Satoru moved swiftly along the rooftop edges, eyes locked on the faint trace of darkness slipping through the dim alleys beneath. The scent of magic lingered in the air—thick and bitter. He was close. Too close.
But before he could leap to the next rooftop, a noise—a barely audible misstep—reached his ear. Without hesitation, Satoru dropped silently behind the chimney stack and waited. A shadow crept near. In one fluid motion, he lunged and pinned the stalker to the ground.
"...Arne?!"
The boy grimaced under his grip. "You noticed."
Satoru let out a sigh, helping Arne up. "Why are you following me? You should be with your sister."
"She's fine. Yuri's not a child," Arne replied. "You need someone to cover your back, and I'm not letting you face this alone."
Satoru hesitated but eventually nodded. Together, they moved toward the outskirts, slipping into the ruins like ghosts. They crouched behind the broken stone wall, whispering their plan to enter without alerting the guards.
"Knock them out if needed," Satoru said quietly. "Don't kill anyone."
Arne nodded firmly.
One by one, they took down the patrolling guards, moving like shadows in the dark. Inside, the stone floor was etched with an eerie, glowing circle—an exact replica of the drawing in the notebook. The slave merchants were using magic teleportation arrays. This place had been their true destination.
Interrogation of the captured mercenaries led them to one name: a man known in the city for crafting such arrays. Satoru and Arne decided to find him the next morning.
When they returned to the inn that night, Yuri was pretending to sleep. Satoru stared at her quietly for a moment, sensing something off—but said nothing. They both turned in for the night.
By dawn, they were on the move.
The man they found was nervous, clearly aware of what his arrays were used for. With some pressure, he finally spoke.
"There was... someone else. Asked me the same things yesterday."
He stopped abruptly, refusing to say more—even as Satoru grew agitated. Furious, Satoru slammed the table, ready to act rashly. Arne grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. Heated words turned into a shove, then a brief clash of fists before Satoru, breathing heavily, apologized.
They returned to the inn, emotions still high. That night, a silent agreement passed between them: they needed to prepare.
The next week was spent in training, gathering equipment, and forming a formal adventuring party with Yuri. Though she smiled, there was something in her eyes—something Satoru couldn't place.
They accepted a small mission to mask their movements. All the while, the target was clear: the slave traders' boss.
When they finally arrived, the front gate guards were already dead.
Satoru frowned. "Someone's beaten us here."
Inside, chaos awaited. Yuri stood locked in battle with the slave master. Arne rushed to assist her. Satoru turned his gaze to the wave of reinforcements arriving. His expression hardened.
"No mercy this time. Kill them all."
Steel clashed and spells flew. Satoru fought like a tempest, cutting down enemy after enemy. By the time it was over, blood soaked the ground.
Breathing heavily, he turned toward Yuri.
But before he could speak, something pulsed in his mind. A whisper—a pressure. He staggered slightly.
Yuri rushed to his side. "Satoru! Are you okay?"
He flinched and instinctively pushed her back.
"You idiot... What are you doing here?"
Realizing his tone, he sighed. "Sorry."
Yuri lowered her head. "I couldn't sit still. I thought I could help."
"You did," Arne added, helping her stand. "You saved people."
The freed slaves, trembling and exhausted, offered their gratitude. Some even wanted to follow them in service.
"Don't," Satoru said. "Go live your lives freely."
As they exited the hideout, the sun beginning to rise, Satoru turned to Arne.
"We started this night chasing a shadow... How did we end up in someone else's war?"
Arne said nothing, and Yuri only stared at the path ahead.
Satoru clenched his fist. That presence... it was still here.
Was it helping him? Watching? Guiding?
What was happening in this world?
He had no answers. Only more questions—and a growing shadow that followed silently behind.