Back in the sprawling war camp, the air was thick with smoke and tension. The banners of Rocco's Legion fluttered in the wind, their crimson insignia casting long shadows across the rows of tents. Soldiers marched in formation, their armor clanking in rhythm, while the scent of steel and sweat filled the air.
Inside the largest tent, Rocco sat at the head of a long table surrounded by his officers. Maps of the realm were spread before them, marked with red ink and pins denoting occupied territories and checkpoints.
"We have scoured the lands," Rocco said, his deep voice echoing through the tent. "Checkpoints have been placed at every entrance and exit of every city and village. It won't be long until we find the murderers."
The officers nodded in agreement, their faces grim.
The tent flap opened, and Dreadmore entered, his boots leaving a trail of dust behind him. He bowed slightly. "You called for me, my lord."
Rocco leaned back in his chair, his piercing eyes fixed on him. "Report. What did you find at the northern checkpoint?"
Dreadmore straightened. "Nothing suspicious, my lord. But if I may—" he paused, his tone cautious, "—if they are truly trying to escape our grasp, the only logical route left for them is through the Desert of Solara. It's treacherous, but it's the only path we haven't fully secured."
Rocco drummed his fingers on the table, his expression unreadable. "The desert..." he muttered. "A barren wasteland. No sane man would cross it."
"Perhaps," Dreadmore replied, "but they are desperate. And desperate people do desperate things."
The tent fell silent for a moment. The crackle of the nearby brazier was the only sound.
Finally, Rocco stood, his heavy cloak sweeping behind him. "We'll find them soon enough," he said, his tone calm but laced with authority. "But for now, our focus shifts elsewhere."
He turned toward the map, his finger tracing a path eastward. "We march to Avilon—the sanctuary of the Ronins."
The officers exchanged uneasy glances.
Dreadmore frowned. "Avilon? The Ronins are not known for alliances. They live by their own code."
Rocco smirked. "Which is exactly why we need them. They are two hundred thousand strong—warriors without masters, bound only by strength and honor. If we are to achieve dominance over this realm, we must amass our armies. The Ronins will either join us... or be crushed beneath us."
The officers murmured among themselves, some in awe, others in fear.
Rocco's gaze hardened. "Prepare the men. We leave at dawn. Dreadmore, you will accompany me personally. I want Avilon under our banner before the next moon rises."
Dreadmore bowed. "As you command, my lord."
Rocco turned toward the tent's entrance, his silhouette framed by the flickering torchlight. "The age of scattered kingdoms is over," he said coldly. "Soon, all will kneel under one banner—mine."
Outside, the drums of war began to beat once more, echoing across the plains as the Legion prepared to march. The storm was gathering, and the realm would soon tremble beneath its weight.
Far away in the moonlight, the heroes traveled quietly under the silver glow of the night sky. The rhythmic creak of the carriage wheels and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees were the only sounds that filled the still air. Everyone else was asleep—Shin, Isolde, Sam, Chrome, Pixie, and Ciara—their breathing steady as the carriage rolled along the dirt road.
At the back end of the carriage, Han sat awake, tinkering with the gears of his new mechanical arm. The faint hum of runes glowed softly against the moonlight as he adjusted the joints and tightened the bolts.
A gentle voice broke the silence. "Can't sleep?"
Han turned slightly. Eva stood beside him, her hair catching the moonlight like strands of silver.
He nodded. "Yeah... it's hard to sleep. That past encounter with Alucard still gives me nightmares."
Eva sat down beside him, her expression soft. "I understand. It's not easy to forget something like that."
Han hesitated for a moment, then looked at her. "Eva, can I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead," she replied, her tone calm and inviting.
"Why do you accompany us," Han asked quietly, "even though it's dangerous?"
Eva smiled faintly, her eyes reflecting the moonlight. "That's easy," she said. "It's because you're all my friends. No—" she paused, placing a hand over her heart, "—I consider you family already."
Han blinked, surprised by her sincerity.
Eva continued, her voice soft but steady. "I was an orphan, raised by Nestor at the academy. I never knew my parents. When I was born, they left me on Nestor's porch. He took care of me like I was his own. When that incident happened in the village and he told me to go with Shin... it felt like I finally had a purpose. That purpose makes me happy. It makes me feel complete."
Han listened quietly, his gaze fixed on her. After a moment, he said, "I understand that feeling. I once felt the same with Shin and the rest of the Ten. But right now..." He paused, his voice softening. "Being with you—I'm happy every time we're together. And if we ever reach the end of this journey with Shin and the others... I'd like us to keep traveling together."
He said it with a serious face, his eyes steady on hers.
Eva turned to him, her cheeks warming under his gaze. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall silent. She placed her hand gently against her chest, her heartbeat quickening.
"I don't know about that, Han," she said softly, "but when the time comes... you can ask me again, okay?"
Han smiled, a faint warmth in his eyes. "That's a promise, then."
Eva nodded, her expression softening. The night breeze brushed past them, carrying the scent of pine and earth.
After a moment, Eva yawned quietly and leaned closer. "I'm tired," she murmured. "Can I rest here for a bit, Han?"
Han smiled gently. "Rest easy."
She rested her head on his shoulder, her breathing slowing as she drifted into sleep. Han looked down at her, a faint smile lingering on his lips.
Under the moonlight's gaze, the carriage rolled onward through the quiet night—two hearts finding peace amid the endless road ahead.
The sun had risen, painting the horizon in hues of gold and crimson. The gang finally reached the towering gates of Alindor, a grand city that stood as the divider between the forest and the desert.
The sight before them was breathtaking. The city was massive—its marble walls gleaming under the sunlight, its towers adorned with banners of green and gold. The streets were alive with activity, filled with merchants, nobles, and travelers from every corner of the realm. Humans, elves, and even dwarves mingled together, their voices blending into a lively chorus of trade and chatter.
Sam leaned out of the carriage window, her eyes wide. "It's beautiful..."
Isolde smirked. "Told you Alindor was something else. The city of wealth and power—where gold talks louder than swords."
They ventured downtown, passing through the bustling market and reaching the village square, where fountains and statues of elven heroes stood proudly.
They parked the carriage near the plaza. Shin turned to Han. "Come with me to the blacksmith. We'll see about upgrading our equipment."
Han nodded, adjusting his mechanical arm. "Lead the way."
Meanwhile, Isolde, Eva, Sam, and Ciara decided to head toward a nearby pub. "We'll grab something to eat," Isolde said, already walking off with a grin.
Pixie followed eagerly, her wings fluttering. "I heard Alindor's pastries are the best!"
As they disappeared into the crowd, Chrome stayed behind to tie the horses and secure the carriage. He hummed to himself, tightening the reins and checking the wheels.
When he turned around, the square was empty. Everyone was gone.
He blinked, looking left and right. "Wait... where did everyone go?"
Silence.
His shoulders slumped, and he frowned dramatically. "Why did you guys leave me?" he muttered, his voice cracking as he pretended to sob. "Ungrateful teammates, leaving their leader all alone..."
The guards nearby gave him odd looks as he sniffled loudly, muttering to himself about "ungrateful teammates, leaving their leader all alone."
The city of Alindor bustled on, unaware of the lonely beastmaster sulking beside his carriage.
Shin and Han made their way through the crowded streets until they reached the blacksmith's forge. The sound of hammering metal echoed through the air, sparks flying from the glowing forge that illuminated the workshop.
Standing confidently in front of the anvil was a female blacksmith. She had long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and wore large hoop earrings. Her outfit consisted of a white tied crop top, a red neckerchief, and frayed denim shorts—rugged yet stylish. A wide belt with leather pouches hung at her waist, and armored gauntlets covered both her arms. Resting on her shoulder was a massive sledgehammer that looked heavy enough to crush stone.
She turned toward them, her eyes sharp. "What do you need now, gentlemen? If you don't plan on buying, then skadush the hell out of my forge!"
Shin and Han froze, startled by her fiery tone.
"W-we were wondering if you could do some upgrades," Han stammered.
The blacksmith spat into an iron bowl and crossed her arms. "Upgrades, huh? Right now, that'll cost ya. I've got plenty of work already, and you two look like you're in a hurry. Come back next week—I'll be less occupied. Now scram."
Shin frowned. "We're leaving tomorrow morning. Is there anyone else in the city who can help us?"
The blacksmith gave them a long, intimidating stare before sighing. "You can go find one yourselves. I'm busy. Ciao."
With that, she turned her back and resumed hammering, sparks flying as the two men awkwardly backed out of the forge.
They had no choice but to head back.
At the pub, the ladies were already eating when Han and Shin arrived. Isolde spotted them and grinned mischievously. She grabbed two mugs of beer and tossed them toward the men. "Cheer up! Drink with us!"
Shin caught his mug, chuckling. "Thanks. Where's Chrome?"
Isolde shrugged. "Maybe he's flying around somewhere. Don't mind him."
Somewhere outside, Chrome sneezed, clutching his chest as if struck by an unseen arrow.
Then Isolde added with a smirk, "It would be nice if he gets lost for a while."
Chrome froze mid-step, his eyes wide. "Why does my heart hurt...?" he muttered dramatically, clutching his chest again.
Isolde leaned back in her chair, laughing demonically. "Or better yet—it would be nice if he became the horse and got stuck in that transformation forever!"
The group burst into laughter, raising their mugs as Isolde cackled like a villain.
Outside, Chrome suddenly felt another sharp pain in his chest, knocking him to his knees. "W-what is happening to me?" he gasped, clutching his heart. "Why does it feel like I'm being stabbed by multiple arrows!?"
He collapsed beside the carriage, groaning dramatically as passersby stared in confusion.
Back in the pub, the laughter continued, echoing through the warm, lively air of Alindor—completely unaware of the poor beastmaster suffering outside.
That night, when everyone was asleep, Han tossed and turned in his bed. His dreams were filled with haunting visions—Alucard's crimson eyes and Lucius's cold laughter echoing in the darkness. The memories of their battle replayed endlessly, tormenting him until he jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
Unable to sleep, he decided to take a walk through the quiet streets of Alindor. The moon hung high above, casting a pale glow over the cobblestone roads. As he wandered, he passed by the forge they had visited earlier. To his surprise, the female blacksmith was still working, hammering away even at this late hour.
He was about to move on when he noticed something—the forge's flames were growing too bright. Smoke began to rise, and sparks leapt dangerously close to the wooden beams.
Han rushed inside. The fire had started to spread slightly, licking at the edges of the workbench. Acting quickly, he grabbed a bucket of water and doused the flames before they could grow.
When the smoke cleared, he saw the blacksmith collapsed near the anvil, unconscious—likely from exhaustion and the heat of the furnace.
Han hurried to her side, soaking a cloth in water and gently dabbing her face. "Hey, wake up," he said softly. "You're safe now."
After a few moments, she stirred, blinking groggily. "W-what happened...?"
"You almost burned your forge down," Han explained. "I saw the fire from outside and came in time to stop it."
The woman's eyes widened as she looked around, realizing the truth. "If it weren't for you... my forge would've been nothing but ashes." She sat up slowly, brushing soot from her cheek. "Thank you."
Han smiled faintly. "Glad I was nearby."
She extended her hand. "The name's Maeve. And you are?"
"Han," he replied, shaking her hand. "Say, since you don't have anyone helping you... would it be alright if I assisted you for a while?"
Maeve raised an eyebrow. "Blacksmithing isn't easy, you know. It takes years to master."
Han's expression didn't waver. "I'm a quick learner. Teach me."
Maeve studied him for a moment, seeing the conviction in his eyes—the same determination she once had when she first picked up a hammer. Finally, she sighed and smirked. "Alright, Han. You've got guts. Let's see if you can handle the heat."
All night long, they worked side by side at the forge. Sparks danced in the air as metal clashed against metal, the rhythmic sound of hammering echoing through the quiet streets. Maeve was impressed—Han learned quickly, his movements growing more confident with each strike.
By the time the first light of dawn touched the horizon, they had finished forging a new piece—Han's arm, reforged in Mithril, gleaming with a faint silver-blue glow.
Maeve wiped the sweat from her brow, smiling proudly. "Not bad for a beginner. You kept your end of the bargain."
Han flexed his new arm, feeling the smooth, powerful motion of the Mithril joints. "Couldn't have done it without you."
As the sun began to rise, Han made his way back to the inn. Eva had just woken up and stepped outside, stretching as the morning light bathed the city in gold. She spotted Han walking toward her, his new arm glinting in the sunlight.
Her eyes widened. "Han... your arm!"
Han smiled, raising his new hand and waving. "Pretty neat, huh?"
Eva smiled warmly, her heart lifting at the sight. "It suits you."
They stood together as the sun rose higher, the light reflecting off the Mithril arm like a promise of renewal.
For the first time in a long while, Han felt whole again. Together, they welcomed the new day—with hope, strength, and the promise of a brighter future.