Rain drizzled beneath the heavy clouds. The massive flames had died down, but thick smoke still rose, stinging the eyes. A once-vibrant green meadow was now nothing but ashes, the acrid scent of burning covering everything. The most anticipated festival of the year had ended in tragedy. An entire river had evaporated, the livestock once grazing freely outside the village now reduced to charred corpses—if even that much remained.
Shinato sat up, staring at the sight before him, his nose overwhelmed by the stench of burning. He gagged, retching at the smell of scorched grass and flesh. Tears welled up, not only from the smoke but from the shock of the battle that had just occurred. Yet above all else, he was terrified of the scent that reached him. The worst possibility flashed before his mind—something may have happened to Elista. Forcing away those vile thoughts, he staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the rice storehouses, now nothing but blackened husks.
"Elista… Elis…" Shinato gasped and sobbed with each breath. His cries echoed through the fields, but only silence, heavy with death, answered him—silence that drove him to the edge of madness.
Ahead, Ortis had not stopped searching. He clawed with his bare hands through piles of ashes, tears spilling down his weathered face and dripping onto the scorched ground. He dared not dwell on the worst outcome, yet his heart already knew. Each time his chest tightened, he pounded his fist hard against it as though to force himself to endure.
The villagers, as if waking from a dream, began stumbling forward to help. Adventurers whose comrades had fallen here tore through the wreckage, desperation fueling them—because even the faintest chance of survival was something they could not abandon.
A wide-scale search spread everywhere. Shinato hobbled along the path, hollow-eyed, like a man already half-dead. Each time a group pulled a body from the rubble, he shoved his way in like a madman, eyes wide with despair. A charred corpse lay beside a fragment of enchanted cloth—a mage. Relief washed over Shinato like he had climbed out of hell itself. Heart racing, he rushed onward to search other places.
"I found one! I found another one!"
"My god, she's so young!"
Both Ortis and Shinato turned sharply toward the cries. Neither spoke; both walked slowly, step by trembling step, toward the dried-up stream. Their legs shook, their lips quivered, each breath labored. They bit their lips, dreading the moment they would find Elista's body lying abandoned.
Shinato reached first, eyes wide, pupils trembling with fear. The woman's lower body was reduced to ash, yet her upper half was preserved, perhaps by the water that had once filled the stream.
Heaven and hell were but a breath apart. Shinato nearly collapsed with relief when he realized the woman before him was not Elista—it was the mage woman whose regretful eyes had met his only recently. Her eyes were closed, her lips curved in a peaceful smile, as though free of all regret.
Behind, Ortis fell to the ground, clutching his chest as though to hold his heart together. The mage's comrades soon arrived, their grief raw and piercing. A handsome blond-haired man, eyes wide with disbelief, rushed forward. He shook the girl's shoulders, voice breaking as he cried:
"Atica! Hey, you're just sleeping, right? Stop joking with me! The wedding—you said you always dreamed of being Sleeping Beauty, waiting for your prince's kiss before he knelt and asked for your hand. Atica, I've kissed you already! So why won't you wake up and look at me?"
The sound of weeping filled the fields. The plain was a landscape of mourning. This was hell itself—every soul who entered it was enduring the agony of the deepest eighteen layers of the underworld.
Shinato had no time to waste. He realized that the blond-haired man could easily become him—if he didn't move now. Regaining his senses, he pulled out the tracking device he had brought with him, prepared to use it should he and Elista be separated in the crowd. He had taken a strand of her hair to ensure precision. But in his panic, with his heart hanging by a thread, he had forgotten this tool.
The device, however, could only scan within ten meters at a time. Worse still, if the target no longer lived, it could not detect them at all. With each completed scan cycle, Shinato's heart clenched tighter. Compared to the others, it seemed Elista had been flung much farther away—or worse.
Just as his breath began to falter, the device beeped. Not far from here, beneath the great tree where they had once sat watching lanterns, Elista rested against its trunk, eyes closed as if peacefully asleep.
Shinato nearly went mad with joy. She was alive, her body seemingly unharmed.
Ortis, too, noticed Shinato's sudden sprint and wasted no time. He dashed toward the sight of a girl with radiant red hair fluttering in the breeze.
They arrived together, collapsing to their knees with relief as they saw the beautiful princess breathing lightly. Elista stirred slightly in her sleep, shifting as though uncomfortable.
Shinato said nothing, only smiled faintly. Sitting beside her, he offered his shoulder as a pillow, his hollow eyes staring off into the distance.
Ortis, realizing his daughter was safe, burst into booming laughter—before collapsing unconscious from blood loss. His eyes fluttered shut, lost in pain that seeped through his entire being.
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Shinato awoke from a deep sleep. He had lost consciousness the moment he realized Elista was resting peacefully. Now, as he sat up, his body slumped forward as though ready to fall back into another slumber.
"You're awake, child? Take it slowly, don't force yourself up just yet."
The gentle voice beside him startled Shinato. That soft, nurturing tone could belong to only one person—Lady Anna, wife of the demigod Ortis.
"Other than your lungs being full of ash, your worst injury is your right shoulder. It was knocked so far back it looked as though your arm might be torn off."
"My lady… could you not say such horrifying things in such a sweet tone? It makes me shiver more than it eases me."
"Oh, did I scare you? I'm sorry." Anna gave an embarrassed smile. "My husband says the same thing—that I talk about dreadful matters with such a calm voice. Honestly, I never quite understood what he meant. Maybe I should practice sounding harsher." She covered her face, flustered.
Ignoring the woman before him, Shinato glanced around the infirmary. Elista was sleeping soundly on the bed beside his, mumbling endlessly about bread and strawberries, turning over every minute as if she were dreaming of eating.
Across the room, old Ortis was struggling to get a slice of apple into his mouth. Both his hands were wrapped tightly in bandages, his back twinging with pain each time it brushed against the bedframe. With his arms nearly useless, he fumbled awkwardly with the small plate, trying again and again to bite the apple, only to fail.
Yet despite these almost comical sights, the air in the room was unbearably heavy. Quiet sobs seeped into every corner, and on other beds lay unrecognizable bodies. Nine mages had gone into battle—and all nine had perished. With the creature's impact so close, it was little wonder. Its flames must have been terrifying beyond imagination to reduce them to such a state.
"They knew from the beginning," Anna said softly, watching Shinato's troubled expression. "You could see it in their eyes. But when the creature struck, there was still a glimmer of hope—that perhaps they might be saved. I truly wished it were so."
Anna smiled gently at Shinato's confession. To her, this boy was kind-hearted, compassionate. She turned to her daughter, brushing a lock of hair that had been singed, gazing long at the sleeping girl.
"This child of mine… still just like a little girl. And yet she has someone so good by her side…"
Suddenly the infirmary door burst open. A red-haired boy, eyes sparkling with tears, rushed in. He flung his arms around his sister, wailing:
"Mother! Sister's dead, sister's dead!"
"Arthur, she's only asleep," Anna said gently.
"But I pulled her hair and she wouldn't wake up! Normally she'd have smacked me by now!"
"Arthur!" Ortis's voice rang out, unusually stern.
"Yes, Father…" Arthur shrank back, chastened, falling silent at once.
"Feed me that apple. I can't manage it myself."
"Yes, Father!"
Shinato and Anna exchanged glances and broke into laughter. The rest of the room followed—since Arthur's arrival, the heavy air had lightened. The boy's innocent presence brought warmth to everyone, reminding them that even amidst loss, life still shone through.
The harvest festival had not even passed a full day before the funeral began. The brave souls who had fallen were honored by all. Each mourner carried a lantern to guide the heroes' spirits to the afterlife.
From that day on, the harvest festival was forever joined with this memorial rite—to celebrate life, but also to honor the fallen.
The night sky once again blazed with light.
Investigations began at once. In a single night, mysteries had piled into a mountain. What was that creature that so resembled a phoenix? What was the barrier Shinato created, and the terrifying power it contained? And most important of all—Elista, who had absorbed the phoenix's power—what had she truly become?
For six days Shinato had been locked up and interrogated. He was fed only bread and strawberry jam—ironically, Elista's favorite food, not his.
Glancing at the meal, Shinato smiled faintly, thinking how Elista would have considered this place paradise.
The door swung open again. In strode Raguac, chief of Mill Grace's police force—an orc, grotesque in form but sharper than most of his kind. His oversized trench coat strained at its seams, and a pair of lensless spectacles perched on his face purely for effect.
He stopped before the table, inspecting Shinato, then the food. Yes—this boy had enough strength left for another long session.
"Well then, Kumazi, shall we continue?" Raguac pushed up his glasses.
"I've told you everything already, haven't I?"
"History records show that scientists like you have come here six or seven times before. And each visit lasted no more than a week. Yet you have stayed far longer. Care to explain?"
"I came here to study the mysterious light's energy. We all want to know whether this so-called blessing of the gods is harmless. Our survival depends on it."
"Then how do you explain the barrier? The one that enclosed the entire village. That looked less like research—and more like preparation."
"I studied its properties and found that this energy compresses and absorbs in unique ways. That's what enabled me to create countless inventions from even the smallest fragments." Shinato hesitated, debating whether to speak further. Finally, he admitted:
"But that barrier… I didn't create it. It's been here since my first visit. I've explored everywhere—even the green goblins' forest. The shield was always there, like part of the land itself."
"So you're saying others made it before you?"
"I don't believe so. Our mission is activation, not creation. We're ordered to trigger it only when the land nears destruction."
"Ordered by whom?"
"By prophecy. A prophecy passed to us scientists."
"A prophecy?"
"When light and shadow clash, all life shall be erased. One button, one land saved. Activate, and it endures."
"…I don't understand a word you're saying."
"Neither do I. But I think it's tied to that shield I triggered."
"That's enough for today. Thank you for cooperating. After reviewing your statements, you'll be released tomorrow."
"And Elista…?"
"She'll be released soon as well. Don't worry."
Raguac left, mind buzzing with questions. Something in Shinato's words tied directly to Elista—and to that mysterious prophecy. Retreating to his office, he replayed the earlier interrogation with her.
"You are Elista Garnet, correct?"
"Yes."
"Witnesses, myself included, saw you throw yourself into the battle, protecting something. Is that true?"
"A little girl. Red-haired, four or five years old. She tripped there."
"According to my investigation, no red-haired child was present. Nor was any reported missing. Are you certain it wasn't an illusion?"
"I held her. Tightly. She even spoke to me."
"What did she say?"
'You did it. I finally found you.' That's what she said."
"And nothing else?"
"She asked me to take her far away. She said this place wasn't safe for me anymore—that I had to run."
"Anything else, Miss Garnet?"
"That's all. After that, I was blown back and woke up in the infirmary. I still don't know if she's safe."
"From what I know, what you saved may not exist. Or at least—it exists only to you. A dead end, this matter."
"Yes…"
"Well then, thank you for cooperating. You and your companion may leave tomorrow."
"Yes, sir. Is he well?"
"Other than whining about bread and jam, yes—quite well."
The recording ended. Both Shinato and Elista had offered truths—but cut off truths. Raguac's frustration grew. He wasn't wrong to question them, but these fragments led nowhere. The missing pieces might lie with Ortis, but the demigod remained unyielding, no matter the trick.
Alone in his chamber, Raguac's chest tightened with unease. Some instinct urged him to unravel this before something worse struck Mill Grace.
Ortis rocked gently in his chair, brow furrowed. Ashborn—one of Kaguen's three great infernal beasts—had appeared, leaving devastation in its wake.
Ashborn, true to its name, was born of ash, spreading its fiery wrath across the land. The harvest festival, with its rituals, had been a perfect occasion for such a summoning. So why had it only now appeared? Was it mere coincidence?
Frowning, Ortis searched his predecessors' records. Across sixteen generations of Flame Demigods, only once had such a calamity occurred. In the twelfth chapter of the sixth generation, the hell-serpent Hihebi had emerged, ravaging everything. The summoning ritual had been tied to the harvest festival, but in a different form: torches lit all at once across the village. In prior generations, nothing happened. But in the sixth, tragedy struck—thousands dead, the demigod slain. Only through aid from other demigods was the beast defeated. Its colossal body remained, coiled into a mountain. From its remains, Mill Grace had been built, enduring through the ages.
Now, in the seventeenth generation, Ortis had survived a similar calamity. Fortune alone had spared them—heroes, and his children, had prevented disaster.
Ashborn had vanished into cinders, but its scars remained. And the question loomed: what had reawakened these mythic beasts? And when would Karyuken, the Chain Hound, appear?
Closing the records, Ortis resolved on one thing—he must prepare his successor before the next disaster struck.