The corpse twitched once before it dissolved into black ash, vanishing into the wind like it had never existed.
Aicha stared at the spot where the creature had fallen. Her fingers trembled against her wheelchair's armrests. It hadn't even screamed in death—just ceased. Snuffed out.
Asari stood still, hand lowered, steam rising from his fingers. The blood had evaporated upon contact. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes—those split-colored eyes—were focused on something far beyond the ruins.
"You're different," Aicha whispered. "Stronger than ever. But also… colder."
He turned toward her, the wind brushing strands of white hair across his face. "I had to become this."
She met his gaze. "To survive?"
"To destroy."
The silence that followed was heavy. No birds. No insects. Only the wind.
Aicha wheeled forward, trying to breathe through the suffocating air left by the creature's death. "What was that thing?"
"A remnant," Asari said. "Something buried beneath this land. It fed on time, on forgotten grief. It only woke up because something disturbed it."
She looked around the blackened village. "The attack?"
He nodded once. "Someone wanted to awaken it. Or test if it would awaken for me."
She flinched. "You mean this… was for you?"
"They left it behind like bait." His eyes narrowed. "And I took it."
Aicha's stomach turned. "What kind of person does that?"
"The same kind who let Saelan grow unchecked." Asari's voice had steel beneath it. "The same kind who watched the academy rot from inside."
Aicha looked down. She knew the truth, but hearing him say it out loud made it harder to ignore.
"What now?" she asked.
"We leave Dummer."
She blinked. "What?"
"This continent's finished," he said simply. "I've seen what it offers. It gave me strength once. Now it tries to take it back with ghosts and whispers. I won't let it."
Aicha frowned. "But where will we go?"
"There are other lands. Stronger enemies. Old debts to settle."
She hesitated, then asked the one thing that had haunted her for years. "Are you… going to start killing again?"
Asari looked at her for a long moment.
Then, quietly: "Only the ones who deserve it."
She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
"Then I'm coming with you."
"You're still in a wheelchair," he pointed out.
"And you're still half-naked," she shot back. "We all carry something."
He actually laughed. A small sound, brief and sharp, but real.
They stood like that for a moment—her seated in her chair among ash and silence, him standing bare in the wind, cloakless and grim. It wasn't a reunion. It was the start of something else.
"Let's move," he said again, voice quieter.
She nodded, spinning her wheels.
Together, they left the village.
But not far.
Because a figure waited beyond the ridge.
Wrapped in cloth, faceless beneath a hood. Motionless.
Aicha froze. "Is that—?"
"Yes," Asari replied. "I sensed him the moment we arrived."
The figure spoke with a voice like sliding stones. "So, you really did wake up. The whispers were true."
Asari tilted his head. "You came alone?"
"I am the last of the Seven Enforcers," the figure said. "There are no more laws to enforce."
"What do you want?" Asari asked.
"To watch."
"That's all?"
"And to warn you." The figure took a step forward. "Something followed you back from that pool."
Asari's face darkened. "I know."
The figure nodded once. "Good. Then you'll understand what I mean when I say: this world may no longer be yours to save."
"Was it ever?" Asari asked.
"No," the enforcer said. "But you tried. And now… it's watching."
With that, the figure vanished into dust, scattered on the wind like the monster before him.
Aicha let out a shaky breath. "What was that?"
"An echo," Asari muttered. "Of the old order."
She looked at him, concerned. "And what does that mean for us?"
He looked up at the gray sky. "That we're already late."
As they walked deeper into the woods, a sound followed them—subtle, like soft footsteps out of sync with their own. A whisper of something not yet shaped.
Aicha shivered. "Do you hear that?"
"Yes," Asari replied. "It's begun."
The trees grew denser, the world darker, and behind them, the ashes of West Hollow were swept away by the rising wind.
They did not look back.
The devil had stepped into the world once more—and the world, already cracking, held its breath.