Even so, not a single one of them had ever considered giving up to be a viable option. Life always has a purpose, no matter how vague its direction may be, no matter how often it changes and erodes with time. But if that purpose is never pursued, then what meaning did its existence have in the first place?
Grief and the fear of loss instead sealed off every path of retreat. There was no choice but to endure the present, to keep moving forward, to accept whatever came, and to hope… however faintly, that there would be an answer from the gods above to their resolve to keep living in a world as cruel and terrifying as this.
Living behind the shadows had become humanity's fate. They hid from threats beyond, whether from fellow humans or from something far worse. Because no human is ever truly pure; good or evil, deep within them lies a form of cruelty, sometimes even surpassing that of demons themselves. They fought monsters, hid from dreadful creatures that continued to emerge into the human world, and witnessed terror after terror being born, until fear itself became the most natural state to live in.
The fog around them began to stir as Moreira felt his heartbeat no longer in sync with his thoughts. Shuisa felt it as well—a formless fear, nameless, yet undeniably real.
But that alone was not enough.
No matter how hard they tried to leave this place as ordinary humans, everything felt like a direct challenge to their sanity itself. Even so, Northerlheim, shrouded in white fog, was not the same world as the one they came from.
"This is… the way this fog-covered world does something that should have never been done."
Pressure began to build in both of their minds.
The moment those words were spoken, their meaning pierced straight into both of their minds. Their bodies froze instantly, breathless, like crude drawings sketched by a child in a notebook—without detail, without movement.
"Maybe this is the last time we meet… and also our farewell," said Moreira. A bitter smile formed on his face, fragile, as if it could crumble at any moment.
Shuisa tilted her head slightly, then muttered softly to herself.
'What did he just say? Why do men always try to look cool in front of women? Damn it.'
She was still trying to process those words when a group of men and women began to emerge from the thick white fog. Their bodies floated slowly, fragile like ordinary humans, yet their presence radiated a piercing pressure, strong enough to force Shuisa and Moreira to their knees without them realizing it.
…
Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Forgenate, at the merchant's house that had previously given him a ride, two antique carved wooden chairs sat on the house's terrace, illuminated by the glow of a street gas lamp. On the chair to the left sat a blue-eyed man, Zavi Actitus. On the right, a man with deep brown eyes that exuded calmness—Ficius Newesto, the owner of the house.
Ficius cast a sharp glance when he realized Zavi had suddenly appeared atop his horse carriage in the middle of the night, just as he was about to check his trade supplies for the next day.
"So... tell me what you experienced," he said while wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Is it possible you left something behind?" he asked, confirming before sitting down beside him.
Zavi remained silent, letting the question hang in the air. He tried to recall what had actually happened, and how he could have returned to that carriage.
"I'm sorry, Sir," he said with a forced smile. "I don't remember how I ended up here."
"I swear. Even I don't know what happened. It felt like waking up from a fever dream, something I used to experience often as a child… The dream world always felt slow, moving my fingers was difficult, and after waking up my knees would always feel weak." Zavi tried to remember. He knew he had ordered his created cat to enter the plaza road, but after that, there was nothing.
He let out a short breath.
Ficius touched his chin, gave a small nod, then said, "Did you just have a dream?"
Zavi stiffened. His hand had briefly lifted as he was about to reach for the teacup beside his left. "Ahahaha. You do have quite a sense of humor."
"Actually, I've experienced something similar." Ficius took a warm cup of tea from his right, blew on it slowly, then took a sip.
"Really?" Zavi said it without realizing.
Ficius nodded lightly. He set the cup down again, as if contemplating something a past experience he had gone through about a month ago.
Yet he did not know whether it had been real or merely a dream. It had never truly happened in the real world. Everything from the past ten minutes of conversation was nothing but nonsense. Or… was it really?
Wasn't it strange for someone to be shot directly in the heart multiple times, yet not die? And he was aware of it, and when he opened his eyes, all he saw was a vast stretch of grassland and the sound of a rushing river not far from where he stood.
Zavi listened to that story seriously, thinking that perhaps it held the key to resolving his confusion.
He cleared his throat, then stood up. He lowered his gaze slightly before looking at Ficius. "Is that all, Sir?"
Ficius took out a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket, slipped it between his lips, then lit it. He exhaled the smoke slowly toward Zavi, who stood to his left.
"Is it possible you don't believe me?" he said in a heavy tone. "It's fine. I don't want to remember it either."
After that, he stood up. The cigarette still hung from his lips, its smoke curling slowly as his gaze lifted to the night sky filled with shimmering stars and a crescent moon that made the night feel calmer than usual.
'At that time, for some reason, the cat I created seemed to be pulled by something. It was followed by the rough scraping sound of shoes against the ground, and then everything disappeared, as if swallowed by the earth itself.' he thought as he stood still, staring at Ficius's back.
'I don't understand. The district that was said to be destroyed turned out to still be standing intact. That statement made me rethink everything. Is there another meaning behind those words?' Zavi let out a long breath, trying to calm his mind.
Then, while at that man's house, he realized one thing, Moreira was no longer with him. It was all too strange, and could not possibly be a coincidence.
His brows furrowed, his mouth slightly open, his lips moving faintly as he saw Celvira walking across the terrace toward him.
"Huh? How does she know I'm here?" he muttered softly. The corner of his lips lifted, forming a faint smile, the smile of someone who knew that woman was truly terrifying.
Ficius sensed the foreign presence first. The sound of footsteps—neat, rhythmic, too precise for an ordinary person. The steps of someone trained.
He straightened his gaze. His fingers pressed against each other until they cracked like breaking bones. The cigarette slipped from his lips, falling beneath his feet, then crushed until its embers died out.
His breath grew heavy. Both his hands clenched tightly, the veins on them clearly visible. In his mind, that woman was not only a threat to himself, but also to Zavi.
"Stop right there!" he shouted, his voice rising, loud enough as a warning.
But Celvira kept walking, as if those words had never existed.
'Damn it. Is she looking down on me because I look like an old man?'
Anger burned in his chest like hot embers. His head tightened, his jaw clenched with a grinding sound.
"Ah… take this!"
Ficius dashed toward her, then leaped. Both his hands were raised high, right above Celvira's head.
But before his strike could land, in an instant, Celvira was already by Zavi's side.
The blow slammed into the stone courtyard with a loud crash, the impact grinding harshly against it.
"Ahhhh… damn it, that hurts…!" Ficius shouted, cursing as he grimaced, even at the stone terrace that had mercilessly received his punch.
Zavi's gaze fixed on the scene. Then he spoke without even turning his head.
"Do you know he has already disappeared?" he murmured softly, "a third-tier evil spirit." A crooked smile appeared on his face.
Celvira clicked her tongue. "Damn it. Was this your doing?" she said coldly. "If so, I won't let you."
"Won't let me… why?" Zavi turned slowly. His brows furrowed, his gaze locking onto Celvira.
Snap.
Celvira flicked her finger. Her left eye shut, her face filled with anger. Instantly, something like a gentle wind pierced through Zavi's shoulder. Cold, sharp, then creeping inward. His body felt heavy. Something seeped through his pores, crawling inside, stabbing into his bones again and again.
"H-hey… w-what's happening to my b-body…?" his voice was hoarse and broken.
Zavi's vision blurred as he saw Celvira walking away, leaving him behind. Once she had moved several hundred meters away, the sensation vanished as if it had never existed. Confused, he stood there, brushing off his coat and trousers, his gaze fixed on the ground.
For a moment, the hairs on the back of Zavi's neck stood on end as he saw Celvira disappear in the blink of an eye.
He clicked his tongue. "Damn evil spirit," he muttered irritably. "I don't know what you're talking about, and besides, I don't even know where Moreira is right now."
'And yet she dares to say I've hidden him,' he added inwardly.
'Now that I think about it… what was that movement? My eyes couldn't even track it properly, as if her motion ignored time itself.' Zavi decided to step forward, approaching Ficius, who lay on the ground, grimacing in pain from the injury to his fingers.
He extended his hand. "Sir, are you alright?" he said softly. "Why did you act so recklessly? Don't tell me you were dreaming…?" he tried to tease him.
"I don't know," he replied, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. "That woman… she's the one who did all this."
"A woman, you say?" Zavi murmured, pretending not to know.
Ficius nodded, then stood up, and with a single motion straightened his clothes to hide his frustration. After that, he held his shoulders, then excused himself to go inside the house to calm his mind.
'Is he always like this?' Zavi turned, watching Ficius's back as he took two cups from the table and carried them into the house.
He smiled faintly. "Thank you, Sir, for the enlightenment," he murmured softly. "So… the cat I created earlier saved me?"
Zavi had just realized it, and thought about thanking the cat, and then he noticed the sound of footsteps…