If the army ravaging the land is not eradicated, then the barren winds sweeping across this earth will never cease. Fear has long since seeped into the flesh and blood of the people, feeding on their panicked flight, using their madness as fuel to expand its reach once more.
How can iron hooves trample this hopeless situation? If even the royal blade cannot be drawn to action, then what peace can dawn possibly bring?
“Shiryo, what have you been busy with these past few days?”
Cough, cough—as if, in their eyes, none of this was anything to worry about.
Behind a gracefully walking girl trailed an elderly man in a gray-black robe, his face weathered like ravines—Anarak. Leaning on his long staff, he struggled to keep up with the girl ahead, though his strength failed him.
“…I’ve been looking for Elf and you.”
The girl, carved like ice—Hazuki Shiryo—replied briefly and fell silent again.
They had been walking through the night for quite some time and still hadn’t reached their hoped-for destination. Meanwhile, the battle in the city was growing more dire by the moment…
But who could say? Perhaps the scales would tip either way—or perhaps it would be a crushing victory or defeat. Who could know everything? You? Me? Neither, right?
We are merely onlookers, pointing from the sidelines.
Still, let this be remembered—
The sky that blankets this land will always hold a place for you. I’ve continued the story on your behalf.
“Shiryo, where are you taking this old man?”
“…To save Elf.”
Another brief, plain answer. Shiryo didn’t even turn her head, which only deepened Anarak’s concern.
But what use was worry? It would only add to his cares, cloud his judgment, and tangle his thoughts.
Anarak let out a long sigh. He was trying to lighten the mood—or rather, to comfort himself—through conversation. Because Shiryo’s condition really wasn’t looking good.
And as for Shiryo—was she just making things up? Since she’d managed to find him, surely she had a way to find little Elf too. He had to trust her… no, he must trust her.
Just as he was about to say something more, Anarak accidentally bumped into Shiryo, who had suddenly stopped. He was about to offer a word of concern when he heard her say:
“…Grandpa An, step back.”
“What are you—!?”
Before Anarak could process it, Shiryo leaped up and shoved him backward. He barely had time to recover before he heard the familiar roar of flames—then the clash of blades.
“Heh, the weather’s about to turn.” And with that, the sound of a crossbow bolt being released.
Anarak was frantic with worry, but there was nothing he could do. The only thing within his power was to have his golems coalesce from the walls and then weakly fade away.
The area was thick with smoke, but even so, Anarak could still make out one prominent feature—a blade-shaped gleam of deep blue light weaving freely through the haze.
That was Shiryo fighting with all her might… or perhaps just fighting normally.
The clang of metal, paired with the roar of distant war, was like a little BGM accompanying this skirmish.
To Shiryo, this was barely even a passing interlude—and she was eager to put a swift end to this unexpected turn of events.
All Anarak could do was sigh to himself. This wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a joke. It was just another brushstroke on the canvas.
“Heh, can’t let my guard down. I can’t afford to lose my life here.”
No sooner had she spoken than Shiryo’s deep azure glow lost its shadowy hue, and the smoke dispersed, clearing the view once more.
And from afar, a voice carried a message to Shiryo and her companion—【That lord has been waiting for you at the South Gate for quite some time.】
Anarak was utterly baffled. He still couldn’t grasp the full picture of this bewildering situation. All he could do was stand quietly behind Shiryo, who seemed to be weighing her options, and wait.
“…This is the hub of the commercial pedestrian street. Right, Grandpa An?” Shiryo asked abruptly, startling Anarak into hurriedly confirming—and only then did he nod in reassurance.
“Yes, this is indeed the heart of this place. It used to look so dilapidated and poor back then—I never imagined it would become this bustling. It’s a pity this old man will never have a taste of its pleasures again.”
Hearing this, Shiryo pulled out a small orb from her pocket—one that radiated a violet, enchanting light from end to end. She gave it a little shake, as if she’d seen something, her eyes focusing on a distant point. Then she tucked the orb away and strode briskly in that direction. Anarak, completely in the dark, had no choice but to follow closely behind.
In the few fleeting moments that followed, Anarak could barely tell what was happening. He and Shiryo weaved together through arcs of blade and gale, drifting through tides of magical energy. All this bloodshed brought Anarak back, time and again, to his own days of military service—
Beneath the dim lamplight of a tent, a young man—himself—and his comrades polished their staves and blades, preparing for their next assault. But then, a magical artillery round fell from the sky, heavy with dense mana and threatening force, reducing their camp to ash.
In the residual waves of that magic, in the blood-soaked edges of his vision, he saw the sweeping advance of human soldiers—and at last understood the true cruelty of war.
A blade sharp as light but drenched in gore, and a staff on the verge of collapse—they were his only companions. Perched atop the canopy of a tree, facing a volley of arrows from afar, his heart had long since crumbled to ash—
This war, for him, was already lost.
The elven cause of defending their homeland had failed. There was no reason left to fight. Even if he saved this patch of land beneath him, it would end up just as ravaged as the first battle. There was no justification for clinging to a corner of peace here.
“Ah, oh… Why… why did that come to mind? Hehehe, I suppose it’s just my old age catching up with me, isn’t it?”
Stroking his goatee, Anarak chuckled softly. When he looked around, he realized the scenery had changed entirely from just moments before—and only then did he understand that he’d been lost in thought for quite a while.
This place was a corner of the city of Feltro—one could call it its shadowy underbelly. With the inspection squads enforcing strict discipline, many shady dealings could only be conducted here. And on the heels of last night, quite a few bloody incidents—even murders and robberies—had occurred… Piles of unidentifiable remains turned up all at once, making the follow-up work painfully heavy.
It was like counting a huge pile of beans that all looked the same but had slight differences—then distributing them to families that were also roughly alike, yet subtly different in color.
“We’re here, Grandpa An. This is the place.”
Shiryo stopped abruptly before a door, leaving Anarak deeply puzzled—if they were looking for Elf, shouldn’t they have gone to the South Gate to confront that so-called “lord” just now? Why come here instead?
“…Ah, this old man remembers now. Just last night, Elf suddenly left the house… and then she brought you back with her, didn’t she? I think I heard Elf mention that it was here—and that there was another elf, too.”
“Yes. I was here last night when I was attacked by an imposter.”
Shiryo stepped forward and knocked on the tavern’s small wooden door. But after a long pause, all that came from inside was a man’s dismissive grunt—
“Move along. The tavern’s closed tonight. If you’re one of those boozing scoundrels, then scram.”
A click sounded from behind the door—maybe a lock, maybe a bolt.
Seeing this, Shiryo knocked again, but the response from inside was one of utter indifference—
“Shiryo, it seems we’re not welcome here… What are you—?”
Just as Anarak was about to suggest they turn back and find another way, he saw Shiryo push him back a few steps, then press her hand against the unassuming wooden door.
In an instant, mana surged from Shiryo’s arm like a tide of ocean-blue, spreading across the door like a seal, covering every inch of it. Then Shiryo clenched her fist—
In that same instant, under the blue radiance, the wooden door was completely shattered. For Anarak, this was already beyond anything he could hope to achieve—even in his younger, more vigorous days, he might have only managed to do slightly better than this.
“W-Whoa!! What’s going on?! Cough, cough—! Cough… Grandpa Lanka! Someone’s busted through the back door!”
A young, unfamiliar voice rang out—but Anarak felt a vague sense of familiarity. Shiryo, meanwhile, paid no heed to the splinters of wood clinging to her clothes, stepping inside without a pause.
This bar… or rather, tavern—wasn’t overly lavish. It gave off the impression of being deliberately low-key, as though it didn’t want anyone coming in—yet at the same time, it seemed to harbor a subtle craving for customers.
“Shiryo, how did you come to know a place like this? It’s not really suitable for a child.”
“Hmm. Grandpa An, I’m sorry.” Shiryo stopped in her tracks, fidgeting with her fingers in a way that seemed both shy and inscrutable.
“Haha, you must have gone through a lot of trouble looking for us, haven’t you? This old man has a fair idea of it all. You really are a hardworking child.”
At those words, the ice-carved expression on Shiryo’s face finally cracked into a faint smile.
