[Scholar]: This is slander.
He placed a hand against his chest like a man personally betrayed by the world.
[Scholar]: I would never eat a child's brain.
A pause.
Then, quieter—
The little Caprinae girl stared at him in horror.
Her lips trembled.
Then—
[Caprinae Girl]: W-WHY WOULD YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT?!
She burst into tears.
The Scholar immediately winced.
A beat.
[Scholar]: That came out wrong.
Another.
[Scholar]: I meant it in a reassuring way.
The crying only got louder.
The little girl stumbled backward through the snow until she crashed directly into Graveyard's leg, clutching his cloak like her life depended on it.
[Caprinae Girl]: H-HE'S SCARYYYYY—
Graveyard slowly looked at Scholar.
Long.
Judgmental.
Disappointed.
[Graveyard]: …You somehow made it worse.
The Scholar crossed his arms defensively.
[Scholar]: In my defense, I haven't interacted with children in at least eighty years.
A pause.
[Scholar]: Most adults also start screaming when I explain things.
The crying continued.
Graveyard sighed through his nose and rested the shovel against his shoulder again.
[Graveyard]: Stop bullying her.
A beat.
Then he glanced toward the distant walls barely visible through the blizzard.
[Graveyard]: We can enter the city now.
His voice lowered slightly.
[Graveyard]: And they can't follow us past the gates.
The Scholar's expression faded back into something calmer.
Older.
For the first time since they met—
He looked past the snowstorm.
Past the trees.
Watching.
Listening.
Then he exhaled quietly.
A brief pause.
The little girl peeked out from behind Graveyard's cloak just enough to glare at him through watery eyes.
[Caprinae Girl]: …You're still not allowed near my brain.
The Scholar looked genuinely offended again.
[Scholar]: I am a respected scholar.
A pause.
[Scholar]: Not a brain thief.
Graveyard started walking.
[Graveyard]: The fact that you needed to clarify that explains the problem.
Snow crunched beneath their steps as the three figures disappeared into the storm.
—
Several minutes later—
Twenty figures emerged from the white haze without a sound.
Black armor.
Breathing masks.
Cloaks heavy with frost.
Ursus Emperor's Blades.
They spread across the abandoned trail with mechanical precision, checking the snow, the air, even the shattered traces of presence lingering in the cold.
One of them knelt beside a small metallic device half-buried beneath the snow.
A faint blinking light.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 11]: Is the device working?
Another Blade crouched beside him, examining the tracker carefully.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 18]: It is.
A pause.
Then a long sigh escaped through the mask.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 18]: …But I think the tracker was removed from the girl.
Silence.
The snowstorm howled around them.
Then—
[Ursus Emperor Blade 5]: Do you think he'll eat her brain?
A different Blade immediately answered.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 8]: He'd better.
A beat.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 8]: I have a bet going, and I refuse to lose.
Several helmets slowly turned toward him.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 18]: …Why would you even bet on that?
A pause.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 18]: And what exactly do you have on the line?
The Blade crossed his arms proudly.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 8]: A painting of the Great Old Emperor.
Silence.
Every single Blade looked at him.
Not shocked.
Not disgusted.
Envious.
One of them muttered quietly—
[Ursus Emperor Blade 3]: …That's a high-quality prize.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 14]: Is it the one with the golden frame?
[Ursus Emperor Blade 8]: Limited edition.
A long silence followed.
Then—
[Ursus Emperor Blade 5]: Damn you.
Another Blade pointed accusingly.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 12]: You rigged the bet. Everyone knows the Scholar eats strange things.
A beat.
[Ursus Emperor Blade 8]: I planned ahead.
The storm continued raging around them while twenty elite imperial super-soldiers argued over gambling odds involving whether an ancient horror would consume a child.
—
—
[Back with the Scholar]
Massive walls rose from the snow ahead of them.
Not built.
Carved.
Layered with ancient bone, black steel, and frozen flesh fused together into the shape of a wandering city.
Countless dim lights flickered across its surface like candles inside a corpse.
The little Caprinae girl stared upward in absolute horror.
Meanwhile, the Scholar looked delighted.
A slow grin spread across his face.
[Scholar]: The City of the Dead is really made from the dead.
Graveyard didn't even glance at him.
[Graveyard]: It's called Farewell's City.
A pause.
[Graveyard]: And it's made from two bodies. Not many.
The Scholar hummed thoughtfully as they approached the gates.
[Scholar]: White Snake and Voorhe would've been proud.
Another step.
[Scholar]: Imagine it—your corpses becoming public infrastructure.
Graveyard's deadpan expression somehow became even flatter.
[Graveyard]: A Wendigo skeleton and a Feranmut carcass are extremely stable materials.
A beat.
[Graveyard]: You can build almost anything from them.
The little girl slowly turned toward the city again.
Her tiny body trembled.
[Caprinae Girl]: T-The city is a carcass…?
Silence.
A cold wind passed through the streets.
The Scholar looked down at her kindly.
The child's eyes rolled back instantly.
She collapsed face-first into the snow.
A pause.
The Scholar blinked once.
Then pointed downward.
[Scholar]: …She passed out.
Graveyard sighed, already picking her up with one arm.
[Graveyard]: You are genuinely terrible with children.
The Scholar looked offended for the third time that day.
[Scholar]: In my defense—
A pause.
[Scholar]: Most adults also pass out when I explain things.
Graveyard adjusted the unconscious Caprinae girl over one shoulder before pushing open the massive gate ahead of them.
The city groaned.
Not mechanically.
Organically.
Like distant bones shifting beneath frozen earth.
[Graveyard]: That doesn't help your case.
A beat.
His dead-looking eyes slid toward the Scholar.
[Graveyard]: So why are you really here?
A small pause.
Then his gaze narrowed slightly.
[Graveyard]: And why did you bring wine instead of tea?
Silence followed.
For once—
The Scholar didn't joke immediately.
The wind moved softly through the colossal streets of Farewell's City.
Then—
[Scholar]: The future changed.
A beat.
His smile faded slightly.
[Scholar]: And a week from now…
A pause.
[Scholar]: I saw your death.
The words settled heavily between them.
Cold.
Still.
Graveyard didn't react immediately.
He simply kept walking through the city of corpses and graves.
Then—
[Scholar]: There are only four of us left now.
A quiet breath.
Another.
A pause.
[Scholar]: And the other two in Kazdel.
Silence lingered.
Long enough for the weight of those missing to settle between them.
Names neither of them wanted to say aloud.
Finally—
Graveyard let out a dry, hollow chuckle.
[Graveyard]: So that's why you're here.
A beat.
[Graveyard]: To drink with me…
Another.
[Graveyard]: And to visit your own grave.
The Scholar immediately looked annoyed.
[Scholar]: For the last time—
He pointed accusingly.
[Scholar]: That pile of unrecyclable trash is not my grave.
Graveyard snorted.
Actually snorted.
A rare sound.
[Graveyard]: It has your name carved into it.
[Scholar]: That proves nothing.
[Graveyard]: You buried yourself there after the Siracusa incident.
[Scholar]: I was being dramatic.
[Graveyard]: You held a funeral for yourself.
[Scholar]: It helped me process things.
A long silence followed.
Then both men burst out laughing.
Old laughter.
The kind born from surviving too much together.
—
Hours later—
They sat among the endless graveyard fields stretching through the inner layers of Farewell's City.
Snow drifted quietly around them.
Empty bottles surrounded the pair.
Or at least—
They looked empty.
[Scholar]: Well then…
He raised another bottle lazily.
[Scholar]: Let us drink properly.
A small grin returned to his face.
[Scholar]: I brought wine from countries that don't even exist anymore.
Graveyard accepted the bottle without hesitation.
Then another.
And another.
The two ancient monsters drank beneath the dead city for what might truly have been the last time.
They laughed.
They argued.
They cried.
They spoke of old wars no history book remembered.
Of friends buried beneath kingdoms.
Of promises broken by time itself.
And for a few brief hours—
They weren't horrors.
They were just tired old men refusing to say goodbye.
[Graveyard]: I still think the Witch King was your descendant.
The Scholar nearly choked on his drink.
[Scholar]: He wasn't!
Graveyard pointed at him with complete confidence.
[Graveyard]: You were extremely active back then.
[Scholar]: That proves nothing!
[Graveyard]: Half the disasters in history started because you fell in love with someone unstable.
[Scholar]: That is slander.
A pause.
Then quieter—
Graveyard laughed so hard the bottle cracked in his hand.
The Scholar stared at the snowy sky above them for a long moment.
Then slowly stood.
[Scholar]: …Looks like we ran out of wine.
A pause.
His voice softened slightly.
[Scholar]: So I should go now.
He glanced toward the unconscious Caprinae girl buried beneath blankets nearby.
[Scholar]: Also, I'm taking this thing with me.
A beat.
[Scholar]: I'll throw her into a random village or something.
The girl stirred weakly in her sleep.
Graveyard watched him silently as the Scholar lifted her onto his back.
No jokes this time.
No sarcasm.
Just quiet understanding.
The Scholar turned—
And walked away into the snowstorm.
He didn't look back.
He never did.
Silence settled over the graveyard once more.
Then—
Graveyard's gaze drifted toward one of the discarded bottles beside him.
A small frown crossed his face.
He picked it up.
Tilted it slightly.
Liquid sloshed inside.
Full.
Another bottle.
Also full.
And another.
Silence.
Then Graveyard laughed quietly to himself.
Tired.
Fond.
A slow breath escaped him into the cold air.
[Graveyard]: You always hated goodbyes.
A pause.
Softer now—
[Graveyard]: Just like the rest of us.
He sat alone among the graves, drinking in silence beneath the dead city.
Nearby—
Three ancient gravestones stood side by side beneath the falling snow.
[King]
[Hero]
[Avenger]
And beside them—
One empty grave.
Waiting.
[Chapter end]
[I hope you enjoy this chapter. It may be the final side chapter, as the story's focus will now shift fully toward the main storyline.]
[Q&A]
[Ask me anything you'd like. I'll answer what I can—as long as it doesn't wander into spoiler territory.]