At first, it felt like a blunt punch—barely there—but then the pain struck, followed by heavy breathing and a faint sense of panic.
His bloodstained hands struggled to push Yuriko's sword out from his side. The tears across his back and abdomen, carved by Takae and Izumi, burned as if set alight.
The warm afternoon breeze became agony against his exposed flesh, and soon a wave of delirium began to set in.
With a weak kick, he forced Yuriko back, her body sliding away with little resistance.
His arms gave out, and he fell onto his back, staring up at the sky. He could have said something—but in that moment, there was nothing he felt needed to be said.
Then he felt a searing sensation at his neck. With trembling fingers, he reached for it—and sure enough, it was the mark of the crown.
He looked at Takae, her cold expression now replaced with exhaustion. Then he gritted his teeth and turned away.
The three stood on guard once more, expecting retaliation—but he did nothing other than limp away slowly in the opposite direction.
Confusion spread across their faces as they tried to understand his intent—until Yuriko caught a brief glimpse of his neck.
Fragments of the past flashed through her mind—the deaths of Asahi and his brothers—and in that instant, she remembered where she had seen that mark before.
"There's no way," she thought as she turned toward the village, where Kenji's corpse lay. "If that's the case… then why didn't he have it?"
Then it came—
An earth-shattering blast from the village, followed by a rising column of smoke.
The murmurs of the crowd broke into shouts as panic and anger spread among the villagers.
Beside Juro and Mei, the woman who had harassed them earlier collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she whispered, "Yuto… no."
Mei reached out toward her, but hesitated—her hand stopping midway. She said nothing and instead looked up at Juro.
He met her gaze briefly before turning back to the smoke rising in the distance. As time passed, the cries only grew louder.
One cried for his home. Another for his farm. Another for her clothes. Another for her door. Each voice was different—yet all were swallowed by the chaos.
Horror settled across Yuriko's face.
She knew what had happened—and why.
And as she looked back at Takeru, limping away, she knew what would happen next.
Izumi caught a glimpse of her expression and immediately tried to piece it together.
As the cloud of smoke billowed into the air, the crowd began moving away in fear.
"Get back!!" Yuriko yelled, her voice reverberating across the field.
Then she turned to Takeru, her grip on her sword tightening.
Miyuki tried to ask what was wrong, but before she could, Takeru came to a stop, drawing all their attention.
"It seems you've caught on quick," he said. "You're quite the sharp one, aren't you?"
As he turned, the horror on Yuriko's face deepened. From the mark, vein-like patterns spread across his body—especially his face—and the sclera of his eyes began turning red.
"I'm next," he said, his voice weaker.
"You don't mean—?" Takae said, her jaw dropping.
Izumi and Miyuki kept their guard up, a faint realization settling in as the seconds passed.
"I knew it," Yuriko said, breaking the silence. "So what's your endgame in this? You want to take us out with you?"
"I don't know, really," he replied. "Honestly, I'm pretty tired and dizzy. You three didn't hold back, did you?"
"I'll try moving back as far as I can," he said, turning away. "What happens after I pass out is up to you."
"Miyuki!" Yuriko yelled. "Set up a barrier for the villagers—we don't have time to get away!"
"Right!" she replied, already running back toward the crowd.
"Izumi, find any stragglers," Yuriko said as she turned to him. "Me and Takae will stay here and make sure the barrier can get set up."
He nodded and dashed from the scene.
Turning to Takae, Yuriko noticed her trembling—her body fidgeting uncontrollably as she tried to hold her stance.
"It's okay," Yuriko said, stepping closer and placing her hand over Takae's as she gripped her sword. "I'll make sure we make it out of this. I promise."
Takae's shaking eased as she looked at her. The warmth of Yuriko's touch steadied her pulse, and though she couldn't explain it, a calm washed over her.
With what could only be described as half-steps, Takeru limped forward, his eyes closing more and more with each step.
"Why am I even walking away?" he muttered—but before he could answer himself, he tripped over a root and fell face-first to the ground.
"That's it," he said as he rolled onto his back. "I can't move anymore."
He placed a hand over the wound on his abdomen and spoke in a low voice.
"It hurts so much… big brother, Asahi."
"Is this what you felt when he killed you?" he continued. "I couldn't imagine something like this setting you off."
With a faint turn of his head, he looked back toward the crowd—and at Takae.
Her face stirred something in him he couldn't explain.
Beside her, a faint silhouette appeared—blurry, yet firm and unwavering.
And at the sight of it, he couldn't help but chuckle.
The septa-circle that formed on the ground as Miyuki recited her incantations began to falter—and with it, her confidence.
"Yuriko," she called out, "it's not working."
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"The formation is lagging," Miyuki replied. "It must be because I'm exhausted."
Then she said the words that sealed it.
"It won't be ready in time."
Panic began to creep in again, but Yuriko forced herself to stay composed. If she broke, the crowd would follow.
All she could do was grit her teeth as she searched for another solution—but none came.
That was when it happened.
At first, she only saw strands of hair pass across her vision—but then she realized.
Takae—despite her earlier hesitation—was doing something she never would have expected.
She was charging straight toward Takeru.
"Takae!" Yuriko shouted—but there was no response. She didn't slow down.
In the next moment, Takae stood over him—and drove the tip of her blade through his shoulder.
He grunted in pain.
For a brief moment, she remained there, hunched over, her sword lodged in him.
Then she felt it—a spark across her skin. A thin stream of blood ran down the blade from her arm.
The blood began to pulse.
It spread—forming intricate, circuit-like patterns across his body and the ground beneath them, weaving outward until they formed a complete circle around them.
The glow intensified.
Takeru's body jolted—once, then again, and again—before finally going still.
As it faded, so too did the pattern.
And slowly, the mark on his neck disappeared.
She didn't realize it then—but in that moment, born from desperation, the subconscious contract she had formed with her spirit finally manifested.
Her saro sere.
In this state, its ability was simple: the direct nullification of a single attack—triggered by striking the attacker before the attack could be unleashed.
The attack nullified was the detonation of the mark.
But it came with limitations.
She needed to understand the nature of the incoming attack.
And if the opponent altered their intent after being struck, the effect would fail.
In its current form, still in its infancy, it was nothing more than a double-edged sword.
"Why didn't you just stab my heart and finish it?" he asked, breaking the silence. "I'm already dying anyway."
For a moment she stayed silent before saying, "Why? Why?"
His eyebrow rose in confusion.
"Why can't I hate you?" she asked. "Even after what you did to my home, why can't I hate you?"
To this question he smirked and said, "That's because we're the same. You can't hate those that you're cut from the same cloth from."
"What makes you different though," he said, his voice faltering, "is that you're not a slave like me."
"You can live your life the way you want to."
"No I can't," she said, cutting him off. "Not anymore."
"I guess I was quick to judge then," he said, "but what you still though is a future."
His eyes drifted off for a moment as he said, "Must be nice, a future where you can be free."
Then he felt a drop of water land on his cheek. Looking back up, he saw a thin stream of tears running down her face.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry that there was no one to save you from that awful life."
Seeing this, his smirk grew into a full smile as he said, "It's fine, that's just the kind of world we live in."
His vision began to blur as his face started to cloud over.
He couldn't muster the strength to say it, so he thought it out loud.
"Take care, my dear cousin," he thought. "I hope your life turns out better than ours did."
Then it blurred away completely before fading to nothing but black.
She said nothing and just sat there for a moment longer than she should have.
As the embers of his soul faded away, a tear ran down Ryuji's cheek, and for just that moment he came to a complete stop, not caring whether he got struck or not.