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“You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you. Brighia.”

“You’re still the same, Sarante.”

The voice came from the side. Sarante slowly turned his body. Brighia was leaning against a pillar, twirling her hair. It was hard to believe she had been ill just moments ago.

“This temple hasn’t changed much either. As unchanging as ever.”

“It doesn’t seem like you came to pay your respects to Seniel.”

“Well, that’s true.”

“I didn’t expect you to betray me too. Sending an old friend as an assassin, the sect is so ruthless.”

Sarante folded the rag and put it in his pocket. Brighia chuckled.

“Ha, even you, who poured paralysis poison as soon as we met, is not easy either. Neutralizer?

You should talk more sensibly.”

“Do you think it makes sense that Lemeheim’s shadow was captured by the orcs? I was helping you with your clumsy acting.”

“That’s right. Still, wasn’t it plausible to untie the rope?”

“Yes. If it wasn’t for that treasure, I might have worried about you a little bit. You played it well with the act.”

The rope that had bound Brighia’s hands and feet was a treasure known as “Glang.” It was incredibly tough and had the ability to be untied or bound only according to the user’s will.

Sarante furrowed his brows as he recalled the image of her untying the rope while pretending to be unconscious. Mana-infused poison, untying spells… Sarante had to spout all sorts of nonsense to deceive Ronan.

“Still, the words you said while untying Glang were quite impressive. ‘Don’t touch her.’ I couldn’t move because I was so scared.”

“Don’t exaggerate. You could have just come to visit me instead of going through all this trouble. Putting yourself in shackles and getting caught by an orc group, Your method is quite worrisome.”

“Well… it’s fun that way, right? And I don’t want to see unnecessary bloodshed in the temple. I’ve believed in that hunk of rock for a long time too.”

“It’s fortunate that some semblance of faith remains in you, even if it’s like stagnant water.”

Brighia looked at Seniel’s statue with a gaze that seemed to see a long-lost lover. After stepping away from the pillar, she stood facing Sarante.

“Again… I knew you would be curious enough to put on such a dramatic performance. Since the Baydian Mountains are your domain, I’m sure you sensed my presence anyway. But even after I was being captured all night, you still didn’t come to save me.”

“There was no rush and I was busy attending the esteemed guests.”

“Esteemed guests? Are you referring to those human children from earlier?”

“It doesn’t matter much.”

“…You should have just killed them. There was no need for this act.”

“It was an action born from goodwill or perhaps it was a simple whim.”

“Ever since you forgot your age, everything you do has been nothing but whims.”

The amusement disappeared from Brighia’s face. Sarante clasped his hands politely and continued speaking.

“Brighia, where has your faith in Seniel gone? Didn’t we move the rock where the soul dwells all the way to Konya together?”

“It’s something that dawned on me late. After all, the world will be engulfed in starlight anyway.”

“Do not succumb to the false eloquence of a fake god. It’s a delusion and an escape. The path to salvation can only be found in each person’s own life.”

“It’s about time you grow up, Sarante.”

Clap!

Brighia suddenly clapped her hands. Soon, a monstrous roar reverberated outside the temple, shaking the mountains.

“Groooaaar!”

“Grrrrah!”

Sporadic roars echoed, causing Sarante to narrow his brow. Closing his eyes, he saw the ogres surrounding the temple. There seemed to be more than thirty of them.

“…What a strange sorcery. To think you would summon so many monsters of the forest here.”

“This too is the grace of the stars.”

Kwaaang!

In an instant, a giant hand smashed through the temple’s outer wall. The grip of the hand closed around Sarante, while a section of the wall crumbled. A reddish ogre, its entire body blood-red, revealed itself.

“Grrroooaaaar!”

The ogre roared as it held Sarante in front of it. Brighia, wearing a mocking smile, spoke.

“As you said, we’ve been friends for thousands of years, so I’ll tell you the command I received. ‘Persuade Sarante Lemation, or kill him if that is impossible’.”

“That’s not exactly good news.”

“What are you going to do? If you’re as talented as you were earlier, the head of the branch is easy. In the near future, you could secure the position of a close aide to the leader.”

Sarante didn’t respond. He gazed at the ogre’s upper body with a mournful expression. After a moment, he opened his mouth.

“…Originally, I would have accepted death.”

“Hmm?”

“Honestly, I was growing weary. The great spirit remains elusive, and despite thousands of years of hiding from the sect, there was no sign of it ending.”

The voice was calm. Despite the ogre’s teeth baring in front of him, Sarante’s expression was as peaceful as that of a sleeping person. Brighia frowned and asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“Exactly as I said. This time, I wanted to let go of everything and start a new cycle. But over the past few days, I’ve seen hope.”

“Hope?”

“Yes. Seniel has not abandoned us yet.”

At that moment, a whistle-like sound spread.

Thud!

The ogre’s arm that had been gripping Sarante fell to the ground. A guttural scream erupted from the ogre’s mouth, like its insides were twisting.

“Grrraaaaghhh!”

Sarante, who had landed gracefully, swung his finger towards the ogre. As the whistling sound echoed again, the ogre’s body split in half. Brighia looked at Sarante and asked.

“Can I take that as you choosing the latter option?”

“I don’t really agree, but sure.”

“You gonna regret it later, Sarante.”

Brighia extended her arm. Shadows gathered, and a short dagger appeared in her hand. Her voice flowed like she was reciting a eulogy.

“Once, we walked the same path… My friend.”

The shadows that hung around the temple began to tremble. Brighia’s aura was much more intense than when Sarante had last seen her. Sarante spoke as if sighing.

“Drake Skin. Storm Song. Double Tornado.”

A magic circle spread out from beneath Sarante’s feet, enveloping the temple. Simultaneously, Brighia’s figure disappeared from sight. Mana gathered in a whirlwind, converging into a brilliant blaze.

****

“Hmm? Did you guys hear something just now?”

“Sound?”

Braum looked around. For a moment, it seemed like he heard someone’s scream. But as he looked around, all he saw were shadows blending into the growing darkness and densely packed trees. Aselle shook his head.

“I-I didn’t hear anything.”

“Is that so? Hahaha, maybe I misheard.”

“Isn’t that just a sound from the sky? Ugh… Look at those clouds. I don’t even have spare clothes.”

Marya complained, looking up at the sky. The heavy clouds covering the mountain range seemed to be growing denser with each passing moment. The moist masses of cumulus clouds looked like they could burst forth rain and lightning any second.

The group that had left Sarante’s temple was in the midst of descending the mountains. Due to the increased load from their journey, their descent was naturally slower. Carrying a backpack three times larger than the others, Marya spoke up.

“Ugh… It’s not that heavy, but my back keeps getting tired. Ronan, can’t you call the Ghost horse on the mountain?”

“Pff~”

Ronan didn’t respond. Even when Cita poked his cheek, he was the same. Aselle tilted his head in curiosity.

“Ronan?”

“Don’t talk to me for a moment.”

“Uh, okay.”

He had been thinking about the events of the day as they descended the mountains. Ronan’s mind was filled with the woman he had taken to the temple, ‘Brighia’.

“Something’s definitely off.”

He couldn’t make rational observations because she looked unwell. But as he mulled over his memories, everything felt strange. Starting with Brighia being held captive by the orc tribe was suspicious.

Orcs were not monsters that stored their prey to eat later. In a normal situation, she would have already been consumed for a meal.

Furthermore, it was odd that he couldn’t sense any mana at all. Even if she had lost consciousness, in most cases, a faint trace of mana would still be detectable on the surface.

But the mana of the woman named Brighia didn’t appear even after he had taken a sip of Sarante’s magical tea, which should have heightened his senses. It was as if she deliberately concealed it.

-Kwaaaah!

At that moment, a thunderous noise erupted, and the sky above their heads brightened. Aselle screamed and covered his ears.

“Aaaah!”

“Aselle! What’s wrong?!”

Marya and Braum rushed to Aselle’s side. Ronan urgently turned his head in the direction of the sound. Two massive dragon ridges were soaring above the ridge line. Ronan’s forehead furrowed deeply.

“What the…?”

Around the dragon ridges, he could see torrents of mana surging. It was the direction of Sarante’s temple. Within the roiling mana, he could discern the familiar glimmer unique to Nebula Clazier, the same glimmer he had seen in Dallan.

“What’s wrong, cutie? Were you startled by the thunder?”

“It’s not… thunder… My head…”

Aselle groaned while clutching his head. In an instant, a shockwave seemed to wash over his brain, like a bucket of cold water being poured over it. Among the four, only Aselle, with his exceptional mana sensitivity, felt this sensation.

“Hey, Braum.”

At that moment, Ronan approached. He took out a slender white stick from his bag and handed it to Braum.

“What’s this…?”

“It’s a horn that summons the Ghost horse’s. Everyone, head back to Philleon for now. Don’t follow me under any circumstances.”

Braum couldn’t argue. The expression on Ronan’s face, warning them not to follow, was contorted like a demon.

“Understood.”

Leaving those words, Ronan dashed off in the direction where the sound had come from. Marya and Braum’s voices echoed from behind.

“Hey!”

“Where are you going?!”

Ronan’s figure disappeared behind the rocks in an instant. At that moment, a cold droplet of water fell onto Marya’s forehead. Frowning, she looked up.

“Of all times, now…!”

Another heavy droplet fell, striking her cheek.

Plop! Plop!

It didn’t take long for the occasional droplets to turn into a torrential downpour.

****

Shwaaaa-

Darkness settled over the mountain range. Rain poured down as if it could drown the world. The rainwater rushing down the slope bore a muddy hue.

“Ugh… Darn it…”

Ronan cursed under his breath and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. The momentary clarity of his vision quickly gave way to a rapidly darkening world.

A metallic taste of blood was sensed deep in his throat. Although he felt like he had been running for an hour, the temple was still not in sight. As he lifted his gaze, he caught sight of mana pulsating like explosions.

“What the… What’s going on…?”

The battle seemed to be ongoing. The two dragon ridges had multiplied into four, writhing and twisting in the air. Dark shadows were occasionally protruding like thorns amid the darkness.

“Huff… huff… Fine.”

After catching his breath for a few seconds, Ronan started running again. His gaze remained fixed on the sky.

Plop!

Suddenly, something hard struck his side.

“Damn it!”

It wasn’t the sensation of wood or rock. A massive shadow loomed before him. An unpleasant smell struck his nostrils, making Ronan furrow his brow.

“What the hell is this smell?”

Ronan looked up. From high above, four flames were flickering. In an instant, a powerful sensation engulfed him.

“You…”

At that moment, lightning struck a nearby tree. As the world momentarily brightened as if it were daytime, an ogre with two heads revealed itself atop a nearby tree. The right head of the ogre met Ronan’s gaze and grinned.

“Gwok!”

“Growl!”

“Long time no see.”

Ronan chuckled dryly. He felt an electric current coursing through his limbs.

The ogre had a much larger build and thicker arms than the others. It was the orge Ronan couldn’t win against despite fighting for three days and three nights in his past life.

As Ronan scrutinized the Twin-Headed Ogre, he frowned.

“But you’re sick.”

In the short time he had, he noticed it clearly. The ogre’s chest bore a pattern similar to the ones inflicted by the stones Giants. At that moment, light vanished. The ogre’s thunderous roar burst forth like an impatiently waiting thunder.

“Graaaah!”

“Gr-Growl!”

The roar of the double-headed ogre pierced through the sound of rain, echoing through the mountain range. The ogre clenched its fists, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground. Ronan, who had dashed forward, grabbed the hilt of his sword.