The square by the bar looked like a battlefield that had forgotten to stop shaking.
Bandits lay sprawled in the dirt—some groaning, some completely still—while local men moved between them with rope and grim determination. They worked fast, binding wrists and ankles, stripping blades from numb fingers, kicking weapons out of reach. A few of the villagers carried lanterns even though the morning sun was up, as if they needed the extra light to convince themselves this was real.
Morro paused only long enough to make sure no one was bleeding out.
"Keep them watched," he ordered, voice rough from smoke and pain. "No talking. No heroics. If one of them wakes up, you tie him tighter. If he tries anything—knock him back down."
One of the men, broad-shouldered and pale as chalk, nodded quickly. "We've got them, Sheriff." He swallowed and glanced toward the shattered houses. "We… we won't let them run."
Morro didn't waste breath on reassurance. His ribs burned every time he inhaled, and the ache in his arm still hummed from the beam he had taken into his body. He turned away from the bar and pushed himself toward his house.
Inside, the warmth from earlier was gone. The air smelled of dust and old wood, and the silence felt wrong after the chaos outside. Morro moved to the back room and opened a narrow cabinet built into the wall.
Nested in cloth sat a dark crystal—smooth, heavy, and faintly warm to the touch. A Communication Core.
It wasn't magical in the way villagers imagined when they whispered about The Kensei. It didn't glow on its own or speak to the air. It was simply paired to another Core at Kensei's Windfall Headquarters, waiting for a pulse of Negacion to wake it.
Morro set it on the table and placed two fingers against its surface. He steadied his breath, then pushed a thin stream of energy into it—controlled, precise.
The Core answered.
At first there was only a low vibration, like a distant drum. Then the crystal warmed under his hand, and the air above it shimmered as sound carried across the bond.
"Windfall Headquarters," a woman's voice said, crisp and professional. "Second Kenshi Emily Plater speaking. State your post."
Morro exhaled slowly. "Morro. Third Kenshi. Sheriff of Kukyo Village." He glanced toward the window, where the village square sat half-ruined and still smoking. "We've been attacked by bandits from Vage Desert. I incapacitated six of them. Their commander escaped."
There was a pause—short, but heavy.
"Any civilian casualties?" Emily asked.
"One injured," Morro answered. "Kaiza—an old man. He took a King's Negacion beam." He swallowed and forced himself to keep his voice even. "I stabilized him. He'll live. The rest of the villagers are shaken, but alive."
"And you?" Emily's tone sharpened. "You said you fought their commander. Are you wounded?"
"Nothing critical. I'll recover."
"Understood," Emily said. "Report village condition."
Morro closed his eyes for a moment and pictured the path of the beam—how it had cut through homes like paper. "Several houses destroyed. The bar doors are smashed. People are…" He searched for the right word and found none that didn't sound weak. "They're terrified. We need support. Medical and security."
"Received." Emily's voice stayed steady, but the pace of her words quickened as if she was already counting steps. "Which group from Vage Desert?"
Morro hesitated, then said it anyway. "Raven. He came here himself."
The reaction on the other end wasn't words at first.
Footsteps. A chair scraping. Someone entering the room.
"Did I hear that right?" a new voice cut in—male, familiar, carrying disbelief like a blade. "Morro?"
Morro's fingers tightened against the Core. "…Nico?"
Nicolas Navara had always been like an older brother to Morro, ever since their academy days. "Morro, is that you?" Nicolas's voice warmed instantly, the way it always had—half laughter, half relief. "It's been a while, brother. I leave you alone in a quiet village and you end up trading blows with Raven."
Despite everything, a breath that almost sounded like a laugh escaped Morro. "It's good to hear you too." He paused. "I'm still alive."
"Alive and apparently still stubborn," Nicolas said. "So? Tell me you didn't let him walk away smiling."
Morro's mouth twitched. He shouldn't have been amused, not with blood still drying on his hands, but the sound of Nicolas's voice cut through the weight in his chest. "He wasn't smiling." He allowed himself the smallest hint of pride. "If you could've seen his face when he hit the ground…"
Nicolas barked a laugh. "That's what I wanted to hear."
"Emily," Nicolas continued, voice turning brisk. "I'm going to Kukyo. I want eyes on that village—and I'll speak with Morro in person."
"You can say it now," Emily replied, unimpressed. "If it's important."
"It can wait," Nicolas said. "This is better face-to-face."
Morro heard paper shifting on the other end, the faint scratch of a pen. Emily's professional mask didn't slip, but her next words carried urgency. "Support will arrive within the hour. Morro—confirm the old man is stable."
"He is," Morro said. "Healing Negacion. He's weak, but he'll live." He looked down at his own hands, still scraped raw from absorbing the beam. "My body's already regenerating. It could've been far worse."
"Good," Emily said.
"And Morro," Nicolas added, softer now. "Don't try to be a hero while you wait. Watch the prisoners. Keep the village calm. I'll be there."
Morro nodded even though Nicolas couldn't see it. "I'll keep the Core on me. Call if anything changes."
"We will," Emily said.
The warmth faded. The vibration died. The Communication Core cooled beneath his fingers as the Negacion link went dark.
For a moment Morro just stood there, staring at the stone.
Adrenaline drained out of him all at once, leaving his body hollow and heavy. He let out a slow breath.
I pushed too far.
He pictured the beam again—how close it had come to breaking through his guard, how easily it could have taken him with it.
I don't even realize how close I was.
And beneath that, quieter but undeniable:
Raven was stronger than any bandit had a right to be.
Morro tucked the Core into his coat and stepped back outside.
On the way to Tsunami's house he passed the bound bandits again. One of them—the one whose arm he had dislocated—had been screaming at the villagers a minute earlier. Now he sat hunched, teeth clenched, eyes locked on the ground. The moment he noticed Morro approaching, the anger drained out of him like water from a cracked cup.
"Easy," one of the local men said quickly, as if worried Morro might finish the job. "We'll make sure they don't escape. Weapons are confiscated."
Morro gave a single nod and kept walking.
He forced himself to look at the damage.
Families stood in front of shattered homes, hands pressed to mouths, eyes red. A woman knelt in the rubble and picked through splintered boards as if she could rebuild a life by collecting the right pieces. Somewhere nearby a child sobbed until their voice broke.
It was a miserable sight—one that settled into Morro's chest like cold stone.
Tsunami's house, by some stroke of luck, still stood untouched.
He entered without knocking.
Inside, the air was warmer, carrying the smell of herbs and clean cloth. Kaiza lay on the bed, pale and sweating, each breath shallow but steady. Minari sat close beside him, too quiet for a child—eyes swollen, hands clenched in the blanket.
Tsunami stood near the bedside, her posture calm in the way of someone who had learned to stay functional while everything else collapsed.
Morro stepped closer and set the back of his hand against Kaiza's forehead. The old man was hot.
"Kaiza," Morro said softly. "How do you feel?"
Kaiza's eyes cracked open. Even wounded, even shaking, there was stubbornness there. He shifted his gaze to Minari first, as if confirming the boy was real. "As long as he's alright," the old man rasped, "I'll manage." His voice tightened. "I can't leave him alone."
Minari's lip trembled, but he didn't cry.
Tsunami returned with another blanket—thicker, stuffed with feathers—and draped it over Kaiza with careful hands. "He needs warmth," she murmured.
Then she looked at Morro, steady as a nail driven into wood. "Minari can stay here with me. Don't worry about him."
Morro hesitated, guilt pressing at him from every direction.
Tsunami didn't let him speak. "Just make sure our village stays safe." Her tone wasn't begging. It was simple truth.
Morro's jaw tightened. He bowed his head once. "I promise it will."
Outside, the village was still broken.
But support was coming and something big with it.