The mountain wind swept across the rocky face. Cold. A chill that pierced straight through to the bone. Reon remained with his back pressed against the stone, unable to move. Not because his body wouldn't obey—but because he couldn't find a reason to move at all. Blood seeped from the wound on his shoulder. Where Sera's second strike had landed. He could see the cloth stained crimson. He felt the pain. But something heavier pressed down on his entire body, crushing him. Baldo knelt beside him. His chestnut-brown hair swayed in the mountain breeze. Golden eyes watched Reon's shoulder with concern. "[serious]Let me stop the bleeding. I have cloth" Reon slowly brushed his hand away. "[cold]No" "[serious]But——" "[cold]I said no" Baldo fell silent. On the mountain path, traces remained of where Riri had been moments before. Something red stained the ground. The holy chains had carved two parallel lines into the rock. That was all that remained. Nothing else. Baldo hesitated, then spoke. "[serious]If we can contact the settlement, we might be able to call for reinforcements. If the hidden village comrades move——" "[cold]There's no time" "But——" "[cold]The Sanctification happens at dawn the day after tomorrow. A round trip to the settlement takes more than a day. The math doesn't work" The words fell like stones. Baldo started to argue, then stopped. The calculation was correct. There was no refuting it. Reon fell silent. His gaze fixed on a distant point on the rocky face, unmoving. "[serious]……Brother" "Leave me alone" His voice was low. Not a plea, not a command—just that. Baldo opened his mouth to say something, then said nothing. He slowly stood and withdrew behind a nearby rock. His footsteps faded. Only silence remained on the mountain path. ＊ Alone, memories flooded into Reon's mind. It began with sound. The screech of tires. Rain drops hammering asphalt. Headlights crossing an intersection in white light. A memory from his past life. From modern Japan—a night he couldn't save. He reached out his hand. It didn't reach. His lover lay on the ground, eyes fading as she looked up at him, and smiled. Her blood-stained lips still smiled. "It's not your fault." The gentler those words were, the more they pierced his chest. Like punishment. He couldn't find peace enough to accept forgiveness. Next came the smell of mud. Memories from when he was a slave soldier. The eastern edge of Orgen territory, before the ruins of Fort Torg. Walking over corpses. Comrades disappearing one after another. By the time he learned their names, they were already gone. Desperate just to survive, he couldn't even hold onto the feeling of protecting someone. Faces flowed past endlessly. Mud-caked faces that would never move again. And then came today's mountain path. Sera's three strikes. The sensation of being slammed into the ground. Sera's receding back. In her arms, a small body swayed. Silver-white hair fluttered in the wind. That was all he saw. That was all there was at the end. Why did I come back to life? The question rose from the depths of his chest. He couldn't save anyone in his past life. As a slave soldier, he couldn't protect anyone. And today—the same ending again. All the same. Everyone I tried to protect, I lose. That certainty sank like stone to the bottom of his heart. Reon hugged his knees. He cried silently. Tears wet the rock. No sound came out. He didn't let it. But his shoulders shook. It wouldn't stop. This man crying—no one had ever seen it. Reon himself had lived that way his whole life. No time to cry. No reason to cry. But now, it wouldn't stop. For what. What am I living for. ＊ He didn't know how much time had passed. With trembling hands, he unconsciously gripped the edge of his coat. His fingers pulled the fabric tight. Then something that had been in his pocket spilled out onto the rock. A soft rustling sound. Reon looked up. On the rock lay a small ring. A bracelet woven from grass and thin branches, misshapen and frayed at the edges. The one Riri had made sitting on the ground in the abandoned village, struggling, never stopping her hands. The one she'd offered without meeting his eyes, without explanation. Reon slowly picked it up. He placed it in his palm. Clumsy weaving. Frayed thread ends. Grass bundles of uneven thickness. By any measure, it wasn't well-made. But—this imperfection made him imagine Riri's hands. Those slender fingers struggling, trying again, never giving up. A girl who had never given anything to anyone, creating something for someone for the first time. Tears spilled from Reon's eyes again. But these were different tears. Not despair. Something else was warming deep in his chest. He didn't know what to call it. But it was there, undeniably. This crooked ring was proof. His fingers closed around the bracelet. One more time. Words without sound took shape in his throat. One more time, I'll go protect her. His shoulder wound burned with heat. The right half of his body ached. And yet—slowly, Reon stood up. His legs trembled. He placed his hand on the rock. Still, he stood. ＊ Baldo must have sensed it. He emerged from behind the rocks. He looked at Reon's face and said nothing. He could see the tear marks, the hand gripping the bracelet—everything. But he said nothing. An uncharacteristic silence from Baldo. And he simply said this: "[serious]I'm coming too" Reon paused for a beat. "[cold]You don't have to die for this" Baldo's expression changed. Something that had always been beneath his cheerful demeanor surfaced. His golden eyes narrowed. His lips pressed firmly together once. The silver ring in his right ear caught the mountain light. "[angry]I don't want to end this without doing anything against the cult that killed my mother" There was anger in his voice. Quiet anger. Not his usual bright tone. Something he'd carried deep inside for so long. The boy who lost his mother to witch hunts, something he'd been pushing down in his chest, was now laid bare. Reon looked at Baldo's face. He said nothing. Baldo pulled a folded small memo from his pocket. "[serious]And—while you were unconscious, I sent a carrier pigeon" Reon's eyes moved slightly. "[serious]To the settlement comrades. Asking them to create a diversion at the outer walls heading toward the Holy City" He unfolded the memo. Hastily scrawled words covered it. "[serious]If the settlement moves, there might be gaps in the siege. It's a gamble to count on it, but——" His eyes didn't waver. He must be afraid. Yet his eyes didn't waver. Reon looked at the bracelet. The frayed grass ring in his clenched hand. Slowly, he wrapped it around his left wrist. Right over the old burn scars. "[cold]Let's go" A single, short word. Baldo nodded. The two began walking down the mountain path. Toward Felsen Holy City—the headquarters of the Nocturne Cult. A religious metropolis surrounded by white limestone walls. A fortress city where more than forty inquisitors were stationed. An impregnable stronghold. Two men alone had to reach it in a day and a half. There was no chance of victory anywhere. The mountain wind blew. The bracelet on Reon's left wrist swayed in the wind. The frayed thread ends fluttered faintly, delicately. The ridge of the Helden Mountains cut black against the western sky. Beyond it lay the Holy City. The time Riri had left was being carved away, moment by moment.