Nohr Aria's fingers, which had been pressing the edge of the gauze bandage, twitched to a halt. The man's chest moved. Slowly, but unmistakably. Something stirring beneath the skin—a quiet change. Aria kept the cloth pressed down and looked at his face. His closed eyes opened. Gray eyes—cold and sharp in color—gradually regained focus from their vacant haze. They had been directed at the ceiling at first, but slowly turned toward Aria. The sensation of being found brushed across her chest. The feeling of being looked directly at by the eyes of a complete stranger. The man seemed to grasp the situation in an instant. Where was he. Who was present. What state was his body in. He processed all of this swiftly even through the high fever—and the words that came out were these. "...Let go of your hand." Aria spent some time chewing on those words. Not gratitude. Not relief at being saved. Not confusion about where he was. The first thing to emerge was "let go of your hand." A man who would have bled out all over the ground by now if not for the gauze bandage wrapped around his flank—it was quite distinctive for those to be his first words. "If I let go, you'll die," Aria said, her tone clear but not without warmth. "The wound on your flank isn't fully closed yet. This cloth is here to apply pressure. If I let go, it'll open. If it opens, you'll bleed. In your body's current condition, that would be fatal." The man didn't answer. His gray eyes simply continued to observe Aria. A gaze that measured her, or perhaps appraised her—less hostile than calculating. (He's looking at me. Being cautious. That's natural.) "Can I ask your name?" Aria continued. "...Kael." "I'm Aria. Aria Nohr. The daughter of a former merchant from Hermia, the Free Trade City. I'm traveling at the moment." "Former, huh." It was a short response, but something was contained within it. A sign of intent not to let it pass unheard. Aria felt that as she carefully secured the edge of the gauze. Night preparations were necessary. --- Vas Forest—this deep forest spreading across the southern edge of the Orvean Kingdom had giant trees that absorbed *脈気* (the life force that filled the earth, which practitioners drew into their bodies and wielded), which made directional sense easy to lose. Even in daylight it was dim, and at night the light filtering through the trees nearly vanished. Aria had set up a small camp near a shrine because Kael's body had no margin to move further. A campfire burned. The smoke was a bit thick from using damp branches, but the warmth was sufficient. Aria took out her father's journal from her belongings and sat beside it. The cover was written in her father Yorn Nohr's handwriting: "Private Notes." The characters were meticulous. Only the last few pages had characters that trembled and scattered—where "The Shattered Blade" was recorded. Kael sat a short distance away, his back against a stone. He still couldn't move much. But his eyes were open, and instead of looking this way, they were directed toward the dark forest. As if he were vigilant about something, or listening for something— Aria opened the journal. She thought there were things she needed to explain. It would be better to talk than to let this man sleep alone. About the purpose of her journey. About who she was and where she was headed. "I'd like you to listen to something," Aria said. Kael turned his gaze toward her. He didn't say anything, but he seemed willing to listen. Aria held out the journal. "This is my father's journal. My father was Yorn Nohr, a merchant from Hermia. He died three months ago while traveling." There was a brief pause. "The Ashen Wastes—the desolate lands in the southern continent, turned to scorched earth by the Ashen Rift four hundred eighty years ago—my father was going there to search for something. 'The Shattered Blade,' an ancient blade that severs curses, is written about at the end of this journal. My father never reached it. I'm going there." Kael's hand, which had been holding the journal, stopped for just a moment. Aria saw it. Or rather, she was watching, though she didn't consciously register it. She simply continued. "I want to hire a guard. As for payment—I can't offer anything now. But if The Shattered Blade is found, it will have value. I'd like you to come along on that collateral. You're a swordsman, aren't you? I can tell from your wounds. If you're alive after injuries like these, you must be quite skilled." Kael turned a page of the journal. His gaze stopped for a moment on a certain line—a hastily scrawled passage with a place name related to the East Wing of the Jade Tower. The Jade Tower was a special facility established within the royal castle of the Orvean Kingdom, known as the training ground and headquarters of the "Jade Shield Corps," the queen consort's direct guard unit. The records of an incident from fifteen years ago involving that East Wing section were written in Yorn's journal with a level of detail unsuitable for a merchant. Kael's eyes lingered there for just a fraction of a second. It was a change so subtle only a careful observer would notice. "I refuse," Kael said flatly. He closed the journal and handed it back to Aria. "Can I ask why?" Aria asked. "It's unnecessary." "It's not unnecessary for me, though." Aria took the journal back and thought for a moment before continuing. "Debt and curse—if either could be lightened, it wouldn't be a bad deal, I think." The campfire crackled. Kael's hand stopped on the cloth. The choice of the word "curse" wasn't calculated. It was simply the word from the journal that came out. "A blade that severs curses"—that was the language of Aria's purpose, so it emerged from her lips. But for Kael, it seemed to land with a different meaning. There was a long silence. "...Not as a guard, but as a companion," Kael said quietly, in short words. He accepted, with just one condition attached. Aria received those words without immediately understanding their meaning. Guard versus companion—she didn't realize that the difference in those words meant something to this man until much later. --- From the next morning, the two began heading south through Vas Forest. The Ashen Wastes were still far away. The plan was to traverse the forest to its southern edge, gather supplies at Graden—a post town developed at Carle's Crossing, the ford point of the Edel River, about ninety kilometers southeast—and then head toward the outer edge of the Ashen Wastes. That was Aria's plan. Kael could walk. Slowly, but steadily, favoring his flank and putting one foot in front of the other with certainty. He held his sword in his left hand. In a position where he could use it at any moment, though still sheathed. Aria walked a step behind, occasionally glancing at his back. His black hair was cut short, with thin reddish streaks mixed in. His tall frame had presence even in the lightless green of the forest. From his right shoulder across his back, a pattern-like scar was visible even through his clothes—*脈痕*, Aria thought. The pattern that accumulated on the skin each time one wielded脈気 techniques. She found herself remembering the depth of the wounds she'd seen last night. (What was he fighting?) She couldn't ask. There had been opportunities, but she hadn't. There was a need to move forward before that, and besides—she had a certainty that even if she asked, this man wouldn't answer. The presence of the脈狼 began around midday. 脈狼—mutated脈気 wolves that inhabited Vas Forest. Beasts over 1.5 meters in body length, their脈気-wrapped bites could pierce even iron shields. They formed packs of five to eight, and for solitary travelers they were among the most feared creatures in the forest. What Aria sensed first wasn't a smell but a sound. The irregular sound of branches scraping from deep within the trees. Kael stopped first. "Fall back," he said. Just one word. His tone had changed. Different from the flat delivery until now—quiet, but with an undeniable hardness. Aria took two steps back. In that instant, six脈狼 appeared. They slid out from the shadows of the trees soundlessly. Their silver-gray fur, infused with脈気, glowed faintly. Their eyes were luminous—or rather, Aria understood that脈気 was burning in the depths of their eye sockets. She was seeing it for the first time, and her feet felt like they might lift from the ground. Six wolves formed a semicircle, surrounding Aria. Kael moved. Fast—or rather, without waste. There was no unnecessary motion. Drawing the sword, stepping forward, tracing an arc. Three movements became one flow. Before the first wolf could pounce, the sword's point caught its neck. The second came from the side. Kael's body shifted half a step. He barely evaded the bite, then drove a slash powered by his full weight into it. The third tried to circle around and strike at Kael's back. Kael didn't turn—without looking back, he thrust his sword behind him. Three wolves fell. The remaining three maintained distance, growling. Aria had drawn her short sword. She didn't know if she could use it, but it was better than doing nothing. The wolves' eyes glowed. They were looking at her. But the wolves didn't advance. Perhaps they understood—that three had fallen in an instant. They kept growling, then backed away, and eventually disappeared into the trees. The forest became quiet. Aria lowered her short sword and exhaled long. Kael wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it. During that motion, Aria watched continuously. The form of the sword—the movement of his body. The "印形"—the integrated form of脈気 techniques and swordplay used by the Jade Shield Corps, the queen consort's direct guard unit. Its remnants were evident in the sword stroke she'd just witnessed. But what Aria noticed first wasn't that brilliance. During the battle, Kael's脈痕 hadn't increased. He was consciously restraining his use of脈気—with his exhausted body, he'd handled it with swordplay alone. That came first. More than the impression of strength came the impression of exhaustion. --- The campfire burned again that night. A bit further south, deeper into Vas Forest. Tree roots rose from the ground. Where the firelight didn't reach, the darkness of the trees loomed like a thick wall. Aria sat beside Kael with bandages in hand. She needed to check the gauze she'd wrapped last night. A day of travel and combat might have changed its condition. "Let me see," she said. "It's fine," Kael replied. "Even if it's fine, it matters to me. You'd be a burden if it got worse." There was a brief pause. Kael didn't turn his face, but extended his arm. A moment of resistance, then minimal permission. Aria rolled up his sleeve. From wrist to elbow, her fingers traced across the skin. She checked the bandage's condition while searching for the wound's location with her fingertips. There was body heat. A bit warm, but better than last night—such thoughts occupied her as her fingers moved. Kael's arm reflexively pulled back. Aria's hand followed, or rather, kept holding it. "Don't move," she said. Kael stopped. It wasn't from pain, Aria intuited. If it were pain, the withdrawal would be different. This was—something else. A rejection from somewhere much deeper, against being touched. Aria searched for a light remark. In times like this, easing the atmosphere came from something funny. "You won't die just from having a wound touched. Usually," she said. Kael said nothing. Aria rolled his sleeve up further to rewrap the bandage. From wrist to elbow. From elbow, further up. The firelight illuminated the pattern on his skin. Aria's fingers stopped. From neck to shoulder, from shoulder to the inner side of the upper arm, spreading across—old脈痕. The full extent of the pattern she'd glimpsed when treating yesterday's wound was now visible. It covered more than half his body, perhaps. She'd heard that