The afternoon sun spilled across the winding dirt path, warm and golden after seven endless days trapped beneath cold stone. Luca and his companions walked together in silence, their bodies bruised and weary but their spirits strangely light. Their traveling clothes were torn, smeared with ash and dried blood, but the breeze on their faces felt like a blessing—soft, alive, and free.

Kyle stretched his arms wide, groaning dramatically as he tilted his head toward the sky. "Ahhh—finally! Real air! I swear, if I saw one more rock wall, I was going to marry it."

A chuckle rippled through the group.

Selena walked a few steps behind, leaning on her staff for support. Her snow-white hair clung to her damp cheeks, but for the first time in days, her shoulders eased. The sunlight glinted faintly off her tired eyes, melting away the sharp focus she'd carried throughout the dungeon. Lilliane trailed beside her, brushing her fingers through her tangled hair, her lips curling into a small, almost dazed smile as she murmured, "We can finally rest…"

Even Sylthara—usually composed to a fault—let out a quiet exhale. The shadowy aura that always seemed to follow her flickered softer, almost content, as if even the darkness she wielded was relieved to feel daylight again.

Aurelia pushed a strand of her crimson hair from her face and slowed her pace beside Luca. The faintest smile touched her lips as she glanced at him. "Thank you for that technique," she said quietly.

Luca kept his gaze ahead, expression unreadable. "What are you thanking me for? It was a team effort."

"Hmm." Aurelia tilted her head, eyes glinting playfully. "Is that so?" Her voice laced with mischief as she added, "Then why do I feel like you knew exactly what was in that box before we even opened it?"

Luca's reply was calm, his tone steady as his eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. "Let's focus on getting fresh for now," he said simply.

Aurelia's smirk widened slightly. "Deflecting, are we?" But she let it go, matching his stride with a soft hum.

They followed the path until the thick trees thinned and the view opened into a small settlement nestled at the base of the valley. Wooden houses lined a narrow cobblestone street, smoke stacks rising lazily from brick chimneys—except… none of them moved.

The group's pace slowed.

Kyle was the first to notice the silence. "Huh?" He frowned, scanning the still village. "Where is everyone? Shouldn't we at least hear a few voices? A market bell? Something?"

Selena's steps faltered. She looked around, brows knitting together. "It's… too quiet," she whispered. "No footsteps. No carts. Not even animals."

Lilliane clutched the strap of her satchel tighter. The wind rustled through hanging laundry, the faint creak of a sign swinging above a tavern door echoing in the emptiness.

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck impatiently. "What's going on here? Did they abandon the place or what?"

No one answered.

Luca stopped mid-step. The faint sunlight caught in his silver eyes as his expression hardened, instincts kicking in. He scanned the rooftops, the corners of the alleys, the unmoving doors. His grip unconsciously tightened on his twin sabers.

"Something's wrong," he muttered.

The breeze shifted—cold, unnatural—and for the first time since leaving the dungeon, the lightness in the group's hearts began to fade.

Luca's voice cut through the tense air, low and sharp.

"Be alert."

The command was quiet, but it carried the weight of steel. Every one of them straightened instantly—hands shifting to weapons, senses stretching outward like drawn wires. The earlier lightheartedness was gone; the easy smiles, the fatigue, the talk of rest—all replaced by a palpable unease that clung to the air like fog.

Selena's eyes glimmered faintly with mana, scanning for any magical presence. Lilliane whispered a soft detection spell under her breath. Even Sylthara's shadow seemed to deepen, swirling faintly around her boots, ready to spring into motion at the faintest sign of threat.

Kyle rolled his shoulders once, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found. "I'll go ahead and scout," he said, already stepping forward, spear in hand.

Luca nodded once. "Don't go too far."

But Kyle only raised a hand in acknowledgment as he jogged off, disappearing down the empty street between the still houses.

The group waited in silence. The faint rustle of the wind through the wooden shutters was the only sound that answered. Every creak, every flutter of loose cloth felt louder than it should have been.

Minutes stretched.

Selena's grip on her staff tightened. "He should've been back by now," she murmured.

Aurelia frowned. "Knowing Kyle, he probably found something to loot first—"

Before she could finish, a blur of movement appeared down the road.

Kyle.

He was running—fast. Too fast.

When he came into view, they saw his face—ashen, eyes wide, lips trembling. His spear dragged behind him, the tip scraping against the cobblestone, leaving a faint line of sparks.

Luca's stomach dropped. "Kyle?"

Kyle stumbled to a stop in front of them, panting heavily. His voice came out uneven, almost shaking.

"E-everyone should… come with me," he said quietly.

That tone. That trembling edge.

None of them had ever heard Kyle sound like that.

He was the loud one, the reckless one—the kind who laughed in the face of monsters.

But now, his voice barely rose above a whisper.

No one questioned him.

They followed without a word.

As they moved deeper into the village, the air grew heavier. The scent hit first—thick, metallic, and unmistakable. Selena's expression froze, the faint spark of light around her dimming. Lilliane's hand rose instinctively to cover her mouth.

Then they saw it.

The open square.

And the world stopped.

Bodies. Dozens—no, hundreds—of them.

Men, women, elders, children.

Piled, scattered, strewn across the stone street like discarded dolls.

Some burned beyond recognition, blackened limbs twisted mid-reach. Others… missing parts. Arms. Legs. Heads. The earth beneath them soaked dark crimson, dried to a dull brown. Charred smoke still curled from where entire houses had collapsed inward, burying whoever had tried to flee.

A doll—small and cracked—lay near a child's body, its glass eyes shattered.

Lilliane staggered back, her knees trembling, breath choking in her throat. "N-No…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "This… this can't…"

Selena's staff slipped from her hands and hit the ground with a dull clatter. Her eyes—usually sharp and composed—were wide, reflecting the ruin before her.

Aurelia's hands clenched so tightly around her spear that her knuckles went white. Her lips parted as if to speak, but no words came—only a faint tremor of disbelief and fury.

Sylthara stood still. Too still. The faintest quiver in her shadow was the only sign of the storm beneath her calm exterior.

Kyle fell silent. His mouth opened—then closed again. The earlier panic was gone, replaced by a hollow stare.

Luca…

Luca said nothing.

He stood rooted, his body rigid, his eyes scanning the devastation with quiet horror. His fists tightened slowly until his gloves creaked. The weight of it all—the stench, the silence, the loss—pressed against his chest like an iron hand.

His mind screamed for logic, for reason, for something that could explain this.

But there was nothing.

Only death.

The wind blew again, and with it came the faint, bitter scent of ash and burnt flesh.

Luca closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the calm light within was gone—replaced by something sharp, cold, and resolute.

Something terrible had happened here.

And someone had done it.

"Stay close," he said quietly, his voice steady again—but beneath it, a quiet fury began to rise.

A faint sound broke the silence.

Thud.

Everyone froze.

Selena's head snapped toward the noise, her eyes narrowing. Aurelia raised her spear, aura coiling around her like a pulse of warning. Sylthara's shadow spread wider, twitching with anticipation, while Lilliane's lips quivered as she whispered a trembling spell under her breath—ready to shield, not strike.

"...Over there," Kyle muttered, his voice barely audible, pointing toward a half-collapsed barn near the edge of the village.

The group moved carefully, steps deliberate, weapons drawn but low. The scent of blood grew stronger. Wind whispered through broken beams, and in that whisper came something else—breathing. Shallow. Trembling. Fragile.

Luca raised a hand, signaling silence. His boots crunched lightly over charred hay as he approached the source of the sound. A toppled cart leaned against the barn wall, its wood splintered and blackened. Beneath it, half-hidden under torn cloth and ash, something shivered.

Luca knelt. His fingers hesitated for just a moment—then he pushed the debris aside.

There, curled up in the hollow between the boards, was a little girl. No older than six. Her skin was streaked with soot and blood; her dress torn and clinging to her small frame. Tangled strands of light brown hair stuck to her tear-streaked face. Her tiny hands were pressed tightly over her ears, as if trying to block out the world.

The moment the light touched her, she screamed.

"D-don't hurt me! Please don't—!" Her voice cracked, high and broken. "I didn't do anything! I'll be good, I promise, I'll be good—! Don't—!"

Her words came in bursts, breathless and desperate, the sound of a soul who'd seen too much. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, tears leaking through. "M-Mother… where are you? Mama… please—wake up! I can't… I can't see—"

Her voice broke into sobs so raw it made Selena flinch, her hand flying to her chest.

Luca froze, heart pounding. The world blurred around that small, shaking form. He slowly lowered his weapons, then crouched lower, his voice quiet—barely a whisper.

"It's okay… hey… no one's going to hurt you."

But the girl only shook harder, backing away until her head bumped the wood behind her. "No! No more fire—no more screaming—please! I don't want to see them again!"

As everyone could only stare thinking, What she had experienced? What she had….lost?

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