Sukamu froze for a moment, a sudden realization striking him like a blade across the chest. In the heat of chaos, he had abandoned his prayer—the sacred devotional he never once missed.

His lips parted slightly, and a faint shiver ran through his hands. It was not the trembling of fear, but of guilt pressing against his heart.

Vivi noticed. Her eyes, wide with worry, searched his face. She asked in a voice almost trembling, "Uncle… what happened? Did you lose something?"

For a breath, Sukamu could not answer. The firelight flickered across his weary expression as if even the flames were waiting. Finally, he shook his head, slow and heavy.

"I forgot…" His voice was rough, almost cracking. "I forgot to complete today's prayer at the temple. My devotion… I left it behind."His eyes lifted, stern and unwavering despite the regret etched on his face."But how could I walk away? How could I leave you children near death, alone in this cursed place? If the gods wished me to choose, then perhaps this is my fate tonight—not to kneel in prayer, but to stand and protect. To make sure you live."

A silence stretched for a breath, and then—

The town erupted.

From the direction of Ramuza's quarters came the sound of chaos. Feet rushing, doors slamming open, voices rising. The people had seen it—the downfall of Ramuza himself. The so-called holy priests, the saintly family, were dragged screaming into what could only be described as the mouth of hell.

A flood of villagers poured into the streets, forming a mass that pulsed with anger and grief. Torches lit, casting long shadows across stone walls. The ground itself seemed to tremble under the weight of so many steps.

Women's cries pierced the air. Mothers collapsed against each other, clutching torn robes, their tears staining the dirt below. Their wails were not just grief—they were curses spat into the night.

"All because of those children! "Five children… and our families are gone! "They shattered everything!"

Voices rose like waves crashing against a rock.

"Was it worth it? Tell us! Was it worth slaughtering so many?!"Our holy blood! Our saints! Who dares to commit such a crime? Who carries sin this heavy?"

The crowd's grief twisted, knotting into anger, and that anger swelled into fury. A thousand throats howled, the sound raw and merciless. The night air thickened as though the sorrow itself was alive, pressing down on the town until breathing felt like inhaling smoke.

And within that storm of mourning and rage, one truth echoed in every heart: The line between the holy and the damned had been broken—by five children.

Vivi's voice came out thin, barely cutting through the cold. "They killed Jerry… and we killed them all. Did we do right, Auren? Did we do right, Nyra?"

She stared into nothing—eyes fixed on some far place where grief lived. Calm sat on her face like a mask, but under it a hollow ran deep; a single tear escaped, slid down her cheek, caught by falling snow. Her skin looked pale under the white, as if the winter itself had taken the color from her.

Everything in her wanted an answer. Did we do right? If the answer were yes—if killing was the right path—then she would not call herself Phantom any longer. "Go," she felt like saying. "Kill. Win." Whether it was justice or sin, it would be the same. That thought trembled through her words like a knife.

Her gaze locked on Auren. The question came softer, but heavier than any shout: "When did you become like this, Auren? Is this what you always wanted—to be a murderer?"

The words hung between them, raw and honest, like open wounds. Snow whispered down around the three of them, and for a moment, the world held its breath.

Auren grinned, a corner of his mouth cutting through the frozen air."We killed many," he said, voice low, rough like stone. "I know that. I don't even know where this rage came from, but it came. Seeing those men—playing with the innocent—always made something inside me snap."

He stepped forward; snow cracked under his boots. His tone crawled up, slow and a little broken."Do you know, Vivi, how I lived my life? Where kids used to beat me, kick me, treat me like nothing? Even my father, my brothers—ignored I existed. Watching my blood on the streets became routine. They tore my clothes, made me naked, played with me like I was a toy."

Auren's fists tightened, knuckles whitening, breath coming out in sharp bursts. "There was one thing I always wanted—one thing: respect. Peace. To be someone. To make people look at me." He laughed then, bitter and small. "But now I understand myself. What I want is simple: happiness, friends, and justice—for beings like Jerry. Even if Jerry meant nothing to me… I still fought for him."

A shadow crossed his face, sorrow loud in the silence. "Why? Is he my brother? No. But I understand pain." His voice cracked, chest trembling as if the memory weighed him down. "How can they kill someone who doesn't look 'normal'? Huh." His voice hardened. "And you—showing sympathy for them, Vivi. We are Phantom. We will fight anyone who dares to do that."

Vivi's lips trembled before her words tore out, sharp, raw. "What makes you think everyone we killed was like that? What if there were pure-hearted people among them—people who were holding their families together?"

Her shoulders shook, breaths hitching as tears streamed down. "You are not God, Auren. You can't know everything. You're just boiling blood—rampage without thought."

She wiped her face with shaky hands, chest heaving up and down, each sob jerking her body. Snowflakes clung to her lashes, melting into the tears. "I almost fell for your words once," she whispered, voice breaking. "I almost believed. But now I suffer." Her scream split the cold air, trembling with grief. "You are the reason they started fighting without thinking. There is something in your voice that makes everyone follow."

The silence that followed was heavier than any scream. The night wind pressed against them, carrying away their breath but not their wounds, leaving the question hanging—raw, bleeding, unanswered.

*

After Vivi spoke, Auren fell into a blank, hollow silence. Questions clawed at him like claws at bone—What if there were good people in there? Did I do wrong? How did I lead everyone into sin? Memories crashed through him: the women's cries inside that giant house, the ragged sobs for fathers, brothers, husbands, children. The priestly families had lost their men because of his decision. The thought burned him raw.

Panic swallowed him. His palm trembled against Zarkis's warm fur. He felt numb, dizzy, as if the world had tilted and left him behind. Vivi sat beside him, tears spilling down, mourning what she had supported. Nyra sat too, frozen, her face stained with salt tracks of grief.

Then Sukamu laughed—thin at first, then steady, almost gentle.

"Kids… kids," he said, voice soft in the cold. "You think you did nothing? No, you did what was written long ago. The age of Ramuza had to end. Five children would come and finish it."

His eyes glittered with a strange fire. "Ramuza was not innocent. He was one of the culprits of the Grand Era. Our tribe, Vincentia, suffered too. You think every face in that hall was pure? Let me clear this for you: they were not. They did heinous things across the lands. They were tied to the Tideborn—Vaiven. Tideborn is terror itself."

Sukamu's voice dropped, heavy as a stone. "Vaslimo and his family once commanded Vaiven's ship. They did horrors you cannot imagine."

He looked at Auren, and for the first time, the old man's tone sharpened into warning. "But Auren—be careful. Don't jump into things without thought. Think, act wisely. And you, little girl—dry your tears. This path is cruel, but it was not born from your whim."

Auren looked at Vivi, and for the first time, the flood of emotion he had been holding back threatened to break free. His lips trembled, and tears pooled in his eyes, refusing to be restrained any longer. He also noticed Nyra, silent, her gaze fixed on Dax, who rested on her lap, breathing slowly but surely. Nova lay in front of him, eyes open now, the rise and fall of his chest steady.

Auren's arms widened instinctively, enveloping them all in a warm, protective hug beneath the falling snow. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life, needing to hold them close, to anchor himself in the fragile, precious safety of friendship.

Sukamu's lips curved into a gentle smile, watching the scene unfold. "Go, Phantom," he said, his voice carrying both pride and relief.

The snow fell heavier around them, sparkling in the cold light, as if the world itself blessed their unity.

They reached Nova's place. After burden of blood.

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