Grey woke with a violent inhale.
For a moment, he didn't know where he was.
The air was warm.
Too warm.
Canvas and cloth replaced stone and ash. The ceiling above him was low, swaying faintly, like the belly of some enormous beast.
His body jolted upright—
And the memory surfaced.
Those eyes.
That whisper.
Flesh…
His stomach lurched. Dizziness rolled through him like a tide, thick and nauseating. His hands trembled as he pressed his palm against his forehead, trying to calm himself.
But the terror in his eyes hadn't fully faded.
It lingered.
Like something had left fingerprints inside his skull.
His breath came shallow.
Then he noticed—
The cold was gone.
The volcanic suffocation, the sulfur… all of it had vanished.
And so had she.
"Elsa…"
The name left his lips before he could stop it.
He scanned his surroundings and realise he was inside a tent...
Lying on a luxurious bed
The bed beneath him wasn't truly luxurious—not in any noble sense—but compared to sleeping on broken rock inside the Mirror Realm…
It was paradise.
A real mattress.
Blankets.
Even a pillow.
For a second, that alone almost made him sink back into the bed.
He swung his legs over the side and stood, ignoring the way his knees protested.
The tent was larger than it had seemed. Lanterns hung from wooden poles, casting a dim amber glow. Crates lined the walls. Weapons. Supplies. Maps.
It was like a base or something.
Grey pushed aside the tent flap—
And stepped out.
The world beyond was… alive.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of people moved through rows of tents and barricades. Armored figures. Hunters. Mercenaries. Some sat sharpening blades. Others murmured over fires.
A war camp.
The air was thick with tension, like everyone was waiting for something to break.
The moment Grey emerged, eyes turned.
Not hostile.
Not welcoming.
Just… curious.
As if they were watching a strange animal crawl out of the woods.
Whispers followed him like smoke.
He felt them measuring him.
Judging.
No one approached him.
Until a quiet footsteps crunched behind him.
Grey turned.
A man was standing behind him with just a step away...
He was tall and slim, with neatly combed brown hair and a face carved into something sharp and unreadable. His clothes were clean, almost too clean for a camp like this.
His gaze swept over Grey from head to toe.
Clinical.
Cold.
As though assessing damage on a weapon.
Then he spoke.
His voice held no emotion.
"I am glad to see you are alive."
'Do you? You certainly don't look like it' Grey thought but didn't say anything
The man's eyes flickered, And for the briefest instant, something cracked across his perfectly composed expression—
Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, his face returning to its emotionless mask.
He then turned slightly.
"Come."
He paused.
"Lady Elsa is expecting you."
Grey's brow furrowed.
'Lady?'
The word felt strange beside her name.
Elsa was many things—cold, merciless, terrifying…
But lady was not one of them.
Still, he nodded.
The man began walking, and Grey followed.
They moved through the camp.
Up close, Grey could see more.
Sigils carved into steel.
Strange banners fluttering above command tents.
None of them belonged to the Seven Great Guilds.
Grey knew their crests.
Because the originally grey memorised all the symbols of the Seven Houses long ago.
But what truly caught his attention…
Wasn't the banners.
It was the people.
Everywhere he looked, they were different.
A single glance was enough to tell—they were not ordinary humans.
People with scars that didn't come from beasts alone.
Some of them weren't even fully human.
A woman with eyes like a blood-red moon—and a foxlike tail swaying behind her.
A man whose shadow moved half a heartbeat too late, as if reality struggled to keep up with him.
Grey's eyes sharpened.
Awakened…
Every single one of them.
His instincts screamed louder with every step.
This wasn't a refuge.
This wasn't a camp.
It was a staging ground.
A place prepared for war.
The only question was—what kind of horror were they preparing to fight?
Finnaly
The man led him toward the largest tent at the center of the base.
And the air around it felt heavier than the rest.
Two guards stood outside, faces hidden beneath helms of black iron.
The air around that tent felt heavier.
As if the world itself was holding its breath.
The man stopped.
He didn't announce Thier entry.
He just simply pulled the flap aside.
"Go in."
Grey hesitated.
The memory of blood-red eyes burned in his mind.
And Then—
He stepped forward.
And entered.