flared.
The ward surged outward in a violent wave, lines of light unraveling from the gate like serpents.
Not the pure gold of before, but a molten, searing red... alive, hungry, and spreading.
The new ward flowed like blood in veins, racing through the village boundary, rewriting the old pattern with a force that shook the ground.
The barrier was no longer the mage's.
It was Muzio's mana.
Under Keiser's command.
Keiser heard it faintly at first, almost drowned beneath the roar of the ward as it flared to life.
"MUZIO!"
Lenko's voice cut through everything, ragged with disbelief.
Keiser turned his head, just enough to see.
There... at the edge of the square... Lenko was shoving back the women and children, his arms spread wide, trying to herd them toward safety. His eyes, however, were locked on Keiser, on Muzio.
Wide. Stunned. Afraid.
Keiser could feel it like a weight.
Even Diego faltered. His blade hung mid-guard, his stance broken as he looked toward the gate. For the first time, the mercenary's relentless focus cracked, his expression tightening into one of wary confusion.
The princess used the opening.
She pushed off with her heel, leaping back in a flash of moonlit steel. She too turned toward the gate. Her chest rose and fell, her twin short blades dripping flame, but her gaze was no longer on the mercenary.
It was on him.
Keiser stood just beyond the ward, one hand had pressed into the mage's robe again, pinning him in place.
The mage clawed at Keiser's wrist, trying desperately to pry himself free. Voice had gone hoarse, but his panic was unrelenting.
It didn't matter. He couldn't break free.
The reason was clear.
The runes burned across Keiser's body... living, crawling lines of molten red, snaking over his calves, climbing his thighs, coiling around his spine, his chest, his throat. They pulsed with each breath he drew, flooding him with raw, vicious strength.
The blood loss no longer mattered, the weakness no longer mattered.
Keiser could feel the vitality pouring back into his limbs. Each flicker of the glowing script was like fire coursing through his veins. His fingers tightened, steady and unshaking, on the mage's robe.
For the first time since he had set foot in Muzio's failing body... he felt whole again.
And he met their eyes...
Lenko's face twisted... devastation, disbelief, and something deeper, something heavier.
The princess leapt forward... not toward Diego, who simply stood frozen, his sword slack in his grip... but toward the gate.
For the first time, the mercenary didn't move, didn't strike. The fight itself seemed to collapse, as if the air had been cut away, all eyes drawn to the figure outside the ward.
The mage.
The prince.
Yona reached the threshold in one breath, her blades blazing, but as she tried to leap through, her body hit something.
The ward.
The force threw her back a half-step, her breath stolen. Her hand snapped forward, instinctively touching what barred her way. Her palm pressed against the barrier... it shimmered faintly, rippling where she touched it, yet held firm.
Her eyes widened, shock breaking across her face.
"No…" she whispered.
The truth rippled through the silence like a blade across taut string.
Lenko's shoulders sank. His lips parted, but no sound came. Behind him, the 'outsiders', the villagers, even Diego himself... all had stilled, staring. They understood.
When no one could enter Hinnom.
Now, no one could leave it too.
The village was sealed.
The mage realized it too. His eyes, already wild, grew impossibly wide, his face draining to an ashen pallor. His lips trembled, forming words that broke into whimpers.
Because it wasn't the people trapped inside that the ward had forsaken.
It was just them... outside.
And the horror that would come.
The mage shook his head, thrashing against Keiser's grip, his voice shrill and cracking.
"No... no, no, no! What have you done, you fool... what have you done!?"
Keiser didn't answer. The runes on his body burned brighter, a deep crimson pulse crawling over his skin like veins of fire, and his grip only tightened, steady and merciless.
Keiser's grin was sharp, blood-streaked, and merciless. His eyes glowed with the reflection of the runes searing across his body.
"The ward will go out if the mage dies," he said, his voice low, almost casual, though every word carried a weight that pressed on the silence. His lips twisted, daring the old man to deny it.
"That's what happens, right? If I'd just pushed you out without binding the runes to myself first… you could've dispelled them, walked back in again."
He yanked the mage closer until their faces nearly touched, the stink of blood and panic heavy between them. The mage clawed at his grip, sputtering with fear.
Keiser's teeth clenched, his voice dropping into a growl that felt carved from the marrow of his rage.
"This isn't a curse," he hissed. The runes along his spine flared, burning brighter than the torches behind the ward. "This is karma."