CHAPTER 28 — THE LIGHT WE SEEK
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The stone stairs never ended. Or at least, that was how it felt to their exhausted legs, their burning lungs, their nearly broken spirits. Each step they climbed felt like ascending a mountain with no peak—each step carried them higher, but the light they hoped for remained invisible.
Yet something was different. The air. The bone-piercing cold was slowly turning into a refreshing coolness. The smell of damp earth and moss was being replaced by more familiar scents—the aroma of dry leaves, of grass, of the open night. And between the thin gusts of wind rising from below, there were occasional breaths descending from above. Breaths that carried hope.
Amura: (Stopping on one of the wider steps, his breath ragged, his back slightly hunched from the weight of the unknown girl still carried there) "We... we need to rest. Just a moment."
Aetheria: (Behind him, also stopping, her hand still holding Kyoichiiro's arm—not to support, but to make sure he was still there) "I... I agree. My legs feel like they're about to fall off."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer immediately. He stood on the step below Aetheria, one hand against the cold stone wall, the other hanging limply at his side. The purple on his arm had reached his shoulder, and from there spread to his neck, his chest, his stomach. Now, nearly half his body had changed color—not a bright purple like an ordinary bruise, but a deep, dark purple, like the color of the sky before the most violent storm.
He no longer felt pain. That was what worried him most.
Pain was a sign that the body was still alive, still fighting, still resisting. When the pain disappeared, replaced by a cold and empty numbness, it meant the body was beginning to give up. His nerves no longer sent signals to his brain. His muscles no longer responded to commands. He could see his legs moving, but he couldn't feel the ground beneath his soles. He could see his hand against the wall, but he couldn't feel the cold of the stone.
Like walking in a dream, he thought. My body moves, but I'm not really here.
Kyoichiiro: (Finally, his voice soft, slightly hoarse) "Alright. We rest. But not long. This poison..."
He didn't finish his sentence. There was no need.
They sat on the wide steps—Amura on the highest step among them, setting the unknown girl down beside him carefully, leaning her small, pale head against the stone wall. Aetheria sat on the step below Amura, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around her shins, her chin resting on her knees. Kyoichiiro sat on the lowest step, his back to them, his eyes staring downward—into the dark passage they had just traversed, now swallowed by total darkness.
Silence hung between them. Not an awkward silence, but a full one—as if all three were processing everything that had happened, everything they had seen, everything they had felt.
The whispers had stopped. The distant footsteps were no longer audible. Perhaps the hooded figures hadn't followed them here. Perhaps they couldn't. Perhaps the brick passage and this long staircase marked the boundary of their territory. Or perhaps, they were just waiting somewhere, patient as predators who knew that wounded prey would eventually stop running.
Kyoichiiro didn't know. And he was too tired to find out.
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KYOICHIIRO — TREMBLING AND DOUBT
His mind, usually clear and organized like a neat bookshelf, was now in chaos. Fragments of memories and questions scattered in his head, disordered, impossible to reassemble.
That woman.
Who was she? Why had she appeared at the most critical moment? Why could only Kyoichiiro see her? Was she real? Or just a hallucination created by the poison spreading through his body? If she was a hallucination, why had she shown a real path? The left passage was still there. They had gone through it. They had found these stairs. All of it was real.
But why only me?
Kyoichiiro looked down at his own hands. His left hand—still intact, untouched by the poison, but trembling. Trembling violently. Like a leaf shaken by a strong wind, like a twig about to snap, like someone holding back tears but unable to.
He clenched his fist, trying to stop the tremor. It didn't work. He clenched tighter, his fingernails digging into his palm. A small, sharp pain—it helped him focus a little, but the trembling didn't stop.
I'm afraid, he thought, and for the first time, he admitted it to himself. I'm truly afraid. Not because of the poison. Not because of death. But because... I don't know anything. I don't know who she is. I don't know why she helped me. I don't know if this is part of a larger plan, or just... luck.
He bit his lower lip. Blood—a little, warm—filled his mouth.
This world is too big for me. Too strange. Too unreasonable. Monsters, magic, reincarnation, the multiverse, and now... a mysterious woman only I could see. What next? What awaits me at the end of all this?
He remembered the voice beyond the iron gate. The voice that had said if he went deeper, he might not be able to return. Was this what it meant? Was this the meaning of not being able to return? Not physically, but mentally? Had he already lost something? Had he already become someone who could no longer distinguish between reality and hallucination?
His left hand trembled more violently.
Aetheria, he thought, glancing back briefly. The girl was sitting with her eyes closed, perhaps resting, perhaps praying. Her face was pale, her long blonde hair tangled and dirty, her simple dress now covered in stains of earth and blood. She trusted him. She came because he asked her to. She nearly died because of him.
He looked at Amura. The red-haired boy was sitting beside the unknown girl, checking her pulse with two fingers on her neck. His face was serious—no longer smiling, no longer joking. There was a furrow in his brow, a worry he couldn't hide.
Amura trusted me too. He followed me here because he thought I knew what I was doing. But I didn't. I never knew.
Kyoichiiro looked down again, at his still-trembling hand. And between those tremors, he saw something.
Light. Very faint, but not dark. Like a star rising on the eastern horizon before dawn. That light came from below—from the lower steps, from the passage they had left behind.
Or perhaps... from within himself?
He could no longer tell.
That woman, he thought, and for a moment, the white shadow reappeared in his mind. Long, flowing hair, a simple clean dress, a smile he couldn't see but could feel. Who are you? Why did you choose me? Why did you help me? What is your connection to me?
No answer. Only silence, only trembling, only darkness below and light not yet visible above.
Amura: (From behind, his voice soft, almost a whisper, but clear in the silence of the stone stairs) "Kyoichiiro-san."
Kyoichiiro flinched. He hadn't realized that Amura had stood and was approaching him.
Amura: (Sitting on the step beside Kyoichiiro, not too close but close enough to speak without shouting) "Are you... alright?"
The question sounded ridiculous. Clearly, he was not alright. But Kyoichiiro understood what Amura meant. Not asking about his physical condition—because that was obvious. But asking about his state of mind. His spirit.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice flat, but with a note of exhaustion he couldn't hide) "I don't know."
Honest. Unusual for him. Normally he would say "I'm fine" or "it's nothing" or "don't worry." But this time, he couldn't. Because that would be a lie. And he was too tired to lie.
Amura: (Silent for a moment, then sighing) "I don't know either. Whether I'm alright. Whether we'll survive. Whether any of this... means anything."
He looked up at the stairs still stretching long, at the darkness beginning to turn to grey in the distance.
Amura: "But I do know one thing."
Kyoichiiro: (Turning slightly) "What?"
Amura: (Smiling—not his usual wide smile, but a small, almost invisible one) "I'm glad I'm not alone."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He just looked at Amura briefly, then back at his still-trembling hand.
The tremor was beginning to subside. Slowly. Not stopping all at once, but beginning to ease. Like a storm that had passed its peak and was now moving away.
I'm not alone, he thought. Aetheria. Amura. And perhaps... that woman too, even though I don't know who she is.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cold, refreshing air. The poison was still in his body. The purple was still spreading. The pain might return at any moment. But for now, he was still breathing. Still alive. Still able to walk.
Aetheria: (From behind, her voice still weak but no longer trembling) "Kyoichiiro-san... Amura-san... look."
She pointed upward.
Kyoichiiro and Amura looked.
At the top of the stairs—still far, but not as far as before—there was light. Not the greenish light from underground, not the purple light from the barrier wall, but a warm, yellowish-white light. Soft. Gentle. Like morning sunlight streaming through a bedroom window.
Amura: (Eyes widening) "That's... that's sunlight."
Aetheria: (Her voice trembling—not from fear, but from hope) "We're... we're almost there."
Kyoichiiro stood. His legs were still numb, but he didn't care. He didn't need to feel the ground to walk. He only needed to look ahead, upward, toward the light growing brighter.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice firm, though still hoarse) "Let's go. Let's finish this."
They stood. Amura carried the unknown girl again—her light body feeling weightless on his back. Aetheria stood beside Kyoichiiro, her hand returning to his arm, but this time not so tightly. Perhaps because she was slightly calmer. Or perhaps because she was too tired to grip tightly.
Kyoichiiro stepped. One step. Two steps. Three steps.
The stone stairs no longer felt endless. Now, they had a destination. And that destination shone above them, warm and gentle, like a long-awaited embrace.
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TOWARD THE LIGHT
The higher they climbed, the brighter the light became. And the brighter the light, the more they could see.
The brick walls, once only dark and damp, now began to reveal their details. The stones were not uniform—some darker, some lighter, some covered in carvings worn smooth by time. Those carvings could no longer be read, but Kyoichiiro could feel that they had once held meaning. Perhaps stories. Perhaps warnings. Perhaps prayers.
In several places, tree roots pierced through the walls—small at first, but growing larger as they climbed. Some roots were as thick as Kyoichiiro's arm, dangling from the ceiling like petrified giant serpents. But none moved. None threatened. Only old, dead—or perhaps merely sleeping—roots, silent witnesses to their journey.
Aetheria: (Whispering, her eyes examining those roots) "These roots... are very old. Perhaps hundreds of years."
Amura: "Or more. But what matters is that they penetrate upward. That means above there is soil. There are trees. There is... the surface."
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He kept walking, his eyes fixed on the growing light. He didn't want to stop again. Didn't want to rest again. Because every second he spent on these stairs was a second the poison continued to spread, a second he grew weaker, a second their hope grew thinner.
But his body was not as strong as his resolve.
After about twenty steps—or perhaps thirty—his legs began to feel like they were made of lead. Not just numb, but heavy. Very heavy. As if something was pulling his feet downward, holding him back from going further.
Kyoichiiro: (Stopping, his breath ragged) "Wait..."
Aetheria: (Immediately worried) "Kyoichiiro-san—"
Kyoichiiro: (Raising a hand, cutting her off) "Just... just need to catch my breath."
He bent over, both hands on his knees, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The purple poison in his body had now reached his neck. He could feel it—not pain, but pressure. Like someone sitting on his chest, pressing down on his lungs, making every breath a struggle.
Don't stop, he thought. If you stop now, you won't be able to get up again.
He forced himself to stand straight.
Kyoichiiro: "Let's go."
He stepped again. One. Two. Three.
Behind him, Aetheria bit her lip, holding back tears that nearly fell. She could see how much Kyoichiiro was suffering. How hard he was pushing himself. How unwilling he was to show his weakness, even though it was clear to everyone that he was dying.
Please, Aetheria thought, to someone, anyone. Please save him.
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THE LIGHT
And finally, after climbing more steps than they could count, after passing more old roots and worn brick walls, after enduring more exhaustion and despair—
They arrived.
The stairs ended. Not with a door, not with a gate, but with a hole. A hole in the stone ceiling, not very large—perhaps just big enough for an adult to crawl through. And through that hole, light poured in. Sunlight. Real light.
Amura: (Standing beneath the hole, looking up, his eyes shining) "We... we made it."
Aetheria: (Nearly crying) "We can get out."
Kyoichiiro said nothing. He just stared at that hole, at the light streaming in, at the blue sky beyond—a blue sky he hadn't seen for hours. And for the first time since that arrow had embedded itself in his arm, he felt something other than pain and numbness.
Relief.
Amura: (Setting the unknown girl down carefully, then beginning to climb) "I'll check first. Make sure there's no danger above."
He climbed easily—his small, agile body helping him reach the hole in seconds. Kyoichiiro heard the rustle of leaves, footsteps on soil, then Amura's voice from above.
Amura: (From above, his voice slightly muffled but clear) "All clear! No one's here. We're in the forest—the same forest, but on the other side of the hill. I can see a path from here. Maybe half an hour to town."
Aetheria: (Turning to Kyoichiiro) "You go first, Kyoichiiro-san. I'll follow with this girl."
Kyoichiiro: (Shaking his head) "No. You go first. I'll help you lift her from below."
Aetheria: (Hesitant) "But—"
Kyoichiiro: "I can't climb with my injured right arm. I need time. So you go first. Help Amura lift this girl."
Aetheria bit her lip, holding back the protest she wanted to voice. But she knew Kyoichiiro was right. He couldn't climb with his paralyzed right hand. And he couldn't carry the girl while climbing.
Aetheria: (Nodding, her eyes glistening) "Alright. But... you promise you'll follow? You won't stay down here forever?"
Kyoichiiro: (Flat) "I promise."
Aetheria climbed. Her small, light body helped her ascend quickly, even though she was slightly awkward in her long dress. Amura helped from above, pulling her hand until she stood on the surface.
Then, it was the unknown girl's turn. Kyoichiiro lifted that small, light body as high as he could—his hands trembling, the poison still spreading, but he didn't care. Amura reached down from above, pulling slowly, and within moments, the girl was on the surface, lying on green grass under the afternoon sunlight.
Amura: (From above) "Kyoichiiro-san, your turn."
Kyoichiiro stared at the hole. It was about two meters above the ground where he stood. Normally, he could jump that easily. But now... he wasn't sure.
He took a deep breath. Then, with whatever strength he had left, he jumped.
His left hand caught the edge of the hole—and he nearly fell. His right hand couldn't help. He was hanging by one arm, and that arm was beginning to tremble under his body weight.
Amura: (Quickly grabbing Kyoichiiro's left wrist) "I've got you! Aetheria, help!"
Aetheria: (Grabbing Kyoichiiro's right arm—carefully, knowing it was the injured one—and pulling)
Together, they pulled Kyoichiiro up. He collapsed onto the grass, his chest heaving, his eyes closed—not unconscious, but too tired to open them.
The grass beneath him felt soft. The air around him felt fresh. And the afternoon sunlight filtering through the leaves felt warm on his cold skin.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, without opening his eyes) "We... made it."
Aetheria: (Crying—not loud sobs, but tears flowing gently down her cheeks) "Yes. We made it."
Amura: (Sitting beside them, exhaling a long breath—a breath that felt like releasing years of burden) "We made it."
They lay on the grass, beneath tall trees that shaded them, beneath an afternoon sky beginning to turn golden-orange. Birds sang in the distance—a sound they hadn't heard since morning, a sound that felt like music after so long hearing only whispers and dripping water.
Kyoichiiro opened his eyes. He looked at the sky—a clean blue sky, with thin white clouds moving slowly. And through the gaps in the leaves, he saw the first stars beginning to appear on the eastern horizon.
We survived, he thought. Somehow... we survived.
He looked to the side. Aetheria was still crying softly, but her face was no longer pale—there was a pink flush in her cheeks, a sign that blood was flowing normally again. Amura sat with his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes closed, his face calm—perhaps praying, perhaps just grateful.
And the unknown girl still lay beside them, unconscious, but her chest rose and fell—slowly, but steadily. Still alive.
Kyoichiiro closed his eyes again.
The poison was still in his body. The purple was still spreading—now reaching his jaw. He could taste it on his tongue—a bitter taste he couldn't describe. But for now, he didn't care.
We survived, he thought once more. And as long as we're alive... there's still hope.
In the distance, beyond the hill, the town lights began to flicker on, one by one, like stars fallen to earth. And above them, in the darkening sky, real stars began to shine, never caring what happened down below.
They still had to walk to town. Still had to find an inn. Still had to tend to their wounds. Still had to heal Kyoichiiro from the poison threatening his life. There was still much to do.
But for now, they simply lay on the grass, listening to the wind, and gave thanks that they could still hear the birds and see the colors of the sky.
That was enough.