The group flew toward Salem, cutting through the sky like a black arrow at dusk. When they had set off for the village of Chagas, it had taken days… now, upon Kaien’s living scales—the dragon gifted by Isabella—time seemed to bend to urgency.

  But each beat of the dragon’s wings tore at Yuzuki like an invisible blade.

  He could not ignore what he had left behind.

  Isabella’s words echoed in his mind like a cursed whisper:

  “Do good… to receive.”

  “I accepted…” Yuzuki murmured, then his voice grew sharp, raw. “She gave me Kaien for saving her. And now… she may be dead because of me. Everything I touch… everything I receive… dies.”

  The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the wind’s hum slicing through clouds and the heavy thump of Kaien’s heart felt beneath the group’s feet.

  Akari slept deeply, her body exhausted after the brutal fight with Luna.

  Zeke and Gotier heard Yuzuki’s words—heavy as stones cast into an abyss.

  The sun broke the horizon, but its light was not golden. It was blood-red, thick and almost alive, staining the leaves of the trees, the rivers, and the silent faces. An omen painted in hues of death.

  Gotier felt the young man’s pain.

  He wanted to say something. Wanted to strip that guilt from Yuzuki’s shoulders, but… he understood that words would be empty. Instead, he walked to him, touched his shoulder with the gentleness of a father seeing his son about to break, and said only:

  “I’m here, Yuzuki.”

  Zeke watched in silence. The simple gesture, the quiet presence…

  Then he spoke—his voice deep, carried by invisible scars:

  “My life… my clan… everything was destroyed, and I never stood against it. I accepted it as if it were the natural course of things. I… envy you, Yuzuki. Your courage is something I never knew. And even if the world calls you cruel… to me, you are the beginning of a new life.”

  Yuzuki did not answer. He only stared at the horizon.

  The dragon flew as if it understood—sharing the guilt and the pain.

  Tears ran down his face. For the first time in many years… he cried.

  Not from weakness, but because he was human.

  Amok—his inner Kugutsu—watched from the deepest abyss of his soul.

  “I’m with you, boy…” the voice echoed inside him, silent as the memory of an old embrace.

  Then, like poison whispered in his ear, Mao appeared—laughing. Loud. Cruel. A demon cackling in the cracks of his soul.

  “HAAHAHAHAHAH! Yuzuki… wherever you go, everything rots. Everything you touch turns to shit.

  Your only talent… is destruction. And you do it so well that it turns me on.

  The opponent awaiting you in Salem will make you scream.

  And when you beg me for help… I… WILL… REFUSE.

  With all my pleasure.”

  The words sank in like claws, but Yuzuki ignored them.

  He was no longer alone.

  Kaien roared in the sky. The clouds tore apart like shredded veils.

  The earth below was a mosaic of silence and destruction awaiting them.

  And before the next sunset… they would stand before the doomed city.

  On the horizon, columns of smoke rose like pillars of hell, tearing the sky into black spirals. The fine rain that fell carried the acidic scent of sulfur and burnt blood. The blue sky, once clear and calm, slowly dissolved like ink in filthy water—a grim metamorphosis that shaped black clouds, molded like beasts in flight. It was as if nature itself wished to abandon Salem.

  The golden light that had guided them since the Tree was now swallowed by a thick veil of ash. No sunbeam touched the cursed ground. The twisted trees seemed to burn from within, and the entire city had become a silent war zone, choked by distant screams, whispers of agony, and the clinking song of despair.

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  Though it was midday, the sky over Salem was an oppressive night.

  Kaien, the dragon, flew more slowly. His bones trembled in silence. A viscous, invisible aura weighed on his wings—something ancient, repulsive, profane. Yuzuki, Gotier, and Zeke felt the same pressure in their hearts, as if an unseen hand sought to crush them. They already knew what it was: the Lepra King’s mark.

  Akari remained asleep, her features drawn with fatigue after the brutal battle. The ash-laden wind touched her skin with the cruel gentleness of a farewell.

  Kaien swept over Salem’s darkened skies, surveying the devastation below—charred bodies, torn houses, rivers overflowing with blood and smoke.

  “Kaien!!” Yuzuki shouted, his voice cutting through the air. “Take Akari away from here! That’s an order! Do not question! It’s dire. When she wakes, bring her back. The battle will be fierce!”

  Kaien did not reply. His fierce eyes met Yuzuki’s in silent understanding.

  “Gotier!” Yuzuki said firmly. “Go with Kaien. Use your herbs, your prayers… heal whatever remains of her. She must awaken. We need Akari… and Zyon.”

  Gotier had never seen Yuzuki like this—he who always hid his emotions behind a steady face now spoke with urgency, with fear. Something that day had shattered Yuzuki inside. Something he knew… but could not yet speak.

  “Yes! Leave it to me!” Gotier answered fervently, pressing the cross against his chest. He lifted Akari carefully, mounted Kaien, and vanished into the burning mist.

  Zeke then looked at Yuzuki. No words were needed. They both knew what to do.

  “Zeke… come,” Yuzuki whispered with the calm of one prepared to die for a cause.

  They leapt from the dragon’s back, piercing the shroud of smoke that hid the city from light. They landed on an ancient tower, blackened by soot, with a broken silver bell atop it. And there, the horror revealed itself.

  Before them stood a colossal dragon—a Tailax—its serpentine body winding through the ash clouds, wreathed in living flames that never died. Its head pierced an old church, devouring worshippers as if chewing bread. The crack of bones echoed through stained-glass windows. Blood dripped over the sacred panes, painting faith’s remnants in crimson.

  “Pay attention, Zeke.” Yuzuki’s voice was a steel thread. “You will pull as many people out of this city as you can. I’ll distract the dragon. When I’m done, come help me. Understood?!”

  Zeke simply nodded. There was no time for argument. Below in the street, mutilated bodies floated in blood pools, arms and legs discarded like broken toys.

  He drew his sword, marked with the Salt clan symbol, and met Yuzuki’s gaze.

  “Yuzuki… why did you spare me?” The question came from Zeke’s depths. He needed an answer.

  Yuzuki stared at him in silence.

  “Everyone deserves a second chance… even the king’s loyal dogs.”

  Zeke frowned.

  “But you, Yuzuki? Do you deserve one?”

  The wind answered, carrying ash into the air. Yuzuki said nothing—he leapt toward the dragon.

  “Firm steps.

  With every touch of Yuzuki’s foot to the ground, the blood running through the streets spiraled up in little eddies, staining his boots. The city breathed death. The dragon, immense, exhaled an aura of rot, despair, and agony. Its body was golden—scales gleaming like diamonds tainted by sin. It was beautiful—an absurd beauty amid the filth, as if hell itself had given birth to a fallen angel.

  A macabre symphony echoed: screams, bones snapping, the sound of flesh being torn apart… Yet even there, there was beauty. A hope that shone… false, cruel, treacherous.

  The dragon lifted its head from within the church.

  Yuzuki narrowed his eyes.

  “Did you feel it…?” he murmured, concerned. “That bitch felt my aura. I lowered it… to human level.”

  The creature’s gaze locked onto him. And then…

  “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

  A roar ripped the world apart. Houses trembled. bodies on the ground were hurled like rag dolls. Hot, dense blood splashed onto Yuzuki’s clothes.

  “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

  The dragon smiled—a human smile, a grotesque arc from ear to ear.

  “My pleasure… my name is Kerchack.”

  His voice sounded like thunder intertwined with war drums. The sound filled the air, vibrated in the bones, infected the surroundings like a sonic plague.

  Yuzuki drew a deep breath.

  “My pleasure… Yuzuki.”

  Kerchack bit down on a piece of wood, sharpening his teeth with bestial calm.

  “That was tasty… nourishing. A pure body. Children… such a nutritious dish…”

  Those words… “Children.” Yuzuki’s mind froze.

  Like a scratched record, the memory of his brother replayed: their parents’ smiles during the ritual, the King of Kugutsu’s laughter, the clan leaders complicit, Isabella handing Kaien into his hands…

  “Do good… to receive.” That phrase. That damned phrase.

  “Your brother… was a fine sacrifice,” murmured Mao inside his mind. “He fed me. Child flesh is so… succulent…”

  Yuzuki’s scream was a cleaving thunderbolt:

  “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOO!!!”

  The sound was so fierce that even Kerchack took a step back. For a moment, Yuzuki seemed the very dragon.

  “Too many children have died. I’m bound for hell… but I’ll take everyone with me.”

  Those words fell like verdicts. The city fell silent.

  For a moment, golden light pierced the ash that cloaked Salem and settled upon Yuzuki. His body trembled. Blood dripped from his bitten lips. His hands clutched at hair now stained grey with ash.

  He smiled. A mad smile. Insane. Laughing, almost in frenzy.

  “Come to me… AMOK!!!”