Leaving the Angel's Cage
The Aurekawa Citadel was reclaimed, but it felt more like a beautifully gilded cage than a fortress. Hayate and Neshuda were no longer fighting for the throne; they were fighting for the world. They knew the Citadel, the Seal's capstone, would soon become the Hidden Clan Leader's target.
"We can't fight them here, Neshuda," Hayate said, looking out at the cold, early dawn light. "The malice of the ghoul summoner is strongest near the Decaying Shrine of the North. We have to draw them out, or they will corrupt the city from the outside in."
Neshuda, his dark eyes fixed on the distant mountain peaks, nodded. He was no longer just the King's Life Anchor; he was the primary target, and he wore that knowledge like a shield of determination.
"We leave before sunrise," Neshuda stated. "We take minimal supplies. We can't look like royalty. We must look like two strays heading north for work. The Citadel's eyes are on Qalvetta, not us. We use that moment of confusion."
Captain Torvin, his loyalty shining brightly, stood ready with two strong, fast horses and thick, common wool cloaks. He had prepared maps and secured a small bag of food and medical supplies, all provided by The Sea Witch—the pragmatic pirate queen who now respected the King's deadly mission.
"Your Majesty, The Sea Witch sends her regards," Torvin whispered, handing Hayate a worn leather pouch. "She said, 'Tell the King the sea will cover his tracks, but he must not die, or I lose my best ally.'"
Hayate smiled faintly. "Tell her I intend to keep our bargain."
The Northern Road
They rode out of the capital as the sun began to warm the eastern sky. Hayate, the Angelic bloodline King, was side-by-side with Neshuda, the destined Stray, heading toward the most dangerous place in the kingdom.
The kingdom they rode through was unsettled. The brief, intense political chaos had shattered the people's sense of safety. Rumors of the defeated Qalvetta, the escape of the terrifying Henudra, and the 'strange, dark magic' surrounding the young King were everywhere.
Hayate felt the reflected emotions of the towns they passed: widespread fear, deep suspicion, and a growing spiritual sickness.
"The ghoul summoner is already at work," Hayate murmured, feeling a dull, sickening ache in his stomach. "The malice is like a damp blanket over the land, infecting the people's minds. They are angry, confused, and easy to manipulate."
Neshuda, ever the realist, focused on practical threats. "We need to move quickly, Hayate. The farther north we go, the harder it will be to find resources. If we run into any of Henudra's old loyalists, we are finished."
Hayate felt Neshuda's intense, focused determination—it was a powerful, comforting force that pushed back the reflected malice.
"My Angelic senses are stronger now, Neshuda," Hayate admitted. "The curse makes the malice painful, but it also gives me a clear sense of direction. We are heading into a spiritual war zone."
The Ghostly Village
After two days of relentless travel, they reached Aki no Tani (Autumn Valley), a small village nestled at the base of the mountains leading to the North. The village should have been alive with farming activity, but it was unnaturally quiet.
Hayate felt a sudden, profound spike of despair reflected from the village. It was thick, heavy, and smelled of rot and decay.
"Something is wrong here," Hayate whispered, pulling their horses into a thicket. "The pain is overwhelming—not physical, but spiritual. Despair and suffering."
They dismounted, moving silently into the village square. The houses were empty, the doors left ajar. There were no signs of struggle, but the air was heavy with a feeling of absolute, crushing emptiness.
In the center of the square stood a single, weathered stone statue—a memorial to an ancient hero. The base of the statue was covered in a thick, unsettling gray sludge.
Neshuda immediately drew his sword. "Ghouls," he hissed, his face grim. "Villagers practicing forbidden arts sumon ghouls. The gray sludge—it's the residual decay left behind when the ghouls feed. The people didn't run; they were consumed."
Hayate felt a wave of icy fear from Neshuda, but it was tightly controlled by his resolve.
Hayate walked toward the sludge, his Angelic senses pulling him. He saw a tiny, flickering remnant of an inscription carved into the stone beneath the gray rot.
"The summoner was here," Hayate said, his voice cold with realization. "The Hidden Clan Leader used this village for a ritual. They didn't just kill the people; they turned them into fuel for their magic."
The First Ghoul
As Hayate finished speaking, a low, rasping sound came from the shadows of the village well.
A figure shambled out—a creature that was once human, now twisted and desiccated, with dull, milky white eyes and long, clawed fingers. It was a ghoul, radiating the profound malice of the Hidden Clan Leader.
Neshuda didn't wait. He was a force of controlled fury. The ghoul was slow and clumsy, powered only by base hunger and spiritual corruption. Neshuda moved around it, his master of stealth speed too fast for the corrupted creature to track.
Snik!
Neshuda's blade moved with lethal precision, severing the ghoul's corrupted anchor point, not the head. The ghoul collapsed instantly, turning into a pile of gray dust and rags.
Hayate felt the clean, sharp burst of Neshuda's triumph mixed with the physical exertion of the kill. The Curse of Reflection was now a battle companion.
"They are weak, Hayate," Neshuda stated, cleaning his blade. "But they are numerous. And they carry the summoner's signature malice. This is just the beginning."
The Whispers of the Corruption
They continued their journey into the mountains, pushing toward the Decaying Shrine of the North. The environment grew more hostile—the air was thin, the trails were treacherous, and the spiritual atmosphere was suffocating.
Hayate began to suffer from a different kind of reflected pain: the overwhelming mental noise of the growing malice.
"They are trying to communicate," Hayate gasped, clutching his head as a wave of alien thoughts crashed into him. "Not with me, but with the world! They are broadcasting despair and chaos! They want to turn the whole kingdom into a ghoul army!"
The Angelic senses, tied to the spiritual health of the kingdom, were now acting as a conduit for the enemy's psychic attack. The Curse of Reflection was no longer just reflecting Neshuda; it was reflecting the spiritual decay of the entire land.
"Neshuda, you have to help me," Hayate pleaded, leaning heavily on his Life Anchor. "I can't bear this noise. Focus on me. Give me your silence."
Neshuda stopped, placing his strong, warm hand on the King's neck, pushing his own pure-hearted will into the connection.
Neshuda had lived his life in silence and control. He focused all his energy on Hayate, projecting a wall of cold, clean, empty resolve—the spiritual silence of the master of stealth.
The chaotic malice immediately quieted, replaced by the internal, comforting thrum of Neshuda's steady heart.
"I am your silence, Hayate," Neshuda whispered. "I will anchor the chaos. You must guide us."
The Shadow of the True Villain
They pushed on, the terrain becoming rockier and more unstable. Hayate guided them using the only beacon he could trust: the pure, intense focus of Neshuda's spirit, mixed with the faint spiritual current pointing toward the shrine.
As they crested a ridge, they saw it: the Decaying Shrine of the North. It was a ruin, a towering stone structure perched precariously on a cliff, radiating ancient, corrupted power. The air around it shimmered with dark magic.
Standing on the ridge, looking down at the shrine, Hayate felt the curse slam into him one last time, a reflection of pure, intense malice—cold, ancient, and immensely powerful.
You have found me, little Angel. And you brought your pathetic Anchor. The Seal will break tonight.
Hayate recognized the voice from the Citadel—the Hidden Clan Leader. But this time, the voice brought a physical reflection: a sudden, sharp, deep spiritual wound that made Hayate gasp and cough up blood.
Neshuda, seeing the blood, immediately gripped Hayate, his face etched with terror.
"Hayate! You're bleeding! What happened? I didn't move!"
"It was not you, Neshuda," Hayate choked out, wiping the blood from his lips. "It was the summoner. They struck me through the curse. They know they can't break my soul; they are going to physically break the Seal itself by killing my Life Anchor! You are their target!"
Hayate pushed himself away from Neshuda, standing tall despite the weakness.
"We are exposed here, Neshuda. We must get down there now. We use your life as the bait. We fight the Hidden Clan Leader on their own ground, or the world ends."
Neshuda looked down at the shrine, then back at the King. His expression was no longer one of fear, but of perfect, deadly acceptance.
"Then let them come for me, Hayate," Neshuda said, his hand resting on the carved wooden wolf hidden beneath his cloak. "I was born a stray. I will die as your shield."