The carriage rolled steadily along the open roads, leaving behind the charred remains of the forest. The midday air was warm, and the wheels struck the earth with a soft rhythm as Hans kept the pace with military precision. Inside, silence prevailed. Liza studied the map, Tama and Pochi watched the scenery through the window, and Satoru simply gazed toward the horizon.
When the sun reached its highest point, Satoru lifted a hand. Hans stopped the carriage at once. In the distance, among the greenery, stood the remnants of an ancient structure. Stone fragments lay half-buried under thick vines, but what drew the eye was the massive fallen arch stretching over the terrain—something resembling a torii. Time had tilted it until it touched the ground, half of it swallowed by the roots.
"We'll camp here," Satoru said after a few seconds of observation.
No one questioned him. It was a good resting spot—open enough for a camp, secluded enough to go unnoticed.
Hans checked the perimeter, moving through the trees without a sound. Liza organized the provisions and set up a small fire with the materials supplied by the soldiers. Tama and Pochi volunteered to care for the horses, though the task was closer to play than duty.
Satoru, meanwhile, stood by the carriage, watching as each of them went about their work—the pieces moving on their own without a single direct order. That quiet unsettled him more than he would admit.
For several minutes he simply observed them. When his gaze fell on Pochi brushing one of the horses, a thought escaped him in silence: golems would be far more efficient. They would need no rest or care, and their strength would far exceed that of any animal. He reached out, intending to access his inventory to check the available materials—only for the flow of mana to halt abruptly. An invisible wall blocked the spell.
The faint click of failure echoed in his mind. He lowered his hand without changing expression, though his thoughts grew heavier. It wasn't the first time he forgot, yet each failed attempt reminded him of his current state. Still, he showed no irritation. He merely stepped aside and looked up at the sky, uncertain of what to do.
The others continued their work. Hans moved soundlessly in the distance, Liza inspected the tools, and the girls laughed softly while tending the horses. For the first time in a long while, Satoru had nothing to do. He tried to convince himself that this was how things should be—that as a lord, leaving minor tasks to his subordinates was natural. Yet the thought brought no peace, only an emptiness that settled deep within him.
With no immediate function, he decided to hunt something for lunch. He reached for the sacred sword, still wrapped in the black fabric that he, Zen, and the Black Demon had woven to suppress its light, and turned toward the forest. But before he could take a step, Liza intercepted him.
"Are you going out, Master?" she asked with the cautious tone of someone who didn't dare to correct him.
"Yes. It'll be faster if I bring something myself."
"That won't be necessary. We still have rations of meat and bread from the soldiers," she said, watching him closely. "We should use those before they spoil."
Satoru stopped. He could have insisted, but he didn't. He nodded slowly and set the sword back beside the carriage before sitting near the fire.
For a moment, he considered that perhaps this was the proper state of things—that as their leader, delegating simple chores was no mistake. Even so, something inside him resisted the stillness. He closed his eyes, revisiting the fragments of knowledge he had absorbed from Mito: sacred magic, combat tactics, sword forms. Everything was perfectly ordered in his mind, yet that perfection brought him no comfort.
Around him, the sounds of teamwork filled the air. Pochi and Tama finished with the horses and approached the camp laughing softly. It was then that Satoru decided to try something. As they passed by, he lifted his hand, intending to place it gently atop one of their heads—perhaps both. It was a simple gesture, something he had seen many times before, a silent form of acknowledgment.
But the moment his hand neared them, both girls tensed. A tremor ran through their small bodies. Pochi pressed her lips together while Tama lowered her ears, not even understanding why.
Satoru froze mid-motion. His eyes softened slightly, then he withdrew his hand without a word.
It was Liza's voice that broke the stillness.
"Tama, Pochi—come help me with this."
The girls turned at once. The tension vanished from their faces as if it had never existed, and they ran toward Liza with their usual energy.
Satoru watched them go, then looked down at his hand, resting motionless on his knee. He made no comment. Slowly, he closed it into a fist and remained still, watching the smoke of the fire curl up into the sky.
Hans returned soon after, silent as ever. He stopped a few steps from the carriage and announced in his dry tone that the area was clear. Satoru glanced his way and nodded, picking up the sword still wrapped in black cloth.
"Come with me."
The ninja followed without question. They walked for several minutes through the trees until they reached the fallen torii. The structure, slanted and tangled in vines, lay among the undergrowth like the remains of something long forgotten. The cracked columns still bore faint traces of carvings, but their power—whatever it once was—had long faded.
Satoru stopped before it. The air was still, sunlight forming golden reflections across the stone.
"A portal…" he murmured, almost disinterestedly. "Or what's left of one."
Hans looked up.
"Do you believe it still works?"
"No." Satoru shook his head slowly. "It's dead. Just like whatever they tried to summon here."
He approached and laid a hand on one of the columns, feeling the weathered texture beneath his fingers. For a while, he stood in silence.
"If there's one thing I learned from that encounter," he said at last, "it's that even defeat can open your eyes. It showed me things I hadn't seen before—things I ignored because I didn't deem them useful. In that sense… I suppose I owe her something."
Hans remained silent.
"But understanding doesn't bring reconciliation." Satoru exhaled softly, his voice little more than a whisper. "She tried to break what I am. And though she failed, the attempt was enough."
His fingers tightened against the stone.
"It wasn't compassion that let me live. It was weakness."
The calm in his tone didn't match the power that gathered within him. The air grew heavy, and the black cloth around the sword trembled under the pressure of mana.
"And now I seek neither redemption nor answers. I only wish to see her fall."
The blow came without warning. His fist struck the column, the dry crack of shattering stone echoing through the clearing. The arch collapsed under the second strike, crumbling into dust and roots.
Silence returned, absolute. Satoru lowered his hand, looked over the remains, and murmured so quietly that the wind nearly carried it away:
"Not everything broken deserves repair."
He took up the sword, adjusted the cloth, and turned back toward the path. Hans followed without a word. Behind them, the ruins lay scattered—reduced to fragments.
For the first time in a long while, Satoru hadn't restrained himself. He had let his anger speak for him—and felt no regret.
***
The rest of the day passed without incident.
After lunch, Satoru glanced at the sky; it was still early, the sun high above. He recalled the directions Hans had given him earlier that morning about a hunting ground to the east, where wild beasts were plentiful. He didn't need to think long.
"Tama, Pochi," he called. "Come with me."
Both girls looked at him, surprised.
"Where to, Master?" Pochi asked.
"Hunting."
No further explanation followed. The two quickly grabbed their weapons—still confused—and followed him out of camp.
The forest was calm. Sunlight filtered through the branches, scattering shadows across the ground. Tama walked ahead, sniffing the air; Pochi followed close behind, holding her short sword carefully. Satoru walked last, silent, observing.
For a time, there was only the sound of footsteps over leaves and the murmur of insects. Satoru maintained his steady pace, though his mind wandered far from the hunt.
Silence left room for thought. Since the sealing, his days had been a series of analyses, experiments, and strategies. He had focused on every detail of his magic, the limits of his body, the calculations required to endure. But amid all that, he had neglected another aspect—emotion.
Something useless in combat, yet the only thing that had kept him standing after he fell.
Liza, Hans, the girls… they were his environment now.
He couldn't deny or ignore that. And though logic dictated that distance was safest, he understood that part of his new existence depended on learning to live with them, not just command them.
His thoughts shifted to another point: mana.
Each use was a loss. There was no natural regeneration, and his resources were finite. Casting even a minor spell was, in principle, a waste. It wasn't logical.
But when he saw Tama and Pochi walking nervously ahead—still awkward beneath the weight of his presence—that logic suddenly felt irrelevant.
This time, he let desire replace calculation.
"Come here for a moment," he said.
They turned toward him, curious. Satoru stopped before them, silent for a few seconds, then raised both hands and gently rested them atop their heads. Tama blinked in surprise, Pochi mimicked her expression.
Then, as he withdrew his hands, a faint light shimmered above them. Two soft rabbit ears appeared—upright, fuzzy, twitching lightly in the breeze.
Tama froze, eyes wide as plates.
(・□・;)
Pochi opened her mouth, trying to speak, but only a strangled sound escaped.
(￣▽￣;)
Satoru's face remained perfectly serious.
"This will help us locate the prey," he said, tone utterly matter-of-fact.
Tama lowered her gaze, struggling not to laugh, though her new ears betrayed her, flicking involuntarily.
"U-Understood, Master…"
Pochi pressed her lips together, but a small "pff" escaped before she covered her mouth.
Satoru said nothing. He turned toward the east—the direction their ears pointed—and began walking.
"This way."
The girls followed, shoulders trembling from the effort of holding back their laughter. Yet their steps were light, their earlier fear gone.
Satoru led the way, letting the forest air wash away what remained of his frustration. It was still too soon to say he had recovered from everything that had happened—but he understood that he didn't need to all at once.
Improving little by little would be enough.
Not only in power or knowledge, but in what he had forgotten to learn: human connection.
As they walked, the muffled giggles of Tama and Pochi blended with the sounds of the forest—a quiet melody that marked the beginning of something new.
***
The sound of snapping branches marked the end of the hunt. The forest air smelled of blood and damp earth. Satoru walked ahead with the body of a boar slung effortlessly over his shoulder—a large beast he had felled in a single strike. Behind him, Tama and Pochi followed lightly, each carrying a rabbit. Their faces were streaked with mud, but they smiled with pride.
The return to camp was quiet, yet their expressions said enough. That brief hunt had achieved its purpose. The girls laughed softly, whispering details of their chase as Liza waited for them with towels and water.
"Well done," she said as they arrived.
Tama and Pochi answered in unison, "Yes, ma'am!" before dropping the game near the fire. The sun was descending now, coating the clearing in a golden hue. Liza turned toward Satoru, who laid the boar down with the same calm as ever, showing no sign of fatigue.
"Master, you should clean up as well," she said naturally, kneeling to fill a bucket of water.
"There's no need," he replied. "I don't sweat, and my clothing has cleansing enchantments."
His words cut off as he noticed the dark stains spreading across his sleeve and torso. He looked down at the fabric—the traveling uniform he had received in Seiryuu, devoid of magical protection.
For a moment, he stood still, almost disbelieving. Then he exhaled softly and began unbuttoning the upper half of his clothing.
Liza looked up at that moment. The light of dusk reflected across Satoru's skin as he uncovered his chest—his body firm, defined by battle, the scars of recent wounds crossing his torso. For a brief second, she froze, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn't the first time she had seen him injured, but it was the first time she had seen him like this—calm, human.
The faint flush on her cheeks vanished quickly. She stood, intending to help him, but a movement stopped her. Hans had placed a hand on her shoulder.
Liza turned her head. The ninja met her eyes with the same composure as always, though there was something more there—a silent warning.
"See to the girls," he said quietly, but with unmistakable firmness.
Liza frowned.
"They can manage. My priority is my Master."
The silence between them tightened. Neither looked away. It wasn't defiance, nor hostility—but a clear clash of duty. Two wills, equally resolute, colliding without words.
Satoru, for his part, ignored them completely. He took the bucket, tilted it slightly, and let the cold water flow over his skin. The droplets ran down the scars, glimmering in the firelight.
When he finished, he dressed again with the same calm he had begun. Hans removed his hand from Liza's shoulder, and both returned to their tasks without another word.
The camp regained its steady rhythm, interrupted only by the soft laughter of Tama and Pochi as they bathed a few meters away.
***
The carriage traveled for quite a while longer, leaving the forest behind and entering a region of gentle hills. The sunlight leaned westward, stretching shadows across the road. The group kept pace in silence; only the creak of the wheels and the breathing of the horses could be heard.
Satoru watched the horizon from his seat. Before resuming their journey, he had given Hans a precise order—a mission to confirm a piece of information he already suspected. The ninja absorbed the details without question and vanished into the shadows.
The journey lasted for several hours. The girls dozed against their seats, Liza remained vigilant, and the horses began to tire. When the sun touched the edge of the mountains, Satoru spoke calmly.
"Find a place to camp."
He could have continued traveling without rest, at least for himself—but the others could not.
The warrior nodded and steered the reins. Along the roadside, they found a flat clearing bordered by low trees and a stream that reflected the reddish sky. There they stopped.
The group moved efficiently; within minutes, the fire was lit and the tents raised. Liza prepared the meal, Tama and Pochi cleaned the remaining game, and Satoru stood near the fire, the flames painting his impassive face.
It was some time before Hans returned. He emerged without a sound, stepping out from the darkness as if he had always been there. He bowed slightly to his master.
Satoru lifted his gaze; a single look was enough for the ninja to understand he should speak.
"…I see," was all Satoru said once Hans finished his report.
Hans remained motionless, waiting for further orders, but none came.
The wind whispered through the trees, stirring the flames of the campfire. Liza and the girls, unaware of the conversation, continued preparing dinner. Satoru turned his eyes toward them, his face lit by the orange reflection of the fire.
In the original history, Satou and his companions had arrived at this very village and found some of Mize's comrades—those believed dead. In truth, they had been captured after their battle with Zen's subordinates and sold into slavery. Satou freed them, and afterward, they gave him a set of old papers in gratitude.
However, Satoru couldn't remember whether those were the documents that contained the guide for creating sacred weapons, because in his memory there existed another situation, in another town, where Satou had also come across a bundle of seemingly worthless old papers—papers that, in reality, held the information Satoru was now desperate to find.
That was why he had expected that, somehow, the events might echo the original sequence here.
However…
Hans had brought no confirmation, no locations—only vague accounts.
Signs of battle were visible in the village, and the locals spoke of a recent night attack: ratmen had slipped in silently, killed several guards, and vanished before dawn.
There were no slaves of their kind left in the market.
Satoru said nothing else.
He simply sat down, folded his arms, and remained in silence.
*******
Author's Note:
The world keeps moving!
That's the thought behind this one.
The battle with Mito and Satoru's following days of study have kept him away from everything else happening in the world. After all, this isn't a game—"events" don't wait for him to catch up.
Thank you, as always, for reading.
See you in the next episode.
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