"Even for you guys and Eila, it will need to wait another week," Imara continued with absolute medical authority. "I need to ensure his circuits are resting, and that he actually gains some physical weight back before he marches anywhere."
___________
It was night. The rest of the safehouse had already gone to sleep. Eila sat alone on the front porch, the freezing wind biting at his neck as he stared up at the black sky, laden with stars.
The front door creaked, breaking the quiet. Imara stepped out into the chill holding two steaming mugs of tea. She sat beside him, offering one over. Eila accepted it, letting the heat seep into his cold palms before taking a bitter sip.
"You know." He forced a smile, keeping his eyes locked on the stars. "I used to talk endlessly about the stars with her... with Emilia."
He closed his eyes. High above, the North Star twinkled, utterly indifferent to the grief of mortals.
"After our parents... got killed in the Siege." Eila brought a hand to his forehead, scratching mindlessly at a phantom itch. "Emilia couldn't sleep for quite some time."
He smiled at the memory. The past was bitter, yet it grounded him.
"I used to take her out under the night sky, telling her about the stars and constellations just to calm her down."
The memory was still painfully vivid. Emilia's small face lighting up when she learned about Aquarius.
'Will I really get Aquarius as my constellation, Eila?' she had asked, her eyes wide with excitement, the horrors of the war momentarily forgotten.
'Yeah, it comes to everyone who searches for it, you know.' Eila had replied, not knowing the basics of astronomy himself.
He tore his gaze away from the stars, glaring out at the distant, dark trees. The shadows morphed and twisted in the gloom, the bare branches scraping dryly against each other, appearing to taunt him.
"When the pay from becoming the Hero started coming in." He stared at the treeline, his voice tightening. "I spent most of it on books about the cosmos and constellations. Just so I wouldn't run out of material for her."
A dry chuckle escaped his throat. A single tear betrayed him, cutting a warm track through the freezing grime on his cheek and dropping into the dirt.
"It's unfair, isn't it?" His voice finally cracked as he looked at Imara. "Just a week before...before that... she packed me lunch to take to the battlefield." He rubbed the heel of his hand furiously against his eyes, hating the physical burning in his chest. "And the next time I saw her... it was her head rolling."
He buried his face against his knees, his shoulders violently trembling. He was breaking in front of her, and he hated every single second of it.
Imara shifted closer, the wooden floorboards creaking softly under her weight. She placed a warm hand on his trembling shoulder, her gaze following his up to the dark sky.
"It was unfair, and hopelessly cruel," she said, her voice dropping to a quiet whisper. "You have every right to be angry. To not forgive. To rage."
She slid her hand down his arm, finding his freezing fingers. She took them softly, pulling his hand into her lap and wrapping both of hers around it to trap the heat.
"But, for the love of God, Eila." Her grip tightened, desperate and grounding. "Please, don't throw yourself into danger again. I cannot lose my other childhood friend, too."
Her breath hitched. She bowed her head, pressing his numb knuckles against her forehead as the tears finally spilled over her lashes.
_____________
Eila swung his legs over the edge of the cot and stood up.
He braced himself against the timber wall, waiting for the familiar blackout that blinded him in the morning. It didn't come. His physical strength had returned.
He rolled his right shoulder. The joints popped sharply in the quiet room. The blistering purple necrosis of Paradox Debt had finally faded into a dull-grey scar.
His muscles were fine. But the absolute dead silence inside his circuits was maddening.
He reached for the small leather pouch on the bedside table. Pulling out a raw mana-stone, he placed the rough crystal between his teeth and bit down.
The brittle stone cracked. A rush of foreign energy flooded his dead circuits. His head instantly swam with a dizzying high. It tasted like ash and static, a pathetic and toxic substitute for his own power, but at least for some time, he wouldn't feel so incredibly empty.
He swallowed the bitter grit and pushed the bedroom door open.
The safehouse was a chaotic blur of preparation. Kaito was aggressively shoving travel rations into a heavy canvas pack. Lucio was rapidly tracing a route on his worn map of the Westrealis borders, while Riko balanced precariously on a wooden chair to steal the last piece of dried meat from the top shelf.
Imara was near the hearth, carefully dividing her medical supplies into Kian's travel bag. Since her mana-circuits were overworked and Master Orlon was still bedridden, they were remaining at the hut.
"Morning," Eila rasped, pulling out the wooden chair beside her.
Imara looked up. Her eyes instantly scanned his pale face, narrowing as she caught the faint smell of crushed mana-stone on his breath. Her expression hardened.
"Spit the rest out," she said sharply. "I told you, relying on raw stones just to feel the magic again is highly toxic. The intoxication will completely fry what's left of your brain before you even reach the Westrealis border."
Eila looked down at his empty sword sheath on the table. The sword was lost during the Aethelgard Castle Heist.
"If we get ambushed on the road, I can't even spark a basic shield," he said quietly, the intoxicating high already fading into a dull ache. "I need at least some mana, Imara."
Lucio stepped forward, frantically flipping through his leather-bound notebook. His fingers trembled slightly against the parchment.
"E-Eila—Mr. Hero," Lucio stammered, nervously adjusting his cracked glasses. "I have mapped the route to the swordsmith Riko mentioned. He used to craft for the Vanguard, but stopped after the Third Great Demonic Siege. He is a master of runes. Maybe he can help..."
He trailed off, his eyes darting anxiously across the ink lines on the page.
"Almost all the paths to Westrealis are infested with bandits," he said, his voice thinning. "B-but if we do run into them..." He glanced sideways at Kaito, who was aggressively tightening the thick leather straps on his twin blades.
Riko strolled up to the table. Her heavy maroon cloak was folded over her arm, and she was loudly tearing into a thick piece of dried meat that undeniably belonged to Kaito.
"The thing is." She chewed obnoxiously, swallowing before continuing. "Even if your circuits are dead, the runes will do the heavy lifting. They draw on the mana trapped in them throughout thousands of years."
Kian stepped out of the shadows, securing a plain traveler's cloak around his broad shoulders. He looked down at the pink-haired girl. "You are a direct disciple of Grand Mage Orlon. Can't you forge runes?"
"I can't!" Riko smirked, puffing her chest out with shameless pride. "There are some studies that evade even my genius! MHM!"
Kaito scoffed, his face twisting in disgust. He stood up, grabbing the thick leather straps of his heavy canvas pack and hauling it over his shoulder.
"We need to move," he grunted, staring out the frost-covered window. "If we hit the treeline after dark, the Vanguard patrols aren't the only things we have to worry about."
Eila reached for his dark traveler's cloak, the heavy wool settling over his shoulders. He pulled the hood low, casting his scarred face in deep shadow.
"We'll be off now, Imara," Eila began, turning toward the hearth.
A blur of maroon fabric shoved aggressively past him. Riko threw her arms around Imara, burying her face into the older girl's shoulder with a tight squeeze.
"I'm going to miss you so much, Ima!" Riko announced loudly. "I swear I'll bring you the best souvenirs! And don't worry, I'll take excellent care of your sidekick, too." She jerked a thumb backward at Eila.
Eila let out a long, exhausted sigh. He stepped closer, gripping the thick fabric of Riko's collar to pull her off.
She instantly swatted his hand away. "Unhand me, peasant. I am bidding my farewells."
Imara let out a quiet, genuine laugh. She gave the chaotic girl one last squeeze before stepping around her.
The laughter faded as she stopped in front of Eila. She reached up, her warm hands gently cupping his pale cheeks.
"Promise me you will not actively seek out danger," she whispered, her blue eyes pleading in the dim light.
Eila leaned slightly into her touch, the living warmth contrasting the freezing draft from the window.
"I promise."
For nearly the entire day they kept strictly to the dense brush, avoiding the packed dirt of the main merchant roads. The frozen mud sucked heavily at their boots, and the dead, low-hanging branches scraped relentlessly against their heavy traveler's cloaks.
By the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon, the ambient light in the forest had faded into a cold, suffocating grey.
"The merchant carriages should be clearing out by now," Lucio murmured. He stopped against a tree, his freezing fingers tracing a line across his worn map. "If we cut up to the main road, we can make up for lost time. There is a lake a few miles ahead where we can safely camp for the night."
"Agreed," Kian said, pulling his hood lower over his eyes. "Take the lead, Lucio."
The party trudged up the steep embankment, finally stepping out of the brush and onto the flat, hard-packed dirt of the King's road.
Riko immediately began aggressively stomping her boots against the stone to shake off the crusting muck.
"Finally," she complained loudly, not caring one bit about the stealth. "If I had to walk through that sludge for one more hour, I was going to set the entire forest on fire."
Eila didn't reply. He just kept his head down and adjusted the canvas strap of his pack, his chest heaving slightly.
Something was wrong. The freezing air felt too dense. Without the hum of his mana circuits acting as a radar, he couldn't passively scan the dark treeline, but his instincts were screaming.
"By decree of the Vanguard." A heavy voice echoed from the shadows. "Halt."
A massive silhouette stepped out of the brush onto the dirt road. He wore a heavy black leather duster, and resting on his broad shoulder was a terrifyingly large executioner's axe.
"My name is Zamir," He said, gripping the axe tightly. "I am a Bounty Hunter appointed by The Vanguard."
Kaito's hands instantly dropped to the hilts of his twin blades. Lucio trembled, stepping backward. Eila just watched the giant, his hood slipping back to reveal his pale face.
His right boot is sinking deeper into the mud, Eila calculated, his dead eyes tracking the man's heavy stance. He's compensating for the weight of the iron. He doesn't have the natural muscle to swing that fast.
"Do not misunderstand this, Fallen Hero. War has been harsh on everyone," the man said, his voice lacking the usual arrogance of a mercenary. He licked his cracked lips, staring at the Cinders. "The Crown bled the outer districts dry. People are starving. But luckily... I found the rat pack."
His grip on the haft is too tight. He's nervous.
"Turn around," Eila stated, his voice completely deadpan. "There is no money here."
The giant let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Two hundred Galvors, they placed on your head. That will feed my people for a lifetime. I know this is cruel, boy. I do." He gripped the axe with both hands, lowering his stance. "But look at you. Stripped of your magic. Barely standing. Killed the High Pope too, that's Divine Punishment if anything. That's just the way the world works now."
He's over-leveraged, Eila thought, shifting his own weight onto the balls of his feet. He's not going to be fast at all.
"Bring it, then," Eila said.
The ash plumed. Zamir took a step forward, and disappeared. He reappeared in front of them, a hand stretched out, aiming squarely for Riko.
Kaito scrambled to draw his blades, a fraction of a second too slow. Riko threw her hands into the air, her lips frantically forming the first syllable of a LOGIC to rain slashes down upon him—but the cast time was too long. The giant was already there.
THWACK.
Zamir's momentum derailed instantly. Eila stepped directly inside the giant's guard, planting his boot into the freezing mud for leverage, and drove his heel squarely into the man's floating ribs.
The giant was lifted entirely off his feet, crashing heavily into the dirt.
"You burst mana to make speed, a neat technique, I must admit," Eila said coldly, watching the man scramble in the frost.
Zamir roared, spitting blood. Desperation took over. He surged up, swinging the giant axe in a wild, horizontal arc aimed right at Eila's neck. The heavy steel displaced the air with a loud, tearing whistle.
Eila dropped to one knee, letting the blade pass inches over his hair. He shot upward, grabbing the thick wooden haft of the axe with his left hand to lock it in place, and drove his right fist directly into Zamir's sternum.
Bone splintered with a wet crunch. Zamir violently coughed, dark blood spraying from his lips as his ribs caved inward.
The man let go of the axe, raising a bloody arm to blindly grab Eila's throat. Eila didn't flinch. He parried the arm away, grabbed Zamir's thick wrist, twisted the joint, and drove his elbow down.
The elbow snapped backward. Zamir howled in agony, collapsing to his knees. Eila didn't hesitate. He rained three merciless punches directly into the man's jaw. Zamir's eyes rolled back, and he slumped into the mud, completely unconscious.
The road fell dead silent.
"Y-You're producing mana again?" Kian breathed, staring at the unconscious giant in absolute awe. "Your circuits..."
Eila wiped the blood off his split knuckles against his cloak. He looked back at Kian, his chest rising and falling heavily in the cold.
"I'm not," Eila said, his tone entirely flat. "The circuits are still dead."
"T-then... how?" Lucio stammered.
"Didn't need it." Eila spat a glob of blood onto the frozen dirt beside Zamir. "He fought like a desperate man relying entirely on mana. He never bothered to learn the fighting. You learn how to judge prowess when you have served in the trenches."
He turned around, pulling his heavy hood back over his head. "War is brutal, but that doesn't mean you forget humanity."
He took a deep breath.
"Let's move. The lake is still a few miles out."