Haruto didn't mention the line again.
Belial didn't either.
They left it where it was.
A shallow mark in endless sand.
Nothing important.
Nothing meaningful.
And somehow—
that made it feel more important than Arthur's wall.
Haruto walked.
The ruin slowly became smaller behind them.
The desert remained the same.
Dry.
Wide.
Unhelpfully endless.
His footprints faded again.
One.
Two.
Gone.
He watched for a while.
Then stopped caring.
Not because it didn't bother him.
Just because there wasn't anything to do about it.
Belial walked beside him.
Quiet.
Unusually quiet.
After a while, Haruto spoke.
"…you knew."
Belial didn't look at him.
"…about what?"
Haruto kept walking.
"…the cloak."
Silence.
Belial clicked its tongue.
"…a little."
Haruto nodded.
That answer felt believable.
Not complete.
Just believable.
"…and you didn't tell me."
Belial looked ahead.
"…would you have listened?"
Haruto thought.
Then—
"…probably not."
Belial nodded once.
That ended the conversation.
The wind passed.
Not around him anymore.
Through him.
Cold.
Dry.
Normal.
Haruto adjusted his clothes instinctively.
Then paused.
The movement felt strangely familiar.
His hand had reached for the cloak.
Except—
it wasn't there.
His hand lowered.
Nothing happened.
Belial noticed.
Didn't comment.
They kept walking.
After a while—
Haruto looked back.
The ruin was far now.
Too far.
But still visible.
He stopped.
Belial stopped too.
Haruto stared for a moment.
Then quietly—
"…it's still there."
Belial looked.
"…yeah."
Haruto frowned.
"…shouldn't it disappear?"
Belial tilted its head.
"…why?"
Haruto looked at the horizon.
"…everything else does."
Belial looked back at the ruin.
Then shrugged.
"…maybe nobody told it."
Haruto stared at it.
Belial stared back.
A few seconds passed.
Then Haruto looked away.
"…that's a stupid answer."
Belial nodded.
"…yeah."
They continued.
The heat slowly returned.
Not aggressively.
Just enough to remind him he was still physical.
His throat felt dry.
His legs felt heavier.
His shoulders started feeling empty.
That one annoyed him.
He ignored it.
Eventually—
the ground changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Less sand.
More stone.
Dark.
Flat.
Haruto slowed.
The stone stretched ahead in uneven plates.
Like the desert had broken apart and forgotten to reconnect.
Belial stopped walking.
Haruto noticed.
"…what?"
Belial stared forward.
"…we should go around."
Haruto looked ahead.
Nothing.
Just rock.
"…why?"
Belial was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then—
"…I don't like places that stay."
Haruto looked at it.
That sentence felt familiar.
Too familiar.
He looked ahead again.
The stone remained still.
Heat shimmered slightly above it.
Nothing moved.
Nothing strange.
Haruto stepped forward.
Belial immediately said—
"…bad idea."
Haruto stopped.
Looked at it.
Belial didn't move.
Its eyes stayed forward.
Haruto stared.
"…you don't know."
Belial answered immediately.
"…exactly."
That made Haruto pause.
Not knowing had never stopped them before.
Haruto looked ahead again.
Then—
he noticed it.
A crack.
Thin.
Running through the stone.
Inside it—
something pale.
Not glowing.
Not moving.
Just… pale.
Haruto frowned.
Walked closer.
Belial didn't follow.
Haruto crouched.
Looked.
Inside the crack—
something was written.
No.
Scratched.
Small.
Messy.
Old.
He narrowed his eyes.
Only one sentence.
—
Still here.
—
Haruto froze.
No name.
No explanation.
Just that.
His expression shifted slightly.
Not fear.
Recognition.
He looked back.
Belial hadn't moved.
Haruto looked at the words again.
Then quietly asked—
"…how many people are there?"
Belial didn't answer immediately.
The wind passed.
Then:
"…I don't know."
A pause.
"…but enough."
Haruto stared at the crack.
Still here.
Not:
Help.
Not:
Remember me.
Not:
Save me.
Just—
Still here.
He stood.
Looked ahead.
The stone field stretched farther than he thought.
Flat.
Silent.
Too quiet.
Haruto looked at Belial.
"…we're going around?"
Belial immediately nodded.
Haruto looked ahead one more time.
Then turned.
And walked away.
Not because he was scared.
But because—
for the first time—
he felt like someone else had already asked the question he wanted to ask.
And they still hadn't left.
Behind them—
the crack stayed unchanged.
The words remained.
Quiet.
Patient.
Like they weren't meant to be found.
Only noticed.