The mountain rose above them like a silent guardian, its base strewn with weathered stones and wild grasses that shimmered in the soft afternoon light. Luciel stopped at the edge of a rocky clearing and turned toward the massive creature crouched behind them. The rock tortoise's shell glimmered faintly beneath a layer of dust, its deep brown scales blending perfectly with the landscape.
"Stay here," Luciel instructed, his voice calm but firm. "Fold your shell in, cover yourself with stone armor, and hide among the rocks. From a distance, you'll look like another hill."
The creature let out a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the ground.
Luciel nodded. "Good. And if anyone comes near the back wall—anyone who tries to destroy what's behind it—you crush them."
The tortoise's golden eyes blinked slowly, understanding. "Wooo…" it murmured, the sound low and deliberate, a vow of obedience.
Luciel's expression softened for a moment as he looked back toward the makeshift shelter they'd left hidden behind the wall. The Starlight Tea Tree grew there—small now, but radiant, its faint silver leaves glimmering even through layers of dust. It wasn't just a plant to him. It was the foundation of his future, the heart of what he planned to build.
That tree could not be lost.
"Good," he murmured. "You're the last line of defense."
He turned to another shape perched above on a rock—a crimson spider with a body large as a wolf, its eight eyes glinting like red glass.
"Arachni," Luciel called quietly, "the first line is yours. Keep this area clear. If anyone comes close to the tortoise, drive them off. No fighting unless absolutely necessary."
The Red Ghost Spider gave a faint clicking reply, the sound sharp but obedient.
Satisfied, Luciel straightened his robe and gestured to the two young women standing a few paces away. "The house is yours to guard," he said softly to the beasts. "We'll return soon."
Then, turning to Elara and Mino, he added, "Let's move."
A soft shimmer passed beside them as the three-colored lizard—a creature of camouflage and silence—slipped into invisibility. Luciel had brought it for one reason only: protection. If anything went wrong, the lizard would strike before danger even had a chance to draw breath.
Elara led the way, following a path that wound between rocks and sparse trees. Her cloak fluttered lightly as she moved, the plum-blossom mask hiding her expression but not the tension in her posture. Mino followed close behind, her long rabbit ears twitching nervously.
For half an hour they climbed and descended the uneven terrain until the land began to flatten. The forest thinned, and the faint sounds of human activity—voices, footsteps, the clatter of carts—drifted toward them.
When they finally reached the edge of the Moon Lake Tribe, Luciel slowed his steps and took in the sight before him.
The outer wall was little more than a tall palisade made of sharpened logs, each stake weathered by sun and wind. It wasn't the imposing fortress he'd expected; rather, it looked fragile—functional but crude, as though built in a hurry and mended too many times.
At the wide gate, a long line of travelers stretched out onto the dirt road. Hunters with bundles of pelts, scavengers with sacks of metal scraps, and weary families carrying baskets waited their turn to pay for entry.
The three strangers' arrival did not go unnoticed. The moment Luciel, Elara, and Mino stepped into view, the line grew restless. Eyes turned. Conversations faltered.
Mino drew closer to Luciel instinctively, her fingers tightening on her bundle. "Luciel," she whispered, "they're staring." Her voice trembled with unease. "Their eyes… it feels wrong."
He gave a faint smile. "They're only curious—and jealous. Don't let it bother you."
But he knew better. In a place where poverty lingered on every face, their appearance was like a flame in the dark. His white hanfu gleamed under the sun, Elara's silver hair caught every ray of light, and even Mino's simple dress looked impossibly clean. To those who watched, they didn't look like wanderers—they looked like nobles.
And in a world like this, nobles were either feared or killed.
"Elara," he said quietly, not breaking stride, "remember what I told you. Walk with purpose. No hesitation."
The white-haired girl nodded once, her masked gaze scanning the crowd. "Understood."
"Mino," Elara murmured softly as they neared the gate, "keep your face calm. Remember how he taught you."
Mino inhaled sharply and lifted her chin. Her steps grew steadier, the nervous tremor in her hands subsiding as she focused on the rhythm of her breathing.
Luciel didn't even glance at the line. He walked straight to the center of the gate as if it already belonged to him. His stride was confident, unhurried—a deliberate display of quiet authority.
No one dared to move.
The guards at the checkpoint exchanged uneasy looks but didn't intervene. They weren't fools; anyone who could appear this composed, this immaculate, in a wasteland world was not someone to provoke lightly.
When Luciel reached the entrance, one of the guards swallowed hard and stepped aside. "Welcome, honored guests," he said, voice trembling. "Please… come in."
Luciel inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment and passed through, Elara and Mino following in silence. The faint shimmer of the invisible lizard slithered across the ground beside them.
Behind them, the guards exhaled in unison.
"Send word to Lord Moon," one of them ordered quickly. "Tell him three outsiders entered the gate—unregistered, but dressed like nobles."
"Yes, sir!" another replied, sprinting toward the inner streets.
Luciel caught the movement from the corner of his eye and smiled faintly. "There," he murmured. "Didn't take long."
Mino frowned. "What do you mean?"
"They'll report to their leader," Elara answered, her tone low and wary. "The Moon Lord will hear about us within minutes."
She turned her masked face toward Luciel. "He's powerful, Luciel. An awakened one."
Luciel's expression remained unreadable. "Good," he said simply. "Let him come. We're not here to cause trouble."
Elara gave a small huff beneath her mask. "Perhaps not. But trouble tends to find those who carry things worth stealing."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward the bundle Mino carried—the one that held the portrait, and the rare tea.
Luciel ignored the remark, his eyes scanning the streets ahead. "Mino, is there anything you want to see?"
She shook her head quickly, clutching her package tighter. "No. Just staying close to you."
"Fair enough," he murmured.
They moved deeper into the settlement. The outer ring of the Moon Tribe was cramped and harsh. Makeshift huts built from wood and scrap metal lined the muddy streets. The air smelled of smoke and sweat. Men and women moved like shadows, their faces pale and hollow, eyes dulled by exhaustion.
Elara's voice softened. "This is the outer district—home to the slaves and laborers. Those who can't afford the tax live here."
Luciel nodded thoughtfully, his gaze drifting from one broken shack to another. "I see. And beyond?"
"Beyond is where the paying citizens live. The higher you go, the better the houses become."
"Then we'll go further," Luciel said simply.
They continued walking. Slowly, the landscape began to change—the streets widened, the stench faded, and the shacks gave way to sturdier wooden homes. Merchants haggled in the open square, bartering tools and goods beneath the filtered sunlight.
Still, the sight before him stirred something heavy in Luciel's chest. The Moon Tribe was supposed to be prosperous, yet everywhere he looked he saw hunger and fatigue.
"It's worse than I expected," he murmured. "Even their stronghold feels… tired."
A new voice cut through the air, soft but laced with fire.
"Of course it does. Life in our little tribe can't possibly compare to yours, traveler from the great cities."
Luciel turned, surprised at how quickly the first challenger had arrived.
Standing a few paces away was a girl no older than seventeen. Her long red hair shimmered like embers in the light, cascading over a robe of muted gray that did little to dull her intensity. Her eyes—sharp, gold-tinged—studied him with a mix of curiosity and challenge.
Elara stiffened instantly, her hand brushing against the hidden knife at her waist. Beneath the mask, her voice was little more than a breath. "Luciel," she whispered, "that's Agne Moon—the heiress of this tribe."
Luciel's gaze lingered on the girl. The confidence in her stance, the faint shimmer of heat that radiated around her—it was unmistakable.
"She's an awakened one," Elara continued. "Fire-aligned. Dangerous."
Agne stepped forward, her expression poised but edged. "Visitors who skip the line and enter unannounced usually have a reason," she said coolly. "So tell me, strangers—what brings people like you to the Moon Lake Tribe?"
Luciel met her gaze evenly, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. "Perhaps," he said, "we've come to remind your people what beauty looks like."
Her brow arched at the boldness of his tone. Around them, the crowd began to gather—whispers rising, anticipation thick in the air.
Elara's gloved hand tightened around her cloak, her silver eyes flicking between the red-haired heiress and the calm figure beside her. She could feel the hum of danger beginning to coil in the space between them.
Luciel, however, seemed entirely at ease, as though this was precisely the kind of encounter he'd been waiting for.
And above them, unseen in the growing tension, the first faint plume of smoke curled upward from Agne's fingertips—a warning, or perhaps a test.
..
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