The train thundered through the darkness.
Steel wheels screamed against the rails as endless wilderness rushed past on both sides, blurred into streaks beneath the pale moonlight.
Between the cargo cars—
Draven stood silently.
The slime continued methodically cleaning the dried blood from his skin while the cat sat proudly upon his shoulder, its tail flicking lazily from side to side.
Nearby, Aldric remained leaning against a cargo container.
Waiting.
Watching.
Then—
Draven lowered his gaze slightly.
Inwardly—
he examined the folding mass.
The endless spiral rotated weakly within him.
Far slower than before.
Far less violently.
The reserves remaining inside him were pitiful.
Less than five percent.
A faint frown appeared on his face.
*Less than five percent.*
After everything.
After destroying the flagship.
After fighting Aurelia.
After fighting Roland.
After battling half the city.
He still hadn't killed her.
A waste.
Slowly—
a thin strand of mana separated from the folding mass.
Draven guided it through his body.
Along his arm.
Across his fingertips.
The mana touched the dark earring hanging from his ear.
A faint pulse spread outward.
The communication enchantment activated.
For a moment—
only static answered him.
Then a familiar voice emerged from the connection.
"My Lord."
Vaelith.
Draven leaned lightly against the cargo container behind him.
"We're finished here."
A brief pause.
"We're heading back."
His crimson eyes lowered slightly.
"Where are you?"
The connection remained stable.
Vaelith answered immediately.
"We were traveling west."
"However, two ships began tailing us."
Aldric's eyes shifted toward Draven.
Listening.
Vaelith continued calmly.
"I dealt with them."
Draven wasn't surprised.
"What happened afterward?"
"The ship altered course."
"We are currently traveling northeast."
A brief pause followed.
"I do not know which territory we are currently above."
"I'll confirm once I speak with the pilot."
Draven gave a faint nod.
Then he asked the question he actually cared about.
"How are they?"
For the first time—
Vaelith's voice softened.
Only slightly.
"Young Miss and Young Master are both asleep."
Silence followed.
The tension lingering within Draven's shoulders eased ever so slightly.
"Good."
The train continued racing through the darkness.
After a moment—
Draven spoke again.
"Don't bother with any further detours."
His crimson eyes drifted toward the distant horizon.
"I've been thinking."
A brief pause.
"The neighboring kingdom should be Eirundor."
"It shouldn't be too far from your current position."
"Confirm that with the ship's mage."
Vaelith remained silent.
Listening carefully.
Draven continued.
"Once you do, head directly to Eirundor."
"We'll handle things on our side."
Aldric raised an eyebrow.
Draven ignored him.
"We'll cross the border within the next few days."
"Four at most."
His voice remained calm.
Measured.
Once he made a decision—
he rarely revisited it.
"After entering Eirundor, find a remote location."
"Land the ship."
"Then contact me immediately."
A brief pause followed.
Then Vaelith replied without hesitation.
"Yes, My Lord."
The communication ended.
The faint glow within the earring faded.
Silence returned.
Only the endless sound of the train remained.
---
The train thundered onward through the night.
Steel wheels shrieked against the rails while distant mountains rolled past beneath the moonlit sky.
Between the cargo cars—
Aldric remained leaning against the container.
His crimson eyes narrowed slightly.
"Eirundor, huh?"
A pause.
Then he chuckled quietly.
"You know..."
"I honestly thought nobody had any idea where we were going anymore."
Draven didn't answer.
Aldric continued anyway.
"No one talks about it."
"Not anymore."
His gaze drifted toward the darkness rushing past beyond the train.
"But it seems that's not actually the case."
Another brief pause.
"Heading north instead of east."
"I noticed."
Draven's expression didn't change.
Aldric snorted.
"But I didn't say anything because I really didn't want to end up in that damned hideout."
His face twisted slightly.
"That place is full of rats."
The cat meowed.
As though agreeing.
Aldric pointed at it immediately.
"See?"
"Even the cat understands."
The cat ignored him completely.
Draven was already focused on something else.
He stared down at the black shortsword resting in his hand.
The blade was covered in cracks.
Tiny fractures spread across nearly its entire length.
One more serious battle and it would likely shatter completely.
Without a word—
he pushed the damaged weapon toward the slime.
The blue creature immediately stretched across the blade.
Methodically cleaning away the dried blood and residue coating the steel.
Meanwhile—
Draven reached into his spatial ring.
A fresh set of clothes appeared in his hand.
The ruined remains of his previous outfit had already been cleaned away by the slime.
What little remained was discarded without hesitation.
The slime climbed onto his head.
Carefully cleaning the dried blood from his white hair.
Draven changed calmly.
As though he weren't standing atop a speeding train after escaping one of the largest battles Blackwater had ever witnessed.
A dark long-sleeved shirt.
Black trousers.
Fresh boots.
A sturdy belt.
Simple.
Practical.
Efficient.
Once finished—
he looked entirely different from the blood-soaked monster who had walked through the military skyport.
The slime finally finished cleaning his hair.
Then happily bounced back down.
Returning to its usual shape.
The cat remained perched upon his shoulder.
Watching proudly.
Aldric stared for several seconds.
Then sighed.
"...That slime is incredibly convenient."
The slime wiggled happily.
Clearly pleased by the compliment.
Aldric pointed at his own clothing.
Blood.
Burn marks.
Sword cuts.
Half-dried gore.
"My clothes look terrible."
He glanced toward Draven.
"Got anything for me?"
Draven didn't even look up.
"The only spare clothes I have are my size."
A pause.
"Or baby clothes for Elenya and Lucifer."
"If you want a pair."
Silence.
Aldric stared at him.
Then deadpanned,
"How hilarious."
The cat meowed.
Which somehow made the situation worse.
Draven ignored both of them.
He slipped the storage ring back onto his finger.
Then pulled his dark cloak over his shoulders once more.
The hood settled into place.
Covering most of his face.
Only a faint glimpse of crimson eyes remained visible beneath the shadows.
Across from him—
Aldric finally waved one hand.
Mana rippled outward.
A thin crimson current swept across his body.
Most of the dirt.
Blood.
Ash.
And grime vanished instantly.
Not perfect.
But acceptable.
Afterward—
he activated the necklace hanging around his neck.
The enchantment shimmered softly.
His appearance shifted once again.
Crimson eyes dulled.
Facial features altered.
The familiar disguise returned.
Aldric looked down at himself.
Then nodded.
"Good enough."
A pause.
"I'll find actual clothes later."
The train continued racing through the night.
For a while—
neither of them spoke.
The Battle of Blackwater was behind them now.
The city still burned.
The Holy Empire was still searching.
The bounty on Draven's head had likely doubled before they had even cleared the city limits.
Yet for the first time in days—
there was no fighting.
No explosions.
No enemies trying to kill them.
Only the steady rhythm of steel wheels crossing endless rails.
Only the cold night wind.
Only the distant wilderness stretching beneath the moonlight.
And beneath the shadow of his hood—
Draven slowly closed his eyes.
Not asleep.
Simply thinking.
Eirundor.
Lucifer.
Elenya.
The Holy Empire.
The countless people hunting him.
And the battle he had failed to finish.
Aurelia had survived.
For now.
The thought lingered briefly.
A faint ember refusing to die.
Then it faded.
There would be other opportunities.
Other battlefields.
Other encounters.
For the moment—
they had escaped.
The Empire had failed.
And for the first time since entering Blackwater—
there was nothing demanding his blade.
Nothing demanding blood.
Only the road ahead.
The distant kingdom waiting beyond the horizon.
And the quiet certainty that this story was far from over.