The first thing Utsuki noticed was warmth.
A narrow beam of sunlight had slipped quietly through the tall window of the library and stretched across the room like a silent visitor, its golden light cutting through the dim air until it finally reached her face, resting gently against her closed eyelids as if patiently waiting for her to wake.
She stirred slightly.
Then she opened her eyes.
The wooden ceiling of the library greeted her first, its dark beams stretching across the room like the ribs of some ancient creature that had long ago fallen asleep beneath the weight of time. For a few seconds she simply stared at it, blinking slowly while her thoughts gathered themselves piece by piece.
"…Morning already…"
Her voice was soft, barely more than a breath.
The memory of the previous night returned gradually.
They had waited.
All of them.
The hours had passed slowly, conversations growing quieter as exhaustion claimed them one after another until the library had turned into an improvised shelter .
They had been waiting for Toki.
Utsuki pushed herself upright.
And that was when she noticed something strange.
A blanket rested over her shoulders.
It was thick, warm, carefully tucked around her arms as though someone had taken their time making sure she would not wake from the cold.
Her brows drew together.
"…That's odd."
She did not remember anyone bringing blankets.
Her eyes moved slowly around the room.
Suzume was still asleep , her head leaning slightly to one side while Hana rested safely in her arms, the little girl curled into her like a small bird hiding beneath a wing. A blanket had been wrapped around both of them.
Across the room, the long couch had become a chaotic pile of sleeping limbs where Haru, Natsu, and Aki had collapsed sometime during the night. They were tangled together in a way that made it nearly impossible to tell whose arm belonged to whom, yet even they had been covered carefully with another thick blanket.
Even Ozvold, who had apparently fallen asleep leaning against one of the bookshelves with his arms still crossed stubbornly over his chest, now had a blanket draped awkwardly across his shoulders.
Utsuki frowned.
"…Who did this?"
The room remained silent.
Only the slow rhythm of breathing filled the air, the quiet sounds of sleep blending with the faint whisper of wind outside the windows.
Then something else caught her attention.
The small table in the center of the room.
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
The plate.
She remembered placing it there the night before after the others had started to fall asleep one by one. A single cookie had rested there, nothing special, just a small gesture she had made without thinking too much.
Just in case Toki came back late.
But now—
The cookie was gone.
In its place sat a small folded piece of paper.
For a moment Utsuki simply stared at it, her mind trying to understand what she was seeing.
Then she slowly stood up.
Her movements were careful, almost instinctively quiet as she stepped across the wooden floor, making sure none of the others would wake. The boards creaked faintly beneath her weight, but no one stirred.
She reached the table.
The paper was small.
She picked it up and unfolded it.
The moment her eyes touched the handwriting, she recognized it.
The message itself was short.
Almost absurdly short.
Thank you for the cookie.
Utsuki blinked.
"…What?"
She read it again.
Then she looked at the empty plate.
Then back at the note.
Her expression slowly shifted from confusion to mild disbelief.
"…Why would you even write that…"
Out of all the things Toki could have left behind—warnings, instructions, explanations—he had chosen to thank her for a cookie.
Just a cookie.
Utsuki folded the note slowly, her fingers lingering on the paper for a moment longer than necessary.
"…You idiot."
There was no anger in her voice.
Only warmth.
She glanced toward the window again.
The sun had begun to climb higher now, its light spreading gradually across the library floor.
Something felt different.
She couldn't explain why.
But deep inside her chest, something had already begun to tighten.
Far away, in the capital, the atmosphere could not have been more different.
Two hundred soldiers stood assembled in the great courtyard of the palace, their formation so precise that it looked less like a gathering of men and more like the rigid structure. Boots rested firmly against the stone ground, armor plates caught faint glimmers of the dimming daylight, and the air between them carried the quiet tension that always appeared before something terrible was about to begin.
At the very front stood Toki.
His posture was relaxed, almost deceptively calm as he looked over the rows of faces staring back at him.
Behind him, Umma shifted her massive talons against the stone floor, her golden eyes studying the gathered soldiers with curious intelligence as she tilted her head slightly, as if trying to understand why so many humans had gathered in one place with such serious expressions.
Two hundred pairs of eyes waited for Toki to speak.
He inhaled slowly.
Then he stepped forward.
"Today," he began, his voice calm but carrying easily across the courtyard, "is the day we save the capital."
Every soldier remained perfectly still.
"Today is the day we take fate into our own hands," he continued, a faint smile forming at the corner of his lips, "and do something so incredibly stupid that history will remember us either as the greatest heroes who ever lived… or the greatest idiots this world has ever seen."
A ripple of quiet amusement passed through the formation.
Then Toki's expression sharpened.
"Today we are not the Fourth Division."
He raised his arm slightly.
"Today… we are the Army of the Dead Man."
For half a second the courtyard remained silent.
Then the soldiers erupted.
"YES SIR!"
Two hundred voices crashed together like thunder against the palace walls, the sound echoing through the entire courtyard with such force that even the banners hanging from the towers trembled slightly in the wind.
Servants rushed forward immediately afterward, carrying equipment that had been prepared in advance. Large shields were distributed to the soldiers while stable workers led forward dozens of massive birds—creatures similar to Umma, though slightly smaller—each one strong enough to carry a rider across the capital.
As the soldiers began preparing their gear, three figures approached Toki from behind.
Smith adjusted his jacket slightly before speaking.
"Everything is ready."
Bernard folded his arms, his expression less calm.
"We couldn't find Reginald anywhere."
Toki did not look surprised.
In fact, somewhere deep inside his mind, he smiled.
Of course they hadn't found him.
Because Reginald wasn't hiding.
He was waiting.
"The eclipse is approaching," Toki said simply, lifting his gaze toward the sky.
And as if the world itself had been listening—
The city moved like a living machine.
Bernard's men spread through the streets.
Harold's soldiers evacuated civilians from houses and markets.
Doors slammed.
Carts rolled.
Children cried as families rushed toward safe zones.
The capital had no idea what was about to arrive.
Already standing in the plaza—
Was Reginald.
Bernard's patience snapped immediately.
He grabbed Reginald by the collar and slammed him against the fountain.
"Where the hell were you?!"
Reginald said nothing.
His eyes were calm.
He gently removed Bernard's hand from his collar.
The gesture alone made Bernard's blood boil.
Toki watched quietly.
There was sadness in his gaze.
The clock tower struck noon.
The sound echoed across the capital.
One...
Two....
Three....
Until the twelfth strike rang out like a signal.
The sky darkened.
Not gradually.
Not gently.
It was as though someone had pulled a curtain across the sun.
The eclipse had begun.
A familiar smell spread through the plaza.
Rot.
Blood.
Decay.
The miasma.
Several soldiers instinctively covered their mouths as the sickening scent filled the air, yet something strange happened.
No one lost control.
Because beneath of the plaza, hidden carefully throughout the entire area, Toki's crystals had already been placed.
Toki raised his voice.
"FORMATION!"
Two hundred soldiers snapped to attention.
"MOVE TO THE GATES!"
The army split instantly into four divisions and sprinted toward the capital gates.
Reginald watched them go.
A small smile appeared.
"…You still haven't learned, Toki."
While the others were distracted by the sudden darkness, Reginald stepped calmly toward the fountain in the center of the plaza and removed a small red flask from inside his coat.
Without hesitation, he poured its contents into the water.
The surface began to ripple.
From within the dark water, a familiar figure slowly rose.
Rosalin.
Her pale form emerged like a ghost climbing out of a grave, her blue eyes immediately locking onto Toki with unsettling intensity.
"Have you reconsidered my offer?" she asked sweetly.
Toki did not hesitate.
"Go to hell, witch."
Rosalin sighed softly.
"Then I suppose I'll have to convince you by force."
She reached out.
And touched Reginald.
What followed could hardly be called a transformation.
It was a violation.
Their bodies twisted together instantly, bones cracking as flesh stretched and tore in grotesque directions while muscle fused with muscle and skin split apart like wet cloth being ripped by invisible hands. Reginald's scream echoed through the plaza for a moment before it twisted into something else—laughter, perhaps, though distorted beyond recognition.
"I'm sorry," his voice echoed from within the writhing mass, warped and uneven.
"But Rosalin… is all I need in this world."
The monstrous shape grew larger.
Bones reshaped.
Wings tore violently through layers of flesh.
Blood poured across the stone fountain as the creature continued expanding, its body reorganizing itself into something terrible.
When the transformation finally ended—
A dragon stood where the fountain had been.
Its red scales reflected the dim eclipse light like oil on water, and its massive wings unfolded slowly as its crimson eyes burned with something that could no longer be called human.
Toki's voice cut through the silence.
"BOYS!"
Bernard and Harold turned instantly.
"HOLD IT HERE!"
Before anyone could respond, Toki had already mounted Umma.
Bernard's eyes widened.
"Wait—where are you going?!"
Toki grabbed the saddle tightly.
"To get the weapon I promised you!"
The dragon roared and moved to pursue him—
But two figures stepped forward.
Both drew their swords.
Bernard smirked.
"You heard him."
Harold rolled his shoulders.
"Let's buy him some time."
Bernard could already feel the mana in the air resisting him, interfering with the natural flow of energy like invisible chains tightening around his abilities.
Still—
He began to sing.
His voice was quiet at first.
Almost like a whisper.
"In the depths of despair… hope takes root."
The ground exploded.
Gigantic roots burst upward from the stone streets like living spears, twisting and climbing toward the dragon in thick spirals as they wrapped around its legs and wings in an attempt to restrain the enormous beast.
The dragon answered with fire.
A torrent of scorching flames engulfed the roots, burning through them layer by layer as wood turned to ash and smoke filled the darkened sky.
Bernard wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
Then he smiled wider.
"Oh don't worry…"
More roots burst from the ground.
"I've got plenty of verses left."
"…you ugly bastard."....
Toki did not slow down when the palace came into view.
Umma struck the stone courtyard like a falling shadow, her talons scraping across marble as guards leapt aside in shock. The great bird barely folded her wings before Toki urged her forward again, straight toward the towering entrance of the royal palace.
There was no time to waste.
No time to explain.
The corridors swallowed them whole.
The servants screamed and pressed themselves against the walls as the massive war-bird thundered through the palace halls, her claws clattering violently against polished stone floors that had never been meant to endure such abuse. Tapestries trembled from the gust of her wings. Golden chandeliers swayed overhead.
But Toki did not care.
His eyes burned with a feverish determination that had long since crossed the border between courage and insanity.
Behind him, the distant echoes of battle already began to rumble across the capital. Even through the thick palace walls he could almost hear it—the roar of the dragon, the clash of steel, the shouts of men who were buying him time with their lives.
Hold on, he thought.
Just a little longer.
Umma burst through the final hallway like a hurricane and slammed into the enormous doors of the throne room, sending them flying inward with a thunderous crack.
Inside, the air was heavy with tension.
King Mathias stood near the throne, his royal cloak draped over his shoulders but his posture rigid, like a man who had not sat down for hours. His face was pale, his expression tight with worry.
Beside him stood Smith.
Both men turned simultaneously.
For a brief moment, silence ruled the chamber.
Then Toki jumped down from Umma's back.
Mathias blinked in disbelief.
"Toki?" the king said, stepping forward. "You—"
He stopped mid-sentence as realization dawned across his face.
His gaze swept over Toki's torn uniform, the blood staining his sleeves, the barely concealed exhaustion beneath his expression.
"You were right, boy," Mathias said slowly.
"The capital is under attack."
Smith was studying Toki with the careful curiosity of a man trying to measure whether he was witnessing brilliance… or madness.
"Well," the old strategist said calmly, "it's fortunate we decided to trust your plan."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"But now comes the more important question."
"Where," Smith asked quietly, "is this weapon you promised us?"
Toki did not answer immediately.
Instead, he walked past them.
His boots echoed across the vast throne chamber as he moved toward the massive stone wall behind the throne itself.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
Toki stopped in front of it.
He stared at the cold stone surface, his breathing slow and controlled.
This is it.
Behind him, Mathias frowned.
"What are you doing?" the king asked.
Smith's gaze sharpened instantly.
Toki lifted his hand and rested his palm against the stone.
"Now is the moment," he said quietly.
"In a short time," Toki continued, "my men will bring the rest of the dragons into the center of the capital."
Mathias stared at him.
But Toki did not turn around.
Instead, he drew his arm back.
Then—
He punched the wall.
Crack.
The impact echoed through the throne room like a cannon blast, and a dark smear of blood splashed across the stone wall.
Mathias froze.
Smith's eyes widened.
"Toki," Smith said slowly, "what exactly—"
Toki struck the wall again harder..
CRACK.
The impact made his entire arm shudder.
A faint fracture appeared in the stone.
But the price was immediate.
The skin across his knuckles split open completely, blood running freely down his wrist.
"TOKI!" Mathias barked.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
Toki didn't answer.
He stared at the wall as if he could see something beyond it.
His mind briefly flashed with memories of a burning city… dragons tearing the sky apart… and Smith's quiet voice speaking beside a ruined fountain.
"Sometimes the simplest solution is the most barbaric one," Toki said .
"If dragons are the problem… perhaps we simply need a bigger dragon."
Toki smiled faintly.
"You see?" he murmured quietly.
Smith frowned.
"See what?"
Toki raised his arm again.
This time, when his fist slammed into the stone—
CRACK!
Something inside his hand broke.
A sharp, wet sound echoed through the chamber as bone shifted beneath torn flesh.
The wall fractured deeper.
Fragments of black stone fell to the floor.
Smith's voice rose sharply.
"WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?!"
Toki exhaled slowly.
"It's hard to explain," he admitted calmly.
Blood dripped from his fingers onto the marble floor.
"But…"
He pulled his arm back once more.
His hand was already swelling grotesquely, the bones beneath the skin bent at unnatural angles.
Still—
He punched the wall one last time with all his strength.
CRASH.
The wall shattered inward.
A massive section of stone broke apart and fell into darkness beyond.
And suddenly—
A violent gust of air exploded outward from the opening.
The force nearly threw Toki off his feet.
Dust, old and suffocating, poured into the throne room like the breath of a long-sealed tomb.
Mathias staggered backward.
Smith braced himself against one of the pillars.
"What… is this?" Smith whispered.
Darkness filled the opening where the wall had stood.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then—
Two enormous eyes opened inside the blackness.
They glowed like molten gold.
The ground trembled.
Something massive shifted deep beneath the palace.
The stone floor vibrated violently as the creature began to move.
Mathias felt his stomach drop.
"Impossible…" he breathed.
A low rumble echoed through the chamber.
Not the roar of something newly awakened.
But the deep, ancient exhale of something that had been waiting… for a very long time.
The enormous shape moved closer.
Closer.
Each step shook the palace foundations.
Smith stared into the darkness with growing disbelief.
"…Dear God."
Then something metallic slid down Toki's sleeve.
CLANG.
The chain of living gold spilled into the light.
It moved almost like a serpent, each link flowing with unnatural fluidity as it dropped to the floor.
The chain continued unraveling until the far end remained wrapped firmly around Toki's wrist.
Toki tightened his grip on the chain, ignoring the agony screaming through his shattered fingers. Blood dripped steadily from his hand, running down the living gold links and splashing softly onto the marble floor beneath him. The creature in the darkness shifted again, and the throne room trembled violently as something ancient and enormous moved closer to the broken wall.
Scale by scale, a massive head began to emerge from the darkness. Its breath rolled through the chamber like the opening of a furnace, carrying with it the weight of centuries spent in silence beneath the capital.
Mathias could barely find his voice.
"That… that's…"
His words died in his throat.
The Dragon King of the capital.
Smith stared at Toki, the realization slowly spreading across his face like a storm reaching the shore.
"…You mad bastard," he muttered.
Toki laughed weakly.
"I did warn you."
The dragon pushed forward again, its colossal head forcing through the shattered wall as golden eyes locked directly onto the small human holding the chain. The throne room shook under its weight. Stone cracked along the pillars and dust rained from the ceiling as the ancient beast finally revealed itself to the world above.
Toki's broken hand trembled, but he tightened his grip anyway.
Then he turned slightly toward Smith.
"I'm about to do the stupidest thing I've ever done."
The Dragon King opened its mouth.