The figure vanished.
Just like that.
One moment it stood atop the ridge.
The next—
nothing.
Only drifting sand remained.
Haruto immediately moved.
Fast.
Not running.
Running in a desert was a good way to die.
But fast enough.
The ridge wasn't far.
He reached it within minutes.
The wind greeted him.
Nothing else did.
No footprints.
No camp.
No trail.
Nothing.
Haruto stood at the top.
Scanning the dunes below.
Empty.
The figure had disappeared completely.
As if it had never existed.
"...I hate this world."
Belial nodded.
"NOW YOU'RE LEARNING."
Haruto looked around again.
Still nothing.
No evidence.
No clue.
No explanation.
His gaze dropped toward the sand.
Then froze.
"...Belial."
The goat walked over.
"What?"
Haruto pointed.
Half-buried beneath the sand lay a small stone.
At first glance it looked ordinary.
Then Belial noticed the carving.
The same symbol.
A circle crossed by three lines.
The marker.
The one they had seen earlier.
Except this time—
words surrounded it.
Not many.
Only a few.
The letters looked rough.
Uneven.
As if carved in a hurry.
Haruto crouched.
Then brushed away more sand.
The message became visible.
A single sentence.
His heart skipped.
Because he recognized the language.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
The writing wasn't from this world.
It was Japanese.
Old.
Damaged.
Barely readable.
Yet unmistakable.
Haruto stared.
Then slowly read the words aloud.
"...if you're reading this..."
The wind seemed quieter.
Belial stopped joking.
Haruto swallowed.
Then continued.
"...you saw it too."
Silence.
A chill ran through him.
Not because of the message.
Because of what it implied.
Someone had expected this.
Someone had known.
The stone continued.
"...don't follow the echo."
Haruto's eyes narrowed.
Echo.
The exact word.
Not ghost.
Not spirit.
Echo.
His pulse quickened.
More text appeared below.
Much older.
More damaged.
Entire sections had been worn away by centuries of sand.
Only fragments remained.
> "...not him..."
>
> "...remembers itself..."
>
> "...wearing my face..."
Haruto felt his stomach tighten.
The final line was almost completely destroyed.
Almost.
One section survived.
Just enough.
> "...if you meet a black goat..."
Both Haruto and Belial froze.
"...what?"
Haruto blinked.
Then looked down again.
The words were still there.
Belial stepped closer.
"...WHAT?"
Haruto continued reading.
The last surviving fragment said:
> "...don't trust..."
The rest had been erased.
Gone.
Lost forever.
Silence.
Belial stared at the stone.
The stone stared back.
Haruto looked at the goat.
The goat looked at Haruto.
"..."
"..."
Finally—
Belial pointed at the damaged section.
"IT COULD SAY ANYTHING."
Haruto raised an eyebrow.
"It literally says 'don't trust.'"
"THAT DOESN'T COUNT."
"It absolutely counts."
"THE REST IS MISSING."
Haruto nodded.
"Convenient."
"EXTREMELY CONVENIENT."
The goat looked deeply offended.
Which only made Haruto more suspicious.
For the next several minutes, neither spoke.
The desert stretched endlessly around them.
The stone remained where it had been left.
Waiting.
Like a message tossed across centuries.
Eventually Haruto stood.
His gaze drifted toward the horizon.
Toward where the figure had disappeared.
Toward where the echo had gone.
A question lingered.
One that wouldn't leave.
If Arthur had left warnings—
Then Arthur had seen the echo too.
Which meant this wasn't new.
This wasn't random.
This had happened before.
And if it had happened before...
Then Arthur's story might not be over yet.
The thought unsettled him.
Not because it was impossible.
Because it felt possible.
Beside him, Belial suddenly spoke.
Quietly.
For once.
"...Haruto."
"What?"
The goat's eyes remained fixed on the horizon.
"...we should find the caravan."
Haruto blinked.
That was unexpected.
Belial hated people.
Avoided people.
Mocked people.
Yet now—
it sounded serious.
Genuinely serious.
"Why?"
A pause.
The goat hesitated.
For the first time since they'd met.
Then—
"...because if the echo is awake..."
The wind picked up.
"...it means something else is waking up too."
And somehow—
that answer raised far more questions than it solved.