The fifth village offered no resistance.
The houses were already open when they arrived — doors torn off, windows shattered, wood marked by blunt impact. The smell came before the sight.
Iron.
Smoke.
And something denser… too recent.
The bodies were scattered without pattern. Some near the entrances, others in the middle of the dirt streets. None of them carried weapons. No sign of combat.
Nothing but interruption.
Marks were carved into the walls still standing — irregular symbols, cut in haste, too deep to be just a warning.
It wasn't looting.
It was repetition.
A method.
Further ahead, the sound of dragging.
Karna saw it first.
Two women being pulled by the arms, their feet carving grooves into the ground as they tried to resist.
One of them still fought — barely, but enough to be thrown against the side of a partially destroyed house.
"Move already, fuck." one of the mercenaries snarled, pulling harder. "The more you thrash, the more they pay."
Another laughed, spitting to the side.
"Fifth village… and people still think they can negotiate."
The door gave way with a kick.
They were thrown inside.
A muffled cry slipped out before the wood slammed back into place.
Karna took a step forward.
His body already leaning.
Telvaris grabbed his arm before the second.
Firm.
Without violence.
But enough.
Karna froze.
His gaze didn't leave the house.
Open disgust, without disguise.
"It's already the fifth village…" the voice came low, but heavy. "And it's always the same thing."
A short pause.
"We come in… they destroy… and take what they want."
His eyes narrowed.
"Women… children… always the youngest."
Another muffled scream escaped from the house.
Short.
Cut off.
Karna's jaw tightened.
"This isn't war… it's harvesting."
Telvaris didn't let go of his arm immediately.
When he spoke, the voice came controlled — but not empty.
"I understand how you feel."
A pause.
Short.
"But there's nothing we can do."
His gaze didn't go to Karna.
It remained ahead.
"If you attack now… this stops being a detour."
Another pause.
Heavier.
"It becomes a direct attack on the count."
Karna let out a short, humorless laugh.
He turned his face, finally looking at him.
"So that's it?"
A second.
"We just stay here… watching?"
His chin lifted slightly, tension clear.
"They're just peasants."
The silence that came after wasn't comfortable.
Telvaris released his arm slowly.
"Remember the plan, Karna."
His voice didn't rise.
But it hardened.
"Kael and Brianna are counting on us to do our part."
A pause.
"Not this one."
The wind passed through the broken structures.
Carrying ash.
Carrying the smell.
Karna looked away.
Shoulders still tense.
Breath held for a second longer than necessary.
"…Understood."
But he didn't look forward again immediately.
And, inside the house—
the sounds didn't stop.
The march didn't stop immediately.
The platoon moved on for a few more minutes, leaving the village behind as if that were just another point on the path — another mark to be forgotten.
But the silence wasn't the same.
It lingered, heavy.
Dragged along with them.
Dust rose under heavy boots when they finally stopped, at the edge of a road that wound toward the last village before the walls.
The sun was already hiding behind the hills, staining the sky blood-red.
The guard at the front raised his hand.
"Here."
No speech.
No explanation.
Just command.
The mercenaries began to spread out, some dropping the weight from their shoulders, others already looking for space like animals claiming territory.
Further back—
the chains.
The metallic sound came low, constant.
Karna turned his head.
The young women were there.
Grouped.
Dirty feet, torn clothes, hands bound to each other by chains too short to allow distance.
Some looked at the ground.
Others… didn't look at anything anymore.
His jaw locked.
His gaze hardened.
He said nothing.
But stayed a second longer than he should have.
"Not far now."
Telvaris's voice came at his side, low, steady.
"We'll reach the marquisate soon."
Karna exhaled through his nose, without taking his eyes off them.
"Yeah… that's what Kael said."
A short pause.
"Getting to the heart of this isn't going to be fast."
He finally looked away.
But the irritation didn't leave.
Telvaris kept his posture straight, watching the movement of the camp as if every detail mattered.
"So far… there's been no response."
The tone wasn't relief.
It was calculation.
"We've been attacking the villages in the territory."
A short pause.
"And no soldiers were sent."
Karna let out a low laugh.
Without humor.
"Like Brianna said."
A slight tilt of the head.
"They don't care about anyone outside the walls."
The wind passed between them, lifting dust and the dry smell of the road.
Telvaris didn't respond immediately.
His gaze moved across the camp again.
More attentive now.
"Even so… this isn't right."
His voice came lower.
More focused.
"The symbols."
A pause.
"The women."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"And aside from those two knights at the vanguard… we haven't seen any others with the county's emblem."
Silence.
Denser.
"This doesn't look like a disorganized advance."
Another pause.
"It looks… directed."
Karna crossed his arms, looking sideways.
"So it's not just a massacre…"
A second.
"It's a commissioned job."
Telvaris didn't respond.
He looked at Éreon.
"And you?"
The question came direct.
Without preamble.
"What do you make of it?"
The silence that followed wasn't long.
But it was enough to weigh.
Éreon didn't look at either of them immediately.
His eyes were on the camp.
On the chains.
On the men.
On what was still to come.
When he spoke, the voice came low.
Controlled.
"Don't lower your guard."
A pause.
Almost imperceptible.
"This hasn't truly begun."
As soon as night settled, the vanguard prepared to attack the last village.
Mercenaries who, at the beginning of the campaign, carried fear and hesitation now moved differently.
The gleam in their eyes was no longer uncertainty, but something lower — accustomed to looting, to blood, to the kind of violence that stops weighing after the first time.
Men who once hesitated… learned not to hesitate anymore.
But that village wouldn't be like the others.
The forest changed before any order was given.
The air became denser, heavier, as if each breath demanded effort.
The trees remained still, but there was something in them — something wrong, like a silent presence that didn't show itself, only watched.
Some men slowed without realizing. Others looked over their shoulders, finding nothing.
Still, the body reacted.
A chill ran down the spine.
Not ordinary fear… something older, more instinctive.
The clear sensation that they weren't advancing—
they were being waited for.
"Here."
Karna and Telvaris reacted in the same instant—
bodies turning on instinct, hands already near their weapons—
One of the mercenaries began to turn—
as if he had felt something.
Too late.
The sound came first.
Dry.
Blade cutting through flesh.
Two mercenaries fell before they even understood what had happened.
One of them still tried to complete the motion—
his legs failed.
Heads rolled across the leaf-covered ground.
When the group's eyes turned to the source of the attack—
she was already there.
Under the moonlight.
Still.
The presence came before the form.
A young woman with a straight, firm posture, occupying the space as if it were hers. Pink hair, tied in a long braid, moved slowly with the air. The steel armor bore old marks, engraved symbols that were not decorative — they were vows.
The sword rested low.
Ready.
Blue eyes did not hesitate.
Did not seek approval.
Only judgment.
When she spoke, she didn't need to raise her voice.
"Isabela Brynhildr."
A short pause.
"Valkyrie of the Western Marquisate."
Her gaze moved across the group.
Unhurried.
"If you can still remember anything…"
The blade lifted slightly.
"remember this name."
Silence.
Heavier.
"For the villages you burned…"
a slight tilt of the head
"no one crosses this forest."
One of the mercenaries stepped forward, axe resting on his shoulder, a crooked smile spreading across his face.
"Little girl… the battlefield isn't a place for you."
He spat on the ground, without taking his eyes off her.
"Five years fighting… and the only women I've seen there—"
the smile grew, dirty
"were under us."
Some laughed.
Others just watched.
"But you might be worth the effort."
A step forward.
"Drop the sword… take off that armor…"
he tilted his head slightly
"and maybe we—"
He didn't finish.
Isabela moved.
Her front foot sank into the ground — direct impulse.
Her body turned with it.
The blade crossed at neck height.
Clean.
No excess.
The head came loose before the body understood.
It spun in the air.
Fell among the leaves.
The body took two steps.
Empty.
Then collapsed.
Silence.
Heavier than before.
Isabela didn't look at the body.
The blade lowered slowly, blood running along the length of the steel.
"Circle of Judgment."
The air answered.
The flames came after.
First on the ground — thin lines, running between leaves and earth.
Then they rose.
Closing.
Forming a circle around the vanguard.
The heat came fast.
The space tightened.
Faces began to change.
"There's no exit."
The sword pointed to the center of the group.
"Only one way through."
Or falling.
The flames rose higher.
One mercenary tried to run.
He didn't make two steps.
The fire took him from the side, pulling a scream that died too fast.
The rest understood.
Too late.
Isabela advanced.
Direct.
The first strike came from above — shoulder to chest.
The blade went through.
The body gave.
She turned.
Elbow striking the next one's face — nose breaking, head thrown back.
The blade returned in a low arc.
Cut the knee.
The man fell screaming.
The second cut ended it.
No pause.
No hesitation.
Every movement was short.
Objective.
No waste.
Telvaris stepped back.
His eyes finally showing what he usually didn't.
"What… is she?"
Karna gripped the bow tighter, his gaze fixed on the scene.
"I've heard stories…"
He breathed through his nose.
Heavier.
"Valkyrie."
A second.
"And we walked straight into her judgment."
Éreon didn't move.
His eyes fixed on her. Reading.
Karna kept his gaze forward.
The mercenaries advanced—
and simply… ceased to exist.
No response.
No rhythm.
No fight.
Some still tried to retreat, others shouted orders that didn't hold — everything cut in half by clean strikes, too fast to follow.
The fire closed the space.
The blade decided the rest.
Karna exhaled through his nose, jaw locked.
"Right… so that's it. We just watch while she goes through the entire platoon?"
The voice came low, but carried a dry humor that didn't hide the discomfort.
Telvaris didn't answer immediately.
His eyes were no longer on the front line.
They moved across the surroundings with precision, analyzing, counting, searching for something out of pattern.
Then they stopped.
A second longer.
"The girls… are gone."
Karna turned his head at once.
"Of course they are." a short, humorless laugh. "Because clearly this wasn't bad enough."
His eyes returned to him, narrower now.
"Wait… you're saying that, in the middle of all this, the guys just grabbed them and left?"
His fists clenched.
"They're that important to them? They really think they're walking out of here with that thing right behind us?"
Telvaris kept his gaze fixed where they had been before.
"This doesn't smell right at all."
The answer came direct.
Without preamble.
He turned his face slightly.
"I have a bad feeling about this."
His eyes met Éreon's.
Éreon didn't answer immediately.
He was still watching Isabela, following every movement as if the rest no longer mattered.
"Yes."
Simple.
Without looking away.
Telvaris held his gaze for a second longer.
Measuring.
Confirming.
Then he nodded.
"Then I'm going after them."
Karna turned his whole body now.
"Oh, no. Don't even start."
He took a step forward, irritation evident.
"You're seeing what's happening here and you want to go off on something else?"
Telvaris didn't raise his tone.
"Exactly because of that. If this is a distraction, then what they're taking matters more."
Silence.
Heavy.
Karna ran a hand over the back of his neck, exhaling slowly.
"Great… perfect. We split the group in the middle of a massacre. Nothing can go wrong."
But he didn't insist.
Éreon moved.
One step forward.
Stopped beside Telvaris.
His hand rested on his shoulder, firm, precise.
Telvaris turned his face.
Their eyes met for a second.
It was enough.
He nodded.
And left.
Without looking back.
Karna stayed where he was, still tense, still clearly against the idea — but he didn't move.
He just watched Telvaris disappear into the shadows before turning his gaze back.
To her.
Éreon advanced half a step.
His hand dropped to the hilt.
The blade left the sheath with a dry, controlled sound.
His eyes didn't leave her.
"I know…"
A short pause.
"Totsuka no Tsurugi."
The shadow at Éreon's feet moved.
Spread — too fast.
Not like absence of light.
Like presence.
And, for an instant…
something within it looked back.