The carriage had been moving for a few minutes, which, in panic time, felt like at least three hours and one emotional breakdown.
Inside, Kushino stretched like he'd just finished a nice walk instead of, you know, helping wreck an entire palace. He peeked out the window, then leaned back with a satisfied grin.
"Masked one's gonna love this," he said. "Seriously, the defense in this town's a total joke."
The door creaked open before anyone could respond, and Crimson stepped in like he'd just come back from buying groceries instead of defeating an army. No expression. No dramatic entrance. Just… Crimson.
"We're done here," he said, shutting the door behind him without even glancing back.
No "good job." No "that was fun." Just done.
Creepy? Yes. Effective? Also yes.
The carriage started moving again, picking up speed as the horses pounded the ground harder, faster,
, which is exactly when Kiseki decided this was a great time to do something incredibly risky and probably stupid.
He clung to the back of the carriage like a guy who absolutely did not think this through. One foot on the lower rail, one hand gripping the top, his face set in that determined expression people get right before things go terribly wrong.
Wind rushed past him. The wheels rattled. His arms screamed.
But hey, he was still alive.
So far.
The moment the carriage slowed even a little, Kiseki didn't hesitate. He shifted his weight, found the weird oval window at the back, seriously, who designs these things?, and pulled himself up.
"Okay… okay… don't fall… don't fall…"
He climbed through.
Barely.
And landed inside the cargo section with all the grace of a falling bookshelf.
Mendo looked up.
"Weapon boy?"
Kiseki froze.
"It's Kiseki," he snapped automatically, because apparently that was still the priority. Then he shook his head. "You know what? Doesn't matter. We need to go. Now."
He pointed at the window.
Then looked back at Mendo.
Who wasn't moving.
Mendo raised a finger like he was about to ask the most important question in history.
"…You mean we've gotta escape?"
Kiseki shut his eyes.
Not calmly. Not peacefully.
The kind of eye-shut where you're trying to block out reality itself.
He took a slow breath, opened them again, and leaned in, whispering harshly.
"Yes, Mendo. That's exactly what I mean. Escape. From the bad men. Quietly. So they don't hear us and ruin everything. Let's go."
Mendo nodded like this was all perfectly reasonable.
Kiseki turned back to the window and planted his hands together, making a step.
Mendo didn't even question it. He'd done this before.
He stepped onto Kiseki's palms, jumped,
, and Kiseki launched him upward.
Mendo slipped through the window just as the carriage kept speeding forward.
For one terrifying second, it looked like he might get dragged or slammed or turned into a human pancake
But somehow, by pure luck or physics being in a good mood, his momentum matched the carriage. He hit the ground running, stumbled, then landed in a roll that looked painful but not hospital-level painful.
Kiseki allowed himself half a second of relief.
Then it was his turn.
He grabbed the edge of the window and pulled himself up.
The carriage jolted.
His grip slipped.
He fell.
Right onto a pile of chests.
Hard.
"Ghh !"
That kind of pain doesn't come with words. Just… noise.
He tried again.
Climbed.
Slipped.
Fell.
Again.
At this point, the universe was clearly laughing.
"Are you serious?!" he whispered through clenched teeth.
Third try.
He got higher,
The carriage rocked again,
Down he went.
This time, he just lay there for a second, staring at the ceiling like he was reconsidering every decision that led him here.
Then,
The carriage slowed.
Kiseki's eyes snapped open.
"Nope. Not wasting this."
He grabbed the window like it personally owed him money, pulled himself up with everything he had, and finally, finally, dragged himself out.
He clung to the back rails for a split second.
Then dropped.
The ground hit him hard, but he rolled with it, stumbling to a stop just as the carriage slowed to a complete halt near the town gates.
He ducked behind a nearby house, heart pounding.
The carriage door opened.
Crimson stepped out.
Kiseki held his breath.
Crimson walked to the back of the carriage.
Looked.
Paused.
Kiseki didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't exist.
From inside, Kushino called, "What's wrong?"
A moment passed.
Then Crimson turned and stepped back in.
"I had to confirm something," he said flatly. "I was wrong."
The door shut.
Kiseki exhaled, very slowly.
The gates opened.
The carriage rolled forward again, disappearing out of town.
And Kiseki stayed where he was, pressed against the wall, watching it go.
Because he knew,
If he'd been even a second slower…
He wouldn't be standing there at all.
Kiseki let out a breath like he'd just survived something terrible, like a math test. He turned around, already relaxing, already thinking, Wow, maybe today won't be a complete disaster—
—and almost jumped out of his skin.
Mendo was right behind him.
Not just standing there. Looming. Like he'd been hiding in Kiseki's shadow the entire time, which honestly wouldn't have been surprising at this point.
"Dude," Kiseki muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. "You trying to kill me?"
Mendo just grinned. No apology. Of course not.
"Well," Kiseki said, glancing toward the town gate. No carriage. No chaos. No anything, really. Just empty road and a suspicious lack of problems. "I guess that's over."
He stepped fully out of his hiding spot, stretching a little like he hadn't just been crouched in fear five seconds ago. Then he looked down at Mendo with his usual serious expression, the one that said I've already had enough of today and it's not even over yet.
"Seems we won," Kiseki said. "Wanna head back to the palace?"
Mendo lit up instantly. "Yeah, yeah!"
They started walking like two guys who definitely didn't almost get ambushed earlier. Mendo glanced up at him after a few steps, already scheming.
"And then we can play boards?"
"No."
The answer came way too fast. Like Kiseki had been waiting for it. Like this was a daily battle and he refused to lose.
"Okay," Mendo said, completely unbothered.
He immediately forgot about the boards, which was honestly impressive. Now he was just thinking about the palace. Food. People. Not dying. You know, priorities.
If things had gone even slightly differently, maybe their luck would've held.
But of course, it didn't.
Because somewhere else on that same road, because of course there's always a "somewhere else", Kushino spotted Delilah.
And yeah, if you've never met Delilah, let me just say, you don't want to.
The red carriage rolled to a smooth stop like it had all the time in the world. Which was weird, considering it had just been charging across the land like it was late for something important. Dust settled. Silence followed.
And there she was.
Delilah stood like she owned the road, the sky, and probably everyone's bad decisions too.
Around her? A group of guys who all looked like they'd been carved out of stone by someone with a very specific taste. Same outfits. Same build. Same "don't even think about it" energy.
She called them her "Handsomes."
Yeah. I wish I was joking.
Apparently, she handpicked every single one. And not in a normal way. More like, she'd look at a guy, decide she liked what she saw, and then something would… change.
Her expression would soften, but not in a comforting way. More like a trap snapping shut.
Her eyes. They'd go from this sharp, glowing pink-white thing that made you feel judged down to your soul… to glowing red, heart-shaped irises that somehow felt worse.
Because that's when people stopped being people.
They became hers.
No one really understood how it worked. Not even the cult, sorry, "family," as they insisted on calling it. But once you saw her like that? That was it. Game over.
And now she was here. Heading toward Ganja Town. Checking on Kushino and Crimson like this was just another normal day.
"Hope you got the blue-eyed boy who hangs around the palace," she said casually, like she was asking about groceries.
The carriage door creaked open.
"Take a chill, would ya?" Kushino called from inside.
He stepped out slowly, like he had zero concerns, which either meant he was confident… or completely insane.
Probably both.
He folded his arms and jerked his thumb toward the back of the carriage.
"He's in the back."
Delilah didn't even bother raising her voice. She just made this tiny flicking motion with her fingers, like she was bored, and two of her Handsomes immediately moved to the back of the carriage.
Honestly, watching them was weirdly impressive. One boosted the other up like they'd practiced this exact move a hundred times. The second guy grabbed onto this oval-shaped window at the back and peeked inside.
Pause.
Longer pause.
Then he dropped down.
The two of them exchanged a look, and the one on the ground gave a small shake of his head.
No kid.
Just chests.
Which, okay, sounds suspicious already. Because if you're expecting a kidnapped boy and instead you find a bunch of treasure chests? That's never a good sign. That's like opening your fridge for food and finding… more smaller fridges.
Delilah slowly turned back to Kushino.
And when I say "looked down on him," I don't mean physically, because yeah, he was taller. I mean spiritually. Emotionally. Universally. She was looking at him like he had personally offended the concept of existence.
"The child escaped…" she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Or you chose gold and left him behind."
Her eyes locked onto him like she was about to melt him where he stood.
Which, for most people? Would've worked.
Kushino?
Didn't even flinch.
He casually glanced past her, like she was background noise, and looked toward the carriage. Crimson was still inside, sitting in the passenger seat like none of this had anything to do with him.
"The kid was too small to jump out at that speed," Kushino said. Calm. Way too calm. "We might be dealing with a bigger enemy."
Then he looked back at Delilah like he was asking her to pass the salt.
"Take care of the town for me," he added, "or bring the boy back. Either works."
Yeah.
That… did not help.
Delilah's irritation cranked up instantly. Like someone had just poured oil on a fire.
"Who are you talking to?" she snapped. "You can't talk to me like that!"
Now, here's the thing.
Kushino wasn't actually trying to start a fight.
He was trying to avoid one.
Specifically, he didn't want Crimson hearing too much of this. Because Crimson was still a kid, which, in their world, apparently meant "old enough for danger but not old enough for certain kinds of danger."
And if there really was someone out there strong enough to snatch a boy from a moving carriage?
Yeah. That wasn't a small problem.
That was a very bad day waiting to happen.
But Delilah?
Not exactly the quiet, reasonable type.
"I don't owe you anything," she continued, louder now. "Throwing orders around like you own me. Who do you think you are?"
Meanwhile, Kushino looked like a guy doing intense mental math.
You could almost see it happening.
Option one: gag her.
Nope. She'd get it off.
Option two: throw her in a lake.
Tempting. Still nope. She'd come back.
Option three: knock her out.
Also tempting. Definitely wouldn't last.
Every possible solution ended the same way:
Delilah… still talking.
It was honestly kind of impressive.
And then,
The carriage door opened.
Crimson stepped out.
Now, if you were expecting some dramatic, emotional entrance? Nope.
He looked completely blank. No anger. No fear. No anything, really. Just… there.
"I apologize," he said. Flat. Calm. Like he was reporting the weather. "I let go of the boy due to my carelessness. Because of me, you both are arguing."
Kushino blinked.
Arguing? he thought. This is arguing?
Crimson continued, not waiting for approval or permission or literally anything.
"If you won't return to the town," he said, "then let me."
Yeah.
That was a thirteen-year-old volunteering to walk straight into a situation that already sounded like a trap.
Great decision-making all around.
Delilah cut in immediately.
"Sit back down, Crimson," she said, like she hadn't just been yelling a second ago. "I didn't say I wasn't going."
Just like that, switch flipped.
She moved toward one of her Handsomes, who crouched slightly. Two others locked hands to form a kind of living foothold, and she stepped up onto it effortlessly.
It was like watching someone mount a horse.
If the horse was three extremely serious-looking guys who probably hadn't smiled in years.
She leaned forward slightly, resting her weight as they adjusted beneath her.
"As you can see," she said, with a hint of smugness, "we're already headed that way."
Then she waved her hand dismissively at Crimson.
"You two go home. Tell Father I handled the rest."
Kushino rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck.
"Alright, kid," he said. "You heard her. Let's beat it."
Crimson didn't argue. Didn't nod. Didn't react at all.
He just turned, got back into the carriage, and sat down like none of this mattered.
Kushino followed, shutting the door behind him.
And just like that, both sides split.
Delilah and her Handsomes moved toward Ganja Town, fast, controlled, and honestly kind of intimidating.
The red carriage started rolling the opposite direction, heading back to their so-called "family home."
And Delilah?
She wasn't smiling anymore.
Her expression had gone tight. Focused.
Almost… anxious.
Which, coming from her?
Yeah.
That was probably the worst sign of all.
Meanwhile, back at Ganja Town, because of course nothing ever happens in just one place at a time, the palace courtyard looked like the world's worst team meeting.
All the soldiers were lined up outside, stiff as statues, trying very hard not to look like guys who had just gotten completely wrecked.
At the front stood Stephane.
Now, if you've never met Stephane, imagine the kind of person who could make you feel guilty just by breathing near you. That was him on a normal day. Today? Yeah… multiply that by about ten.
"Well, men," he said, pacing slowly in front of them, hands behind his back like he was about to inspect their souls. "We survived this attack."
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
Honestly, I'm pretty sure one guy forgot how to blink.
"It was not a small attack," Stephane continued, his voice calm, but the kind of calm that usually comes right before something explodes. "Though we were unprepared for two things…"
He stopped walking.
Turned.
And scanned the line like a tiger deciding which deer looked the most nervous.
"You," he said, pointing at one soldier.
The guy froze.
"What were they?"
Silence.
And here's the thing, you might think that's a bad move. Like, hey, maybe answer the question?
Nope.
Rookie mistake.
Because when Stephane asks a question like that, he doesn't actually want an answer. He already knows it. He just wants to see if you're smart enough not to say it.
The soldier stayed quiet.
Stephane nodded once.
"Correct!"
A couple of the soldiers almost flinched out of their armor.
"We were short on weapons when the invaders arrived," Stephane went on, his voice rising slightly. "And when we finally got more weapons…"
He paused.
Leaning forward just enough to make everyone uncomfortable.
"We still got overpowered."
Now his voice wasn't calm anymore.
It was sharp.
Dangerous.
"In a fight," he said slowly, "with one of them."
He let that sink in.
"A child," he added.
Another pause.
"With neko-te."
Okay, side note, if you don't know what neko-te are, just imagine claws. Not the cute, fluffy kind. The "you're going to need several bandages and maybe a new life plan" kind.
"How," Stephane snapped, his voice cracking like a whip, "did you all lose?!"
At this point, you could've dropped a feather and it would've sounded like a thunderclap.
And yeah, it wasn't just about losing.
It was about never losing.
Because Ganja Town?
Didn't do that.
Not ever.
Ever since Kiseki's grandfather took over as the town's weapon smith, back in what everyone liked to call "the last era," because apparently everything sounds cooler with dramatic titles, things had been… stable.
Too stable.
The guy was basically a legend. A total kami when it came to metalwork. Weapons he made didn't just last, they lasted. Like, two to three years of constant fighting and still going strong kind of lasted.
Not that they needed it much.
Ganja wasn't exactly a war hotspot. Most other towns barely paid attention to it. And the Masked One's family?
Yeah, they'd never even looked in Ganja's direction before.
Which made this whole situation even worse.
Who were these invaders? Stephane wondered.
And more importantly,
Why now?
He very carefully did not let his thoughts wander into worst-case scenarios. Because if he did, he might actually start worrying.
And Stephane didn't do that.
Then,
"WE WON!"
The shout came from the palace entrance like a cannon blast.
Every head turned.
Mendo came sprinting in, looking way too excited for someone who had very recently been kidnapped.
Stephane's eyes widened.
Which, for him, was basically the emotional equivalent of screaming.
Because yeah, Mendo getting kidnapped?
Definitely on the list of things he did not expect.
And now here he was.
Alive.
Running.
Yelling.
Stephane moved quickly, faster than anyone expected, and checked him over like a worried parent who would absolutely deny being worried.
No cuts.
No bruises.
No anything.
Mendo was completely fine.
Which honestly just raised more questions.
Meanwhile,
Elsewhere in the palace, far away from stress, responsibility, and emotional damage,
Kiseki was lying back in his room, completely at peace.
In his hands?
Volume 8 of Major Warlord.
The only manga worth reading. Obviously.
He flipped a page, focused, like the entire world hadn't just nearly fallen apart.
Now, how did he get it?
Great question.
Definitely not by casually stuffing his pockets with gold coins from the carriage before escaping.
And he definitely didn't have the rest hidden somewhere for future manga purchases.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Because if he'd left the money behind?
Please.
It would've been stolen anyway.
And Kiseki?
Didn't believe in officials enough to test that theory.
Kiseki's grandfather walked in like he had all the time in the world, which was annoying because he always looked like that even when he was clearly about to do something important.
"So you finally came back," he said, already scanning Kiseki's shelves like he expected to find a missing sword, a criminal, or both. "Did you win this time?"
"No—" Kiseki started, caught off guard. Then he frowned and corrected himself without even looking up from his comic. "I mean, I didn't spar anyone. At least not this time."
His grandfather gave a quiet hum, the kind that meant he'd heard everything and judged none of it yet. "Well, is that so."
He pulled a tungsten tong from somewhere on the shelf, shut the cabinet with a neat little motion, and stood there for a second like he was deciding whether to say more or leave. His face never really changed. Calm. Collected. The kind of expression that made you think he already knew three things you didn't.
As he headed for the door, Kiseki called after him.
"Pop Pop."
His grandfather stopped, but didn't turn around. Which, honestly, felt like a very grandfather thing to do.
"You've seen a lot of the world, right?" Kiseki asked, still reading. "There were these two men… no, wait. The second one was pretty much as much of a kid as I am. But they beat the whole palace guard in a fight."
He flipped a page.
His grandfather tilted his head just enough to show he was listening.
"They invaded the palace?" he asked, calm as ever.
"Yeah," Kiseki said. "And it only took one of them to beat the guard, too. Giving the guards their weapons back didn't really change much."
Only then did Kiseki glance up. "They were wearing these black outfits. I've never seen them before. Are they famous outside town?"
To Kiseki, it was just a story. A weird one, sure. Two invaders, one of them basically a kid, walking into the palace and shutting the whole guard down without even hurting anyone badly. Then they left. Simple.
But his grandfather went dead quiet.
That kind of quiet that wasn't empty. It was loaded.
"Oh," he said at last, one eyebrow lifting slightly. "Did they take hostages?"
Kiseki shook his head and lifted his comic back up. "No. They almost took Mendo, but I saved him. They're gone now."
His grandfather's expression stayed perfectly even, but something in the room shifted anyway. Like a door had been opened somewhere far away.
"Of course," he said, turning toward Kiseki's desk. "Put your sandals back on, boy. You're going to deliver a letter to the King's boy for me."
He started writing.
Kiseki sighed internally. He had been planning on spending the rest of the day with Major Warlord, and now apparently he was part of the family's delivery service.
Still, he took the letter when his grandfather handed it over, rolled up tight.
"Hmm," Kiseki muttered, already regretting everything.
By the time Kiseki made his way toward the palace, something else was happening at the edge of town.
Because again, nothing ever happens one at a time. Delilah and her Handsomes arrived at the gate. They didn't rush in. They didn't need to. They just… arrived.
Delilah stepped down as her Handsomes lowered her, landing perfectly like she'd done this a thousand times, which she probably had.
She looked around slowly. Taking everything in. The buildings. The streets. The air. And then she wrinkled her nose, "Disgusting."
Yeah. That was her official review of Ganja Town.
Meanwhile by the time Kiseki reached the palace, the guards were back at their posts like nothing had happened. That was the thing about guards, I guess. You could humiliate them one day, and the next they'd be standing around like they'd never lost a fight in their lives.
Inside through the staff entrance, Kiseki passed the training room first.
The soldiers were back to sparring in high spirits, shouting and moving like the whole invasion had been some kind of inconvenient dream. The confidence had returned.
The gold, though?
Yeah, that was still gone.
Kiseki moved deeper into the palace and climbed the stairs toward Stephane's chamber, which also happened to be where the King's six-year-old son stayed, because apparently protecting a child was also part of Stephane's job description.
Not that Stephane was useless. He wasn't. He was actually pretty good in a one-on-one fight, especially against assassins or enemy soldiers.
He just hadn't been much help during the invasion.
Which, judging by what Kiseki heard as he got close to the room, had not improved Stephane's opinion of himself.
The door was open just enough for Kiseki to hear him talking to the mirror.
"What a stunning man if I do say so myself," Stephane said. "Most effective soldier in battle, the King's one and only right-hand man, and more importantly… what all the ladies want."
Kiseki made a face so hard he nearly choked.
Stephane was still going, because of course he was.
Then Kiseki stepped in and cut him off before the man could embarrass himself any further.
"Stephane, you good?"
Stephane spun around instantly, dignity offended on principle. "That's MR. STEPHANE to you," he snapped, then stopped and narrowed his eyes. "And what business do you have above the weapons roo—?"
"Yeah, yeah," Kiseki interrupted, holding up the rolled letter. "My grandfather wanted you to have this."
Stephane stared at the paper in Kiseki's hand with skeptical curiosity.
Stephane crossed the room so fast Kiseki almost expected the floorboards to complain.
"A message for me?" Stephane asked.
"Yeah, no kidding," Kiseki muttered under his breath.
Stephane ignored him, took the letter, and broke the seal. His eyes moved across the page once, then again, then slower the third time, like the words had personally offended him. By the time he finished, his whole face had gone flat in that dangerous way adults do when they suddenly remember the world is worse than they thought.
Then the urgency hit.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just immediate.
Stephane looked at Kiseki. "Follow me, child."
And before Kiseki could even ask what was going on, Stephane was already out the door.
Then running.
Not walking fast. Not hurrying.
Running like the kind of man who had just found out time itself was late.
Mendo happened to be in the way, which was probably the worst possible place to be when Stephane was in that mood. Without slowing down, Stephane scooped him up and kept moving, carrying him under one arm like an afterthought while he stormed down the stairs and out toward his battle chariot.
Kiseki watched him disappear and sighed.
Of course.
Of course he was going to have to walk.
Meanwhile, Delilah was making her way through the town with her Handsomes trailing behind her like a moving wall of judgment. Her eyes kept drifting over everything she saw, weighing, measuring, dismissing. At one point she noticed children heading into Mr. Jerome's store and paused just long enough to make the place look guilty.
That seemed as good a place as any to begin her search.
Or, more accurately, her interrogations.
By the time Kiseki finally reached Stephane's chariot space, his legs were already insulting him. Stephane was there, waiting, with Mendo seated near him like he had been promoted to cargo.
Kiseki slowed to a stop and looked between them. "So this is the emergency?"
Stephane's expression said the answer was no, and much worse than that.
Kiseki had a bad feeling the second he climbed into the chariot.
Not the normal kind either. Not the I forgot to eat breakfast kind. Not even the Stephane is acting weird again kind.
This felt heavier.
The moment Kiseki got in, Stephane snapped the reins and the horses lunged forward so hard the entire chariot jerked like it wanted to throw everyone off immediately.
On both sides, two more chariots rolled into formation beside them.
Protection.
Or at least that was probably the idea.
To Kiseki, it felt more like they were fleeing something nobody wanted to explain.
"Stephane," Kiseki started, gripping the side of the chariot as the town blurred around them, "are you even going to tell us where we're going—"
"No questions," Stephane cut in instantly.
His eyes never left the road.
For a few seconds, only the wheels and horses filled the silence.
Then Stephane tilted his head slightly. "And it's Mr. Stephane."
Kiseki blinked.
"Huh?"
Seriously?
That was what mattered right now?
Kiseki frowned at the back of Stephane's head. Normally Stephane was strict, loud, annoying—basically all the worst traits of an overworked palace official wrapped into one human being.
But this version of him felt different.
Too calm.
Too focused.
Like if he relaxed for even one second, something terrible would happen.
Kiseki hated it.
Still… the letter had come from his grandfather.
So he stayed quiet.
For now.
The chariot thundered through town streets, past merchants, guards, startled villagers—
Then Kiseki's eyes drifted toward the hill where his home stood.
And suddenly the world narrowed.
His grandfather was being held up by the collar.
The old man's feet barely touched the ground as a huge man restrained him effortlessly. Beside them stood a woman Kiseki had never seen before, surrounded by several others built almost exactly the same.
Tall.
Dangerous.
Wrong.
Even from this far away, Kiseki could feel it.
"What boy?" his grandfather asked calmly.
"The boy who frequents the palace," the woman replied. "Where is he?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
The woman sighed dramatically, like everyone around her existed only to inconvenience her.
"You're the third person today to say that."
She covered part of her face with one hand and stepped closer.
Then she moved two fingers aside.
Kiseki's stomach tightened.
Her eyes had changed.
Her pupils glowed red.
Her irises twisted into the shape of hearts.
"I came aaaall the way here," she said in an exaggerated sweet voice, "and now I'm sooo tired. You're not going to help me? Are you suuure?"
Even from a distance, Kiseki could tell something was off about her.
But his grandfather didn't react at all.
Not even a blink.
His face stayed exactly the same.
Calm.
Steady.
Almost disappointed.
Kiseki remembered all the stories his grandfather used to collect. Rumors from travelers. Stories from distant regions. Names people whispered when they thought children weren't listening.
The Family.
Kaida.
Different names.
Same fear.
Apparently this woman belonged to them.
Apparently she expected everybody to fold beneath those strange eyes.
Apparently she'd picked the wrong old man.
His grandfather stood there unmoved, built like somebody who spent his entire life lifting burdens heavier than fear itself.
So naturally—
The huge man punched him in the stomach.
Kiseki froze.
For a second, he forgot the sound of the chariot wheels. Forgot the wind. Forgot everything.
The woman turned slightly, catching sight of the fleeing chariots from the corner of her eye.
"Disgusting," she muttered beneath her breath.
Then she stared toward the road.
Toward Kiseki.
He couldn't fully make out her expression from this distance, but somehow it still felt like she was looking directly into him.
Like she already knew who he was.
Kiseki's hands clenched.
He looked at Mendo beside him.
The kid had no idea what was happening.
Then Kiseki looked back toward the hill.
Toward his grandfather.
Toward the woman.
Toward the men surrounding him.
His blood boiled.
"Stop the ride!" Kiseki shouted.
Stephane ignored him.
Kiseki's teeth grit harder. "This is why we're leaving, isn't it? You're protecting Mendo and letting everybody else suffer for it!"
Nothing.
The chariot kept racing forward.
Kiseki glanced over the side.
Way too fast to jump safely.
"That won't change anything!" he yelled. "Let me go!"
Still nothing.
Kiseki slammed a hand against his own chest before throwing it outward in frustration.
"Can't you hear me?! I said—"
"You said what?"
Stephane's voice cut through sharply.
Kiseki hesitated.
Stephane still hadn't turned around.
"And when I let you down," Stephane continued calmly, "what exactly do you intend to do?"
Kiseki opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
Because he didn't know.
Because the answer sounded pathetic in his own head.
Stephane spoke again.
"Your grandfather helped me protect the Heir to the throne. In exchange, he asked that I protect you with my life."
His grip tightened on the reins.
"That's all there is to it."
Kiseki looked away bitterly.
"Believe me," Stephane said, "I would love nothing more than to drop you here and let you handle your own problems."
That got Kiseki's attention immediately.
"But I won't break my promise."
The wind whipped through the silence between them.
"If you want to die," Stephane said flatly, "you'll have to kill me first."
Kiseki stared at him.
"…Uh."
That was way more intense than expected.
"You're taking this a little far…"
Stephane didn't answer.
Kiseki sighed heavily and looked back toward the town again.
"But how do we save Pops?" he muttered. "We're almost out of town."
Stephane's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I'll return once you and the Heir are somewhere safe."
Kiseki scoffed quietly.
"Yeah right."
He leaned against the side of the chariot, still glaring toward the shrinking town.
"If my grandpa dies," he muttered, "you better die before him too… or I'll kill you myself."
Another silence.
Then Kiseki exhaled through his nose.
"…Alright. Let's go."
Beside him, Mendo suddenly pointed ahead.
"Guys," he said quietly. "Look."
At the entrance of the temple stood one of the tall men.
One of the Handsomes.
He blocked the road with his arms spread wide, standing completely still like he'd been waiting for them the entire time.
Kiseki's eyes widened.
Stephane immediately braced himself.
Then—
FWIP.
An arrow flew from the third chariot.
It slammed into the man's shoulder.
The Handsome staggered just enough.
Stephane drove straight through the opening while the second chariot followed close behind.
But the third,
The Handsome leaped directly onto it.
The chariot rocked violently.
Kiseki turned just in time to see the man tearing through the soldiers aboard like an animal.
Punches.
Blood.
Bodies thrown aside.
The third chariot slowed further and further behind them.
Kiseki couldn't stop staring.
Again.
Again people were risking their lives for him while he sat there helpless.
Again all he could do was watch.
His blood burned hotter with every second the town disappeared behind them.
Stephane kept driving forward without hesitation.
For him, nothing mattered more than reaching safety now.
And luckily,
Kiseki tightened his grip on the letter in his pocket,
His grandfather had already prepared one.