The city streets were a graveyard.

  Each turn brought them through another stretch of ruin—crumbling homes, burnt carts, blood-streaked walls, and silence where there should’ve been life. The group moved fast, led by the general, with the princess close behind, flanked by Takahiro and Kana.

  But the farther they walked, the heavier everything felt.

  Screams still echoed in the distance, but up close… there was only aftermath.

  A body slumped across a broken doorstep. A horse half-buried in rubble. A crumbled bakery where the smell of ash fought with the memory of fresh bread. In one alley, a man knelt, motionless, head bowed before a shrine made of shattered roof tiles and old rope.

  And then—

  A woman.

  She sat against a wall, her arms wrapped tightly around the lifeless body of a small child, sobbing without sound. Not the wailing kind of grief—just soft, steady, unstoppable tears. She didn’t look at them as they passed.

  Kana stopped.

  Her feet halted on instinct, and her eyes locked on the woman.

  Takahiro’s grip on her hand tightened immediately.

  She glanced at him—his jaw clenched, his eyes hollow. He wasn’t saying no to her because he wanted to. He was saying no because he had to.

  But still—Kana’s hand twitched. She wasn’t just a fighter. She had always been someone who acted. Standing still while others suffered was not her nature.

  The princess, walking just ahead, spoke without turning around.

  “...This isn’t the time.”

  Her voice was steady. Too steady.

  It was meant for Kana. But it was also, very clearly, for herself.

  Kana looked away from the woman.

  Takahiro didn’t say anything. He just kept holding her hand. Neither of them let go.

  They walked on.

  The further they went, the fewer demons they saw. It wasn’t safety—they knew better than to think that. The destruction remained the same. Ash piled on rooftops. Blackened skeletons of buildings. The stench of smoke and blood hung over everything like a curse.

  Eventually, a young soldier emerged from behind a collapsed wagon, panting, armor dented and stained. His sword was chipped. One arm hung limp.

  The general stepped forward immediately.

  “Report. Have you seen any horses?”

  The soldier shook his head. “No, sir. Any that survived the first wave were taken by the evacuees. Most were already gone by the time we abandoned the inner stables.”

  The general exhaled sharply, turning away. “Of course they were.”

  He ran a gloved hand through his short, graying hair and muttered under his breath, “At this rate it’ll take weeks on foot to reach Velmira...”

  Takahiro glanced at him. Velmira? That must be the city where the queen—the princess’s mother—was waiting. But "weeks"? Could they even survive hours like this?

  Kana’s eyes were still trailing the edge of every alley, every shattered doorway. She hadn’t said a word since the child.

  The general raised a hand to signal the group forward—

  And the sky split.

  A shadow tore through the clouds, like the sun had been suddenly eclipsed. A massive winged creature descended from above, landing hard in the center of the avenue with a thunderous crash that sent cracks racing through the cobblestones.

  Dust flew. Debris scattered.

  Takahiro froze.

  The thing towered over them—at least three meters tall, with skin like blackened metal and four curling horns that framed a face twisted into a permanent, sneering grin. Its wings folded with a heavy snap. Its eyes glowed a deep crimson, and in its claws it held a jagged spear crackling with red energy.

  It opened its mouth.

  And spoke.

  “Give me the hero, girl.”

  The voice was deep—inhuman—but there was a strange calmness to it. It didn’t growl or roar. It simply spoke, like a nobleman making a demand.

  “Give him to me, and I will weep for the fallen. Refuse, and I will make the dead envy those who remain.”

  No one moved.

  No one breathed.

  Kana stepped half-forward—but Takahiro’s hand was still around hers.

  The general’s sword was already drawn.

  He stepped between the creature and the princess, placing himself in the demon’s path without hesitation.

  “You want him?” he said coldly. “You’ll have to tear through me first.”

  The demon’s eyes narrowed.

  The general looked over his shoulder, shouting: “Your Highness! Go! We’ll hold it off!”

  The princess hesitated only for a moment.

  “Don’t die,” she ordered, voice sharp, before grabbing Takahiro and Kana by the wrists. “Come with me—now!”

  And without another word, she turned down a side street, pulling them both with her, as the general and the remaining soldier charged toward the demon with a roar.

  The rest of the journey to the outer wall passed without confrontation.

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  No more demons. No more fire. Just people.

  They walked the same streets now—soldiers, mages, commoners, all heading toward the exits of a city that no longer wanted them. Most had nothing but the clothes on their backs and the desperation in their eyes. Some clutched sacks or broken wagons. Others just held hands and kept moving.

  Takahiro, Kana, and the princess advanced in silence among them, keeping pace, their shoulders brushing against men who looked ten years older than they had the day before.

  A woman passed them with a toddler wrapped in her shawl. A man limped behind her, dragging an empty leash. No one asked questions. No one cried anymore.

  As they neared the gates, a group of townspeople recognized the princess.

  Some gasped. Others bowed as best they could while walking.

  “Your Highness!”

  “Let us serve!”

  “Please, let me fight!”

  But the princess shook her head gently each time. Her voice remained kind, but firm.

  “Thank you, but your duty is to live. Please… save yourselves.”

  They bowed again. She didn’t stop walking.

  Beyond the gate, the world opened.

  What lay outside the walls wasn’t peace—but at least it was quiet. Fields burned in the distance, the scent of ash lingering on the wind, but there were no enemies here. Not yet.

  Takahiro’s lungs finally felt like they had room to breathe.

  Instead of taking the road, the princess pulled them toward the tree line, veering off the path and into the forest’s edge, where shadows were deeper, and the wind rustled through the leaves like whispers.

  They moved slowly now.

  The chaos behind them felt impossibly far away, though it wasn’t.

  After several minutes, the princess slowed her steps.

  Then she stopped.

  “I owe you both… an apology,” she said softly, without turning.

  Kana raised an eyebrow, still breathing hard. “For what exactly?”

  The princess folded her hands in front of her.

  “For the way you were summoned.”

  She didn’t speak like royalty now—no posture, no weight in her voice. She just sounded tired.

  “In an ideal situation,” she continued, “I would have welcomed you properly. I would have explained everything. Where you are. Why you’re here. What’s expected of you. You would have had time to understand.”

  She paused.

  “But this… was not ideal.”

  Kana exchanged a glance with Takahiro, who was still walking silently behind them.

  “…Fine,” Kana muttered. “Then explain now.”

  The princess nodded, brushing hair from her face as the wind caught it.

  “The hero,” she said, “is someone chosen by fate. Marked by power. He—or she—is the only one capable of stopping the demon army from consuming ours. The hero possesses strength far beyond that of any mortal.”

  Kana crossed her arms. “And we were supposed to be that hero?”

  “No,” the princess replied. “Only one of you.”

  She turned to face them completely now, finally stepping into her title.

  “I’m Serenya Valen. First daughter of Queen Elisabeth. Heir to the throne of Alvereth. And I am honored to stand before you…”

  She looked between them.

  “...Hero of the Light.”

  Kana blinked. “Hold on. Who said it’s either of us?”

  “The hero is marked,” Serenya said. “A seal appears on the left side of the chest, just above the heart. Glowing with faint silver light.”

  She paused—just a beat too long.

  “And I was hoping… one of you would check.”

  There was a silence.

  Kana squinted. “You’re not… sure?”

  Serenya looked away.

  Takahiro didn’t say a word.

  Kana sighed, then rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever.” She reached up and began unbuttoning the top of her shirt, just enough to pull the fabric aside and glance down. Her fingers brushed over bare skin.

  “Nothing,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Unless it’s invisible.”

  Serenya nodded once, slowly. Then both she and Kana turned to look behind them.

  Takahiro was a few meters away, bent forward, one hand on a tree trunk, the other on his knee. His body shook slightly.

  Kana took a step. “Takahiro—?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Then he gagged, and the sound was enough.

  He vomited onto the ground, the bile coming in heavy, shaking gasps. His back hunched as his whole body convulsed. The image of the woman and the child… the demons… the blood… the city in flames… it all came back at once, slamming into him like a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying.

  Kana winced. Serenya took a half step forward but didn’t speak.

  Takahiro wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his school uniform, then turned slowly to face them.

  His eyes were red.

  He looked at them, saw their stares, and—without a word—unbuttoned his shirt.

  He pulled the collar aside, exposing the left side of his chest.

  His skin was pale from stress and cold.

  But it was unmarked.

  No seal. No light. Nothing.

  Just an ordinary boy.

  Serenya stared.

  A long, cold silence followed.

  “…Fuck,” she whispered.