They walked.
No words had been spoken since they left the village. There was only the sound of footsteps on the dry earth, the rustle of leaves in the wind, and occasionally, a muffled sob from one of them.
Razaq led the way. Usaid followed behind.
The supplies on their shoulders were sufficient—food, water, a change of clothes, and what little money they could find in the village storehouse. It wasn't much, but it was enough to get them to a destination they hadn't yet determined.
Razaq occasionally touched his waist. There, tucked away, was the katana with the pale green scabbard. Umbra. The only inheritance he had gained from that night. The only thing he had left.
Usaid had seen it, but he didn't ask. Perhaps later. Perhaps never.
The First Day.
They passed through dried-up rice fields and over small hills. The sun scorched their skin. Sweat soaked their backs. But there were no complaints. No long breaks. Only the steady rhythm of footsteps.
In the late afternoon, they stopped beneath a leafy tree. Usaid shared some hard bread and water.
"Ra, eat."
Razaq accepted without a word. He chewed slowly, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
Usaid watched him. He wanted to say so much, but all words felt hollow.
"Why are you staying so quiet?" Usaid finally asked.
Razaq didn't answer.
"I know you're hurting. I am too." Usaid swallowed hard. "But if you keep this all inside, you won't be strong enough to make it to the capital."
Razaq turned his head. "I am strong."
"I know. But you need to talk."
"For what?"
"So... so I don't feel like I'm alone in this."
Razaq went silent for a moment. Then he said, "I keep dreaming about them."
Usaid looked at him.
"Mom. Dad. They're cooking. Smiling. Just like before." Razaq swallowed hard. "Then I wake up. And I remember that I'm the one who killed them."
Usaid didn't know how to respond.
Razaq stood up. "Let's move."
That night, they slept in a small cave. The cold bit through their bones, but they were too exhausted to care.
The Second Day.
They entered a hilly region. The path grew steep, and the air turned colder. A thin mist shrouded the trees.
"Ra, let's rest for a bit," Usaid panted.
Razaq stopped and sat on a large boulder. Usaid sat beside him and opened their pack. Hard bread and plain water again.
"I miss rice," Usaid muttered. "Warm rice with salted fish. Just like how Mom used to cook it."
Razaq remained silent.
"I'm sorry... I..."
"It's okay." Razaq looked at him. "I miss it too."
They sat in silence for a while.
"Us."
"Hm?"
"Do you believe I'll be the one to kill them?"
Usaid looked at him. "I do."
"Why?"
"Because you're Razaq. My friend. The one who never gives up." Usaid gave a faint smile. "Even when you didn't get a grimoire, you still stood tall. Even when you had to kill your own parents, you're still standing. You'll kill them. I'm sure of it."
Razaq nodded. "Thanks."
"Let's keep going."
The Third Day.
That morning, the sky was clear. Not a single cloud. The sun was fierce.
They walked through a dry meadow, the brown grass reaching up to their waists. A strong wind occasionally kicked up dust.
Suddenly—
Whoosh...
A sound from above. Fast. Leaving a trail of orange light.
Razaq looked up. Five black dots were streaking across the sky. Mages on flying brooms. Orange robes fluttering behind them.
"Guild mages," Usaid whispered. "They're flying. So cool."
Razaq watched them until they vanished over the horizon.
"One day, me too."
Usaid turned. "On a broom?"
"Flying."
They continued their journey.
That night, they slept under a massive tree. A small campfire provided warmth. Usaid broke the silence.
"Ra, that sword of yours."
"Umbra."
"Umbra? Can it talk?"
Razaq nodded.
"What did it say when you first got it?"
Razaq paused. "It said, 'You have just summoned me.'"
"And now?"
"It's quiet now. Occasionally gives advice."
Usaid blinked. "Advice? Like what?"
"Like... 'retreat, slash,' things like that."
Usaid laughed. "Your sword is like a coach."
Razaq gave a thin smile. "Yeah."
They laughed softly together. For the first time in days.
The Fourth Day.
They passed through a bamboo forest. The path was slippery, and Usaid nearly fell several times.
"Ra, we're almost there, right?"
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? That means we've been walking for four days."
Razaq nodded.
Usaid sighed. "I didn't expect this. Back in the village, we only played in the woods near the house. Now... walking for days, leaving everything behind."
Razaq stayed silent.
"Ra, where do you think they are now? Those dark mages?"
Razaq stopped. Usaid stopped too. "Sorry... I..."
"I don't know either." Razaq looked at him. "But I will find them. No matter what."
Usaid nodded. "Together."
They walked on.
The Fifth Day.
That morning, a thick fog rolled in. Visibility was down to just a few meters.
But behind the mist, something slowly came into view.
A wall.
A red brick wall. Several small towers loomed high. The wooden gate looked weathered and old.
Razaq stopped, staring at it.
"Is that a city?" Usaid asked.
"Squalcro."
"How do you know?"
"I've heard of it. A small town before the capital."
They walked closer. The gate was open. Two middle-aged guards in shabby uniforms watched them.
"Where are you from?" one asked.
"The south," Usaid replied.
The guard scrutinized them—dirty clothes, weary faces. "What are you doing in the city?"
"Looking for an inn. To rest."
The guard nodded. "Head inside. But don't cause any trouble."
They entered.
Squalcro wasn't large, but it was bustling. Street vendors lined the roads. Children were running about. The smell of food wafted from all directions.
Usaid looked around. "Find an inn first?"
Razaq nodded.
They walked down the main street. At the far end, a wooden sign hung: The Night's Rest. It was a small inn with oil lamps on the porch.
"Let's try there," Usaid said.
Razaq nodded. They stepped inside.
A small bell above the door chimed. Ding.
Inside, a girl with shoulder-length black hair was writing in a large ledger. She looked up as they entered.
"Good evening. Looking for a room?"
Razaq froze.
That girl... her eyes... her smile...
Usaid turned. "Ra?"
Razaq didn't answer.
"Ra!"
Razaq snapped out of it. "Ah— yes. A room."
The girl smiled. "Two people? For how many nights?"
"One night," Usaid answered.
"Alright. That will be twenty coins."
Usaid paid. The girl handed over a key.
"Room number five. On the upper floor."
Usaid took the key. "Thanks."
Razaq remained silent. His eyes were still fixed on her.
Usaid tugged him along. "Come on, Ra."
They headed upstairs. Razaq followed, but he glanced back once.
The girl had returned to her writing. But for a brief moment, she looked up, watching Razaq's retreating back.
A small smile curled on her lips.