POV: Hana Hyakui
The cold air of Bustleburg's outskirts bit through Hana's cloak as she adjusted her quiver straps for the fifth time that morning. Her hands were stiff from lack of sleep and food, yet she moved with quiet precision, like a bowstring held at half-draw. Around her, the team walked in heavy silence — six figures cloaked in travel-stained black, the wind carrying only the faint clink of Kaito's sword at the rear.
Nogare walked in front, his presence oddly effortless despite the long march. He didn't look back. He didn't need to. His instincts felt sharper than any blade in their group. Hana sometimes wondered if he even slept at all — or if he simply waited for the rest of the world to catch up to his next move.
Ryuji's voice broke the silence first.
"Three days without proper rations, and now you're taking us off the road?" His tone was sour, impatient. The mage's crimson-lined hood did little to hide the dark circles under his eyes. "We'll starve before we even see the city walls."
Kuroba kicked at a loose stone beside him. "He's right. We had a plan, Nogare — northwest approach, wait for nightfall. Why detour through a cliffside? You trying to kill us slower?"
Nogare didn't answer immediately. The sound of his boots on gravel carried like a slow heartbeat. When he finally spoke, his tone was low and deliberate.
"You may see from afar," he said, not turning, "but you cannot see what will happen next."
Ryuji frowned. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one that matters," Nogare replied.
The words hung in the cold air like frost. Hana felt the others glance between one another, but none challenged him again. They continued upward, the slope turning steeper, cliffs like cracked teeth jutting out from the earth. The terrain offered cover — and danger. Below them, the main trade road stretched like a pale scar through the valley, dotted with empty wagons and what looked like the faint glint of Valerian banners in the far distance.
"...We're avoiding patrols," Hana whispered, realization dawning.
Nogare finally looked back at her, and his eyes — sharp as polished glass — held a faint smile. "Exactly."
The tension eased slightly, but not the fatigue. By midafternoon, the group stumbled upon a cluster of ruined tents and broken carts near a rock ledge — an abandoned mining post, judging by the half-collapsed wooden shafts and rusting tools scattered about.
Zentake whistled softly. "Guess this was a Valerian supply point. Smells like iron dust and regret."
He crouched near a shattered crate, fingers already moving quickly, picking through herbs, bottles, and a handful of glittering shards embedded in the dirt. "Jackpot. Mystic embers. Refined ones too."
Kuroba's voice came from behind a broken tent post. "You and your trash collecting. What do you even do with those?"
"Booms. Pretty ones," Zentake replied cheerfully.
Nogare, however, was studying the items more closely. "Zentake. Give those embers to Ryuji."
"What? No way! I can use these for explosives—"
Nogare turned his head slightly. His gaze carried no anger, only quiet certainty. "His staff needs it more than your bottles."
Ryuji blinked in surprise as Zentake grudgingly handed him the red-hued fragments. "How would you know that?" the mage asked.
Nogare gave a faint shrug. "An old lady told me."
"Sure she did," Ryuji muttered.
Then Nogare looked to Kaito, who stood a little apart from them, arms crossed and sword resting on his shoulder. "You. You've done weapon fusion before, haven't you?"
Kaito's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"
"Try it," Nogare said, stepping closer and holding out the ember and staff together. "You've never tested raw fusion before, have you? The ember's resonance matches his weapon core. Let's see what happens."
Kaito exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath. "Fine. But if it explodes, you're buying the next staff."
He placed the ember against the staff's core crystal. The moment his hand touched both, a low hum rippled through the air — a pulse of mana so strong that Hana felt her hair rise. Kaito's eyes gleamed faintly blue as he invoked his skill.
Weapon Synthesis.
The sound was like stone grinding against fire. The ember liquefied, sinking into the staff's surface, merging into the wood as crimson veins spread across it like blood through paper. The air shimmered with heat, and Ryuji staggered back, clutching the weapon.
"It's...alive," he breathed. "The mana flow — it's burning through me!"
Nogare's lips curled faintly. "Later, you'll feel more than just heat."
Zentake wiped his forehead and groaned. "Yeah, later you'll probably explode."
Ryuji shot him a glare, but even he couldn't hide the awe in his eyes. The staff glowed dimly, red runes flickering like coals in the dark.
As the light faded, silence returned to the ruined camp. Kaito slumped against a rock, drained but steady. Nogare took a slow look around — the empty tents, the burnt-out torches, the fading sunlight painting the cliffside in dull orange.
"This place will do," he said at last. "We rest here. Dawn will bring clearer sight."
The team moved mechanically, setting up what little shelter they could: a few tarps against the wind, a tiny fire using broken pick handles. Hana sat apart, bow resting across her knees, eyes on the faint glimmer of the distant city.
Bustleburg lay beyond those ridges — the next shadow on their path. She wondered how many of them would return from it.
Her gaze drifted to Nogare, who stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind pulling at his coat. He looked like a man already walking somewhere else — somewhere only he could see.
Hana lowered her head, fingers tightening on her bowstring.
For a moment, she thought she saw something reflected in his eyes — the faint shimmer of flame, of a city burning before it even fell.
The night deepened around them, quiet and heavy.
Somewhere below, a wolf howled.
And Nogare whispered, almost to himself,
"Later, the sightless will finally see."