CHAPTER 27 — THE PHANTOM'S GUIDING LIGHT
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They stood in that altar room for a while after successfully freeing the unknown girl from the chains that bound her. The atmosphere around them remained silent—too silent—but there were no signs of the hooded figures they had seen earlier. Perhaps they had gone another way. Perhaps they were waiting in hiding. Or perhaps, they had never truly left.
Kyoichiiro didn't know. And he had no time to find out.
The girl lying on the altar was still unconscious. Her body was small and thin, almost like Elunie, but weaker, paler. Her long, tangled black hair covered part of her paper-white face. Her lips were bluish, nearly the same color as her cold skin. Around her neck, the iron chain with the deep purple magic circle still coiled—Aetheria had just unlocked it, but the scars on her skin were still clearly visible. The same went for her wrists and ankles.
Aetheria: (Crouching beside the altar, her golden-glowing hand touching the girl's wrist) "Her pulse... is very weak. Much weaker than Elunie's. I don't know if she'll survive if we don't get her out soon."
Amura: (Standing near the door, his eyes watching the dark passage outside) "We can't get her out if we don't know the way out. The passages here are like a labyrinth. And we've been going in circles since we entered."
Kyoichiiro: (Standing on the other side of the altar, his eyes fixed on the girl's face. He observed every detail: the scar on her left temple, the bruise on her jaw, and something strange at the corner of her eye—like the trace of dried tears) "She's been here a long time. Much longer than Elunie. Look at the chain marks. They've hardened, some have even fused with her skin."
Aetheria: (Biting her lip, her hands pausing for a moment) "I... I can't heal wounds like that quickly. It takes time. And I don't know how much time we have."
Kyoichiiro: (Straightening up, his gaze shifting to the door—to the dark passage that never stopped whispering) "We don't have much time. But we can't leave her here either."
He walked to the door, standing beside Amura. The katana at his waist was still sheathed, but his hand was already on the hilt—ready to draw at any moment. His eyes pierced the darkness, trying to see something—anything—that might give them a clue about which direction to take.
Amura: (Whispering, without turning) "Kyoichiiro-san... do you hear that?"
Kyoichiiro: "What?"
Amura: "A sound. Like... like someone walking above us."
Kyoichiiro looked up. The ceiling of the altar room was made of compacted earth, with tree roots dangling in several places. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. But Amura wouldn't speak without reason.
Kyoichiiro: (Silent for a moment, then shaking his head) "I don't hear anything. But that doesn't mean there's nothing there."
He returned to the altar, approaching Aetheria, who was still busy healing the wounds on the unknown girl's wrists.
Kyoichiiro: "Aetheria, that's enough for now. We have to go. Out there—"
He didn't finish his sentence. Because at that moment, without warning, without sound, without any preceding shadow—something shot from the darkness of the passage.
Fast. Silent. Without a trace.
CRACK!
Kyoichiiro felt something pierce his right upper arm. Not the usual pain he was familiar with—not like a knife stab or a sword slash. This was different. As if something was destroying from within, tearing muscle fibers and veins before he could even register the touch.
He gasped—not a scream, but the sound that escaped his mouth was more like a suppressed groan. His eyes fell to his arm, and he saw an arrow embedded there.
Not an ordinary arrow. Its shaft was made of an unknown dark wood, with strange carvings that glowed faintly under the light of Amura's fireball. The arrowhead was made of black metal—not iron, not steel, but something darker, duller, almost like stone. And around the wound, blood began to flow. Not a little. A lot.
Aetheria: (Startled, her hands rising reflexively) "Kyoichiiro-san—!"
Amura: (Turning around, sword drawn, the fireball in his left hand burning brighter) "From where?!"
He stared into the passage, in every direction. No one was there. No footsteps. No breath sounds. No moving shadows. Only darkness and whispers growing louder.
Kyoichiiro: (His voice strained, but not panicked) "I don't know. I didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything. Suddenly... it was just there."
He looked down at the arrow embedded in his arm. Blood continued to flow, soaking his torn sleeve, dripping onto the earthen floor beneath his feet. The fresh red contrasted sharply with the dark ground, like a flower blooming in the middle of darkness.
Amura: (Still alert, his eyes never stopping) "That's impossible. Even I, with senses sharper than an ordinary human, can't detect where it came from. It's as if... that arrow just appeared in your arm."
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, his mind racing) Every attack must have a source. But if even Amura can't detect it... He clenched his left fist. ...then the attacker isn't here. Or not in the same dimension as we are.
Aetheria: (Her hands already glowing, approaching Kyoichiiro's arm) "Let me pull it out—"
Kyoichiiro: (Raising his left hand, stopping Aetheria) "Not yet."
He examined the arrow more closely. The arrowhead had an unusual shape—triangular, but not equilateral. Its edges were not straight, but finely serrated, like small backward-facing saw teeth. And on each serration, there was a blackish, shiny liquid—not oil, not blood, but something thicker, stickier.
Poison, he thought. Or something worse than poison.
Kyoichiiro: (Voice flat, but with a note of intense concentration) "This arrow was specially designed. If you pull it out normally, the serrations on the head will tear the flesh deeper. And that black liquid on the tip... probably poison. Or a curse."
Amura: (Still alert, but his eyes occasionally glanced at Kyoichiiro's arm) "So what do we do?"
Kyoichiiro: (His left hand gripping the arrow shaft—not pulling, but holding it tightly) "I'll break the shaft first. At least that will reduce the risk of the serrations moving."
He took a deep breath. His hand gripped the wooden shaft—rough, cold, and faintly pulsing like a living thing. With a quick, decisive motion, he bent the shaft sideways.
CRACK!
The wood snapped. Half the shaft remained embedded in his arm, the arrowhead still inside. The other half fell to the ground, rolling briefly before stopping near Aetheria's feet.
Kyoichiiro: (Exhaling, cold sweat beginning to form on his forehead) "Now... pull it out."
Aetheria: (Her hands trembling, but she brought both palms close to Kyoichiiro's arm) "This... this is going to hurt a lot."
Kyoichiiro: (Flat) "I know."
Aetheria bit her lower lip. Her golden-glowing hands touched the skin around the wound—not healing, but soothing, numbing the pain slightly. Then, with a quick and certain motion, she pulled out the remaining arrow shaft.
Blood spurted. Not just from the arrow hole, but from the small wounds created by the serrations as the shaft was pulled out. Kyoichiiro gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw tensing, but he made no sound. No groan. No hiss. Just silence, enduring.
Aetheria: (Her hands immediately pressing on the wound, golden light spreading rapidly) "I'll heal it. But the poison... the poison is already spreading."
Kyoichiiro looked down. Around his wound, his skin color was changing—not red, not blue, but a blackish purple, like a decaying bruise. And that color didn't stop at his arm. It spread. Slowly but surely. To his shoulder. To his chest. To his neck. And to his leg.
Kyoichiiro: (To himself) Fast.
Amura: (Still near the door, but his eyes now fixed on Kyoichiiro) "That poison... is spreading quickly. We can't stay here any longer."
Kyoichiiro: (Nodding, his voice slightly strained from the spreading pain) "Take the girl. Aetheria, can you walk on your own?"
Aetheria: "I... I can. But you—"
Kyoichiiro: (Cutting in) "I can. Don't worry."
---
They walked out of the altar room. Amura in front, carrying the unknown girl on his back—her small, light body barely felt like any burden. Aetheria in the middle, her hand occasionally touching Kyoichiiro's arm to make sure he was still there. Kyoichiiro at the rear, his steps slow but steady, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.
The underground passages hadn't changed. Still dark. Still whispering. Still smelling of damp earth and something rotten. They walked for perhaps fifteen minutes—or more, Kyoichiiro could no longer measure—when his legs began to feel very heavy.
Not from fatigue. But from the poison.
The purple color on his leg had now reached his thigh. And from his right arm, that same color was spreading as well, even though Aetheria had healed the external wound. This poison wasn't only spreading through his bloodstream, but also through something else—something that ordinary healing magic couldn't cure.
Kyoichiiro: (Stopping, one hand bracing against the wall to support himself) "Wait."
Amura: (Turning, his eyes startled by Kyoichiiro's condition) "Kyoichiiro-san—"
Kyoichiiro: (Raising a hand, cutting him off) "I just need... to rest a moment. My legs are going numb."
Aetheria: (Immediately kneeling beside him, her hands glowing) "Let me—"
Kyoichiiro: (Shaking his head) "You can't. This poison can't be cured with ordinary healing magic. It's... something that attacks not just flesh, but also..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Because he didn't know what to call it.
Amura: (Setting the girl down carefully, then walking forward—toward a wider part of the passage) "There's something ahead. A wall. But... its color is different."
Kyoichiiro looked up. Amura was right. At the end of the passage, about twenty meters from them, there was a wall. Not the usual earthen wall, but a wall made of light—a deep purple light that pulsed like a sick heart.
Kyoichiiro: (Exhaling, trying to stand straight) "That wall... it's the same as the one in the forest. But this time, it's visible."
Amura: (Approaching, reaching out his hand to touch the wall) "I'll try—"
Kyoichiiro: (Quickly) "Don't. Your sword is nearly destroyed. If you try again with your bare hand..."
Amura: (Stopping his hand a few centimeters from the wall) "But we can't stop here. Your poison is still spreading. Aetheria can't heal it. And behind us..."
He didn't continue. But Kyoichiiro understood. From a distance, from the passage they had just come from, the whispers were changing. No longer like the sound of wind or water. But like the sound of footsteps. Many footsteps. Approaching.
Aetheria: (Trembling, her hand grabbing Kyoichiiro's arm) "They're... they're coming."
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, his eyes fixed on that purple wall. He tried to think—to find a way out, to find a gap, to find anything that could save them. But his mind felt foggy. The poison was beginning to affect not just his body, but also his mind.)
---
KYOICHIIRO — DESPAIR
Seconds felt like minutes. Minutes felt like hours. And hours felt like his entire short, failure-filled life.
Kyoichiiro didn't know when he had started to fall. Perhaps when his numb legs finally gave out. Perhaps when he realized that the purple poison had reached his chest, making every breath feel like inhaling fire. Or perhaps when he saw Aetheria trembling beside him, her face wet with tears that wouldn't stop flowing. Or when he saw Amura standing before that purple wall, trying to cut through it again and again with his remaining sword, even though each strike only made the blade thinner, more fragile.
Or perhaps, he hadn't fallen. Perhaps he had fallen long ago—since the first time he realized he couldn't save everyone. That he couldn't be the perfect hero. That he was just a boy who happened to have memories from a previous life, but not the power, not the magic, not the miracles.
There's nothing special about me, he thought, his back against the cold wall, his numb legs stretched out on the ground. I'm just someone too arrogant to admit that I know nothing.
He looked at Aetheria. The little girl with long blonde hair and pink eyes was now trying to heal his wound again—the golden light in her palms flickering weakly, like a candle almost burned out. She was exhausted. Kyoichiiro could see it in the way her shoulders drooped, in the way her breath came in ragged gasps, in the way her eyes began to glisten every time the light nearly died.
Aetheria, he thought. She's been scared from the start. But she still came. Because I asked her to.
He looked at Amura. The boy with red hair and red eyes now stood before the purple wall, his remaining sword already cracked in several places. Each time he swung his sword, the wall trembled slightly, but didn't break. Only his sword crumbled further. And Amura—Amura, who was usually always smiling, always joking, always looking like nothing could bother him—now looked desperate. His eyes were red from anger? Or from something else? Kyoichiiro didn't know.
Amura, he thought. He trusted me. He followed me here because he thought I knew what I was doing. But I didn't. I never knew.
He looked down at his own hands. His right hand—the one shot by the arrow—was still wrapped in dirty bandages, with purple spreading from the wound to his elbow, to his shoulder, to his chest. His left hand—still intact, but trembling. Trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Why am I like this? he thought, his chest feeling tight—not from the poison, but from something else. Something heavier. I've already died once. I shouldn't be afraid of dying again. But... I am afraid. Not for myself. But for them.
He looked at Aetheria. Then at Amura. Then at the unknown girl lying on the ground, pale as a corpse.
They're depending on me. Everyone is depending on me. Elunie. Claire. Aetheria. Amura. This girl. And I... I can't do anything. I have no power. No magic. I only have... memories of a failed life.
His eyes began to feel hot. Not from the poison. Not from exhaustion. But from something he hadn't felt in a long time—since he died in his previous life, since he saw Cellia crying over his body, since he realized he couldn't protect anyone.
Cellia... he thought, and that name felt like a knife stabbing his chest. I'm sorry. Your brother couldn't... protect you.
He didn't realize that tears were beginning to fall. Didn't realize that Aetheria had stopped healing and was staring at him with worried eyes. Didn't realize that Amura had turned around and was looking at him.
All he realized was the pain—not in his body, but in a deeper place. A place no magic could heal.
Aetheria: (Whispering, her voice choked) "Kyoichiiro-san... you're... you're crying."
Those words were like a lightning strike. Kyoichiiro flinched. He raised his left hand to his cheek, touching the tears that were falling. Warm. Wet. Real.
Tears, he thought, confused. I'm... crying?
He had never cried. Not since being born in this world. Not since watching his mother die. Not since reading Hiyori's last letter. Not since leaving Claire in the village. He had locked all of that inside an iron box in his heart, and thrown away the key.
But now, that box was open. Or perhaps, he had never truly locked it. He had only pretended.
Amura: (Approaching, his voice no longer as firm as before—now soft, almost a whisper) "Kyoichiiro-san... what's happening?"
Kyoichiiro didn't answer. He just stared ahead—at the pulsing purple wall, at the darkness around him, at the passage behind them where the whispers grew closer.
We're going to die here, he thought. All because of me. Aetheria. Amura. This girl. They're going to die because of me.
He clenched his fist—not from anger, but from despair. Because there was nothing he could do. Because he was weak.
I shouldn't have led them here. I should have gone alone. I should have...
He didn't finish the thought. Because at that moment, in the depths of his deepest despair, in the darkness that was beginning to swallow him, amid the growing whispers—
He heard something.
Not a sound from the passage. Not from the wall. Not from Aetheria or Amura.
A sound from within himself? Or from some place he couldn't explain?
Soft. Calm. Like wind whispering in his ear.
"Kyoichiiro-san..."
He looked up.
---
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN — APPEARANCE
Behind that pulsing purple wall, behind the light that should have been impenetrable to human eyes, there was a shadow. Not a dark shadow, but a bright shadow. White. Faint. Like moonlight breaking through thin clouds on the darkest night.
Kyoichiiro rubbed his eyes. Once. Twice. Three times.
He thought it was just a hallucination from the poison. Or from exhaustion. Or because he had gone mad.
But the shadow didn't disappear. In fact, it grew clearer.
A woman.
Standing behind the wall. Or perhaps inside the wall? Kyoichiiro didn't know. What he knew was that he could see her clearly—as clearly as he saw Aetheria beside him, as clearly as he saw Amura before him.
Her hair was white. Not grey, not silver, but white like fresh snow on a winter morning. Long, cascading over her shoulders and back, moving gently even though there was no wind—as if that hair lived its own life.
Her dress was white. Simple. Not shiny, not luxurious, but clean—too clean for a place this filthy, too clean to be real. As if that dress were made of light, not fabric.
Her skin was pale. But not like a corpse. Pale like porcelain, like the moon shining in a dark night, like a lily blooming in snow.
And her face...
Kyoichiiro couldn't see her face. Too bright. Too dazzling. As if light radiated from that face, but not blinding—just... impenetrable. Unfocusable. Every time he tried to see details, the light shifted, blocked, as if that face didn't want to be recognized.
But he knew the woman was smiling. He could feel it from the way she stood, from the way she tilted her head slightly, from the way her right hand was raised—palm open, slender fingers, as if waving or inviting.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, his voice hoarse, barely audible above the whispers from the passage) "Who...?"
The woman didn't answer with words. But her smile widened slightly—Kyoichiiro could feel it, even though he couldn't see it.
And then, he heard her voice.
Not in his ears. But in his head. Inside his mind. Like a very soft, very close, very warm whisper.
Mysterious Woman: (A whisper, smooth as silk, calm as a lake at dawn) "Kyoichiiro-san..."
Her name. The woman knew his name. Not "that kid" or "boy" or "young master." But Kyoichiiro-san. With polite honorific, with gentle intonation.
Kyoichiiro felt his chest vibrate. Not from fear. Not from surprise. But from something else. Something he couldn't name. Something that felt like... memory. But memory of what? He had never met this woman. He was certain.
Or... had he?
Kyoichiiro: (His voice cracking, unlike usual—there was a tremor in it, a fragility he had never shown anyone) "You... who are you? How do you know my name? Why do you—"
He couldn't continue. His chest felt too full. His eyes were still wet. Tears he couldn't control kept falling.
Mysterious Woman: (Still smiling, her raised right hand now moving—her index finger pointing to the side. To the left. Toward the wall they had assumed was a dead end) "The way to safety... is there."
Kyoichiiro looked left.
On the left side of the passage, where moments ago there had only been an ordinary earthen wall, there was now another passage. Dark. Deep. Its end invisible. But from within that passage, he could feel air—air different from the previous passages. Fresher. Drier. Like air coming from outside.
He looked back at the woman.
She nodded. Slowly. Her eyes—though invisible—felt as if they were looking at him with great warmth. With great... something. Something that made Kyoichiiro want to cry harder, even though he didn't know why.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, his voice choked) "You... are you real? Or am I just... hallucinating from the poison?"
The woman didn't answer. She just laughed—a small, soft laugh, like a mother's laugh upon hearing her child's innocent question. And as she laughed, her body began to fade. From the edges inward. From feet to head. Like a watercolor painting touched by raindrops.
Kyoichiiro: (Reflexively reaching out his left hand—not to grab, but to... plead?) "Don't... don't go. I haven't—"
But the woman was already gone. Only her smile remained—briefly, then vanished. And where she had stood, only the pulsing purple wall remained, indifferent to the tears still flowing down the cheeks of a boy who never cried.
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, barely audible) "Thank you..."
He didn't know why he said it. But it felt... right.
---
AMURA AND AETHERIA'S REACTION
Amura: (Approaching, his eyes full of concern—something rarely seen on his usually cheerful face) "Kyoichiiro-san? You're... you're crying."
Kyoichiiro flinched. He raised his left hand to his cheek, touching the tears still falling. Warm. Wet. Real.
Kyoichiiro: (Confused, his voice hoarse, almost like someone just waking from a dream) "I'm... crying?"
Aetheria: (Approaching from the other side, her eyes also wet—not because she was crying, but because seeing Kyoichiiro cry made her want to cry too) "Kyoichiiro-san... what happened? Did you see something?"
Kyoichiiro: (Still staring at the empty wall behind the purple wall, where the woman had been moments ago) "You... you didn't see her?"
Amura: (Shaking his head, his face confused and worried) "There's nothing there. Just the wall. And the purple wall ahead."
Aetheria: (Also shaking her head, her hand gripping Kyoichiiro's arm tightly) "I just saw you staring at an empty wall... and then you started crying."
Kyoichiiro fell silent. His mind spun, trying to find an explanation. Hallucination from the poison? A daydream? Or something real, but only he could see?
But why? he thought. Why only me?
Kyoichiiro: (Whispering, more to himself) "There was a woman... white hair, white dress. She was standing behind this wall. She smiled. She called my name. Then she pointed to the left..."
He looked left. That dark passage was still there. Not gone. Not changed. As if that passage had been there from the start, waiting.
Kyoichiiro: "She showed the way."
Amura: (Hesitant, but his voice no longer tense—perhaps because he saw that Kyoichiiro no longer looked as desperate) "Are you sure? Maybe the poison has started to—"
Kyoichiiro: (Cutting in, his voice firm even though there was still a tremor in it) "I don't know if it was real or a hallucination. But we have no choice. Behind us, the hooded figures are getting closer. Ahead, there's a wall we can't break. The only path we haven't tried is... the left."
Amura: (Exhaling, then nodding) "Alright. I trust you."
Aetheria: (Nodding, even though her hands were still trembling) "Me too."
Kyoichiiro stood—or at least, tried to stand. His legs were still numb, and the purple on his legs had now reached his waist. But he couldn't stop. Not now.
That woman showed the way, he thought. I have to believe. For their sake.
He stepped into the left passage. Amura and Aetheria followed. Amura carried the unknown girl on his back, her small, light body barely noticeable. Aetheria walked beside Kyoichiiro, her hand still holding his arm—not to support, but to feel that he was still there.
---
THE JOURNEY OUT
The left passage was narrow. Narrower than the previous passages. The walls were closer, nearly touching their shoulders if they walked side by side. The temperature here was colder—not a natural cold, but a bone-piercing cold, like being in a meat storage room or a basement never touched by sunlight.
But there was one difference.
No whispers.
No dripping water. No footsteps. No strange sounds from behind the walls. Only total silence—a silence so thick they could hear their own heartbeats, their own breaths, even their own blinks.
Aetheria: (Whispering, her voice sounding too loud in that silence) "It's so quiet..."
Amura: (Also whispering) "Yes. Too quiet. As if this place... is afraid of something."
Kyoichiiro: (Didn't answer. He just kept walking, his eyes straight ahead, following the passage that never turned)
They walked. Step by step. Ten steps. A hundred. Perhaps a thousand. It was hard to measure time in a place with no markers other than their own footsteps and the same unchanging earthen walls.
Each step felt heavy. Kyoichiiro didn't know if it was from the poison still spreading through his body, or from the exhaustion building up, or from the psychological weight of everything they had experienced. Perhaps all of it.
But he kept walking.
His numb legs began to feel strange—like walking on cotton, or on clouds. No sensation of the ground beneath his soles. He only knew he was moving forward because his body was moving, because Aetheria beside him was moving, because Amura ahead of him was moving.
After walking a long time—perhaps twenty minutes, perhaps an hour—the passage began to widen slightly. The walls no longer felt so close. The air was no longer so cold. And in the distance, Kyoichiiro could see something.
Not light. Not a door. But... a change. The wall on the right began to differ. No longer compacted earth, but brick—old, damp brick, overgrown with thick green moss in several places.
Kyoichiiro: (Pausing for a moment, his eyes examining that wall) "This... is different."
Amura: (Also stopping, turning right) "Brick. We might be close to... something. A building? Or a foundation?"
Aetheria: (Approaching the wall, touching that green moss with her fingertips) "This moss... is alive. Unlike other places that felt dead."
Kyoichiiro nodded. He sniffed the air—still cold, but no longer reeking like the drainage channel. The air here was cleaner, drier.
They kept walking.
A few minutes later—or perhaps more—they reached a turn. To the right. The passage turned sharply, and from beyond that turn, a sound emerged. Not whispers, but the sound of flowing water. A sound they had heard before, but different.
Amura: (Stopping at the corner, turning back) "Another drainage channel. But... the smell isn't as strong as before."
Kyoichiiro: (Approaching, sniffing the air) "Yes. Maybe it's no longer in use. Or maybe... this is a different channel."
They turned right.
Before them stretched a wider passage—wide enough for two people to walk side by side without touching the walls. On the right side of the passage, water flowed. Not murky like before, but somewhat clear—perhaps because it had been flowing for a long time, or perhaps because the water came from a different source. The walls here were also different: no longer earth, but old brick overgrown with green moss, not only on the walls but also on the ceiling, hanging like natural curtains.
Aetheria: (Marveling, even though slightly afraid) "The moss... is beautiful. Even in the dark, it looks alive."
Kyoichiiro: (Observing his surroundings) "Don't be fooled. Beautiful places aren't necessarily safe."
They kept walking. The water beside them flowed with a soothing sound—krishik, krishik, krishik—like nature's music that never stopped. Unlike the previous drainage channel that was foul and dirty, this place felt... almost peaceful.
But Kyoichiiro did not lower his guard.
After walking for about half an hour—or more, as it was hard to measure time underground—they began to see another change. The brick walls were no longer even; there were protrusions here and there, like traces of rough carving. The floor also began to slope upward—not noticeably, but gradually, little by little, as if they were climbing a gentle hill.
Amura: (Relieved) "We're going up. Maybe toward the surface."
Kyoichiiro: "Don't get your hopes up too quickly. But... yes, this is a good sign."
They walked faster, even though Kyoichiiro could barely feel his legs at all. The purple on his body had now reached his chest, and he could feel the poison beginning to affect his heartbeat—sometimes too fast, sometimes too slow, sometimes pausing for a moment before beating again.
He said nothing to Amura or Aetheria. There was no need. They were already worried enough.
And finally, after walking through that long, winding brick passage, after passing more moss and flowing water, after several insignificant small turns—
They saw stairs.
Not the wooden stairs they had descended from the empty house. But stone stairs. Old, worn stone, with wide, low steps, like stairs in an ancient palace or the ruins of a large building.
Those stairs stretched upward. Far upward. So far the end was invisible, because the light from Amura's fireball couldn't reach the top.
Aetheria: (Whispering, her voice full of hope) "Stairs... this might be the way out."
Amura: (Exhaling in relief, but not completely relaxed) "The only way to know is to climb."
Kyoichiiro: (Standing at the foot of the stairs, staring upward—into the endless darkness) "So long."
He wasn't complaining. He was just stating a fact.
Kyoichiiro: "Let's go. Slowly. Don't rush. We don't know what's waiting above."
They began to climb. Amura in front, with the unknown girl on his back. Aetheria in the middle, one hand still holding Kyoichiiro's arm. Kyoichiiro at the rear, each step feeling like lifting a ton.
Step by step. Stone by stone. Their feet felt heavy, their breaths began to come in gasps, sweat began to dampen their foreheads even though the air here was cold.
Midway up, Aetheria nearly fell—her foot caught on a step slightly higher than the others. Kyoichiiro caught her before she fell, pulling her to the side, holding her for a moment until she steadied.
Aetheria: (Whispering, her voice trembling) "Sorry... I'm... I'm exhausted."
Kyoichiiro: (His voice flat, but with an unusual gentleness) "It's alright. Rest a moment. But not too long."
They paused for a while on the stairs. Amura set the girl down on a wider step and sat beside her. Aetheria sat on a lower step, her knees drawn to her chest, her face pale. Kyoichiiro stood—didn't sit—because he was afraid that if he sat down, he wouldn't be able to get up again.
From the top of the stairs, from a place they couldn't see, wind blew. Thin. Cold. But different from the wind underground.
Wind from outside.
Amura: (Looking upward, his eyes narrowing) "I feel wind. Fresh air. We're... we're almost there."
Aetheria: (Looking up, her eyes shining) "Really?"
Kyoichiiro: (Silent, staring upward—into a darkness that no longer felt quite so dark) "Yes. We're almost there."
He helped Aetheria stand. Amura carried the girl again. And they continued the climb.
Step by step.
Drawing closer to a light not yet visible, but already palpable.