»A foreign scent drifted into the clear breath of the night — a scent that usually carried only the freshness of the Vyneran forests.
Lavender? Perhaps.
Perhaps — but maybe it was only that heavy, wooden resin no one had ever managed to name.«
With every firm, heavy step Donovan took…
…a strange unease spread through his chest.
Shuzo sat perched on his shoulders,
tense, brimming with curiosity.
"Look how cool that is…" he whispered.
He meant the path ahead of them.
The farther they moved from the safety of the city walls,
the more threatening the shadows of trees and bushes became.
"You really think we should go this far?" the muscle-bound giant muttered.
His voice was deep, rough — laced with a hint of uncertainty.
Shuzo, his eyes shining as he scanned the darkness, shook his head with absolute conviction.
"I'm sure nothing's gonna happen! I've got my bodyguard with me, after all."
He grinned proudly, tugging his hood a little farther down over his face — hiding himself just a bit better.
"And we'll be back home safe and sound before anyone even notices we're gone."
Don wasn't convinced.
He just grumbled under his breath as they passed two guards in uniform.
Shuzo pressed himself lightly against Don's head, trying to make himself even less visible.
The guards didn't spare them a glance —
most likely because of Don's new, intimidating size.
Once they were out of earshot, Shuzo gasped again,
his voice a little too loud in the still night:
"I've never snuck out on my own before!"
The demon pursed his lips and slowly shook his head, mumbling,
"Wow… what a thrill…"
A deep, rumbling sound escaped his chest.
"But still, buddy…"
He stopped, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder — just to make sure they weren't being followed.
"Out here, the rules aren't the same as inside the walls…"
The silhouettes of the tall trees loomed like claws, reaching for them.
"Out here, there's no protocol, no guards to protect us. There's only…"
He trailed off, searching for words that might still convince him.
"…things. Lowlifes who definitely won't be friendly."
After all, there was a reason he'd escaped the Demon Realm and fled to the Vyneran capital in the first place.
Shuzo tilted his head slightly,
a puzzled frown creasing his brow as he listened to Don's uneasy tone.
But instead of showing fear —
he playfully smacked Don on the forehead with his palm and laughed.
"Oh, stop talking like that, you big scaredy-cat!"
"Scaredy-cat?" Don repeated mockingly, shaking his head so hard that Shuzo had to grab on to keep from falling off.
"You're sitting on my shoulders and calling me a scaredy-cat? Should I drop you off, buddy?"
Shuzo chuckled softly, his fingers digging even deeper into Don's thick curls.
"No, no! I'm good! Just keep walking, muscle-head!"
The tyrant couldn't hide a faint grin
as he turned his gaze back to the narrow path ahead.
"You little rascal…" Don muttered, before his voice grew quieter:
"I just hope we don't attract the attention of… well, anything."
Silence.
"Without weapons," he added, his tone sweaty and uneasy.
His hands trembled slightly.
Everything had felt much better back in the safety of the royal palace.
Panic.
"This really isn't a good idea, buddy…" he tried again, appealing to the boy's sense of reason.
Again.
But Shuzo just rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.
Then he suddenly straightened up, pushed back his hood, and declared defiantly:
"Then I'll just go alone!"
"WHAT?!"
Don threw up his hands.
Before he could even react —
Shuzo leapt from his shoulders, landing smoothly on the ground.
"WAIT—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
But the little prince was already running.
His black braid and cloak vanished like a fleeing shadow into the night.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
Don roared — loud, furious, and terrified all at once.
For a moment, he just stood there — frozen, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Then he shook himself out of the shock and broke into a sprint.
His massive body looked heavy, but panic gave him speed.
"SHUZO!"
His voice thundered through the night — a bass-deep boom that vibrated between the dark trees.
But the brat was fast,
far too fast.
"SHUZO!
THIS IS NOT OKAY! YOU LITTLE—!"
His heart pounded in his chest.
He saw the small silhouette slipping farther and farther into the darkness.
"DAMN IT!" he spat between ragged breaths.
He fought to keep his bearings, not to lose control completely.
His asphalt-gray eyes darted frantically from shadow to shadow.
Each step grew heavier, the weight of panic pressing down on his legs.
"Where are you!—
This isn't funny!"
Then—
A brown cloak,
caught on a branch.
Don lunged for it.
His thoughts drifted to the King and Queen.
What would they do to him if something happened?
Kuroboshi Vynesalic…
He'd provoked him once before — and that had been more than enough.
By all demon asses!
Who knows what he'd do this time,
if he found out I'd lost his son?
"SHUZO?!"
His voice trembled — with real fear.
He forced his way through the undergrowth, branches snapping beneath his heavy steps.
"Come back, buddy!"
He was desperate.
The darkness seemed to swallow him whole.
Every direction looked the same.
Every rustle in the shadows made his pulse spike.
"No, this is really not good…" he stammered.
His breathing grew heavy, his gaze flickering between the shifting shapes around him.
At least until salvation — not too far ahead — broke through the chaos.
"I'm here!"
Shuzo's voice.
Donovan charged forward,
like a man possessed.
His powerful legs crashed through the undergrowth, branches splintering beneath him.
Of course, he almost tripped —
yelling, stumbling —
so theatrically over one particularly malicious root…
…that one might suspect this story didn't have the budget for a better plot.
But then—
»Don't make a fool of yourself, Donovan. Seriously. It was just a branch.«
A voice from everywhere and nowhere.
The narrator's voice.
The curly-haired demon froze mid-step —
and pure frustration hit him like a wall.
"Oh—excuse me, Mr. or Mrs. Narrator Voice!" he bellowed, hauling himself upright with a wheezing grunt — and he wasn't done yet:
"Maybe you could try running through this bargain-bin set on tree-trunk legs without tripping over something!"
He crossed his arms and pouted, lips curling into a stubborn scowl.
The answer came — cool, dry, and mercilessly casual:
»Complain all you want, but I stand by it: anyone with muscles like that should be able to handle a few sticks.«
Donovan gasped, utterly scandalized.
"I'm out here trying to save the kid — and you're turning me into the laughingstock of the story! Real classy!"
»Mhmh.«
Donovan snorted and turned away. Back to the story.
"Shuzo!"
His voice was panicked again as he ran forward —
arms bent, swinging almost delicately.
Maybe on purpose,
maybe just to spite the narrator.
When he finally spotted the little prince,
the tension drained from his body in an instant.
Shuzo stood there, looking up at him.
"Hey, Don."
So innocent —
as if he'd never run away at all.
"You're okay—thank the hells!" Don panted, dropping to a crouch.
Shuzo blinked and smiled.
"Of course."
Of course? Of course!
Don stared at him in disbelief.
"OF COURSE?!"
His voice shook with frustration.
This brat has no idea what he just put me through.
And naturally, his thoughts didn't go unmocked —
as if by some cosmic hater who just couldn't stand him but had to comment anyway:
»Really, Don? Maybe I should just turn you into an actual tree stump.
At least then you'd be stable — and stop tripping over branches every five seconds.«
He froze.
"Seriously—you're calling yourself a hater now?"
»Maybe.«
"I'm warning you, narrator voice…"
He hissed the words under his breath — low and threatening.
Meanwhile, Shuzo glanced around, wondering if that second voice was just in his imagination.
"If you threaten me again—" the tyrant growled,
"—I'll keep contradicting you until you annoy yourself to death."
»Oh, threats? How refreshing.
But I'm afraid I'm still the boss here, Donovan.«
"Huh—yeah? Well, without me, there's no story. So you better start being nice to me!"
»Touché.
Now take care of the boy before we continue this, hm?«
"I'm sorry if I worried you," Shuzo answered suddenly — hurt, and… confused.
"We're going home right now, and then straight to bed! Got it?"
Donovan tried to sound in control, though the mere thought of the royal wrath made his insides tremble.
Shuzo looked up at him with genuine remorse as he whispered:
"But I just wanted to show you something. That's why we came here."
Then it burst out of the demon like thunder:
"You're acting like a real bratty little kid, you know that?"
»Don! Are. You. SERIOUS?!«
"What now?!"
The muscle mountain instinctively glanced up at the sky.
But the head smack came from behind.
SMACK!
"Hey?!"
He spun around, huffing, searching — one hand rubbing the back of his head.
»Maybe try talking to him differently?! With less shouting? He. Is. A. CHILD!«
"And you're interfering again!" Donovan barked back, flailing his arms —
furious, indignant:
"Is that even allowed?! Aren't there, I don't know, rules for how far a narrator's allowed to go?! You penguin-voiced menace?!"
For a moment — there was an unsettling silence.
It felt as if the world itself had held its breath for a fraction of a second.
"Ha! Got you that time, didn't I?"
The tyrant demon planted his hands on his hips, grinning triumphantly.
»Ohh… my dear friend — you should know by now, I'm not made of words alone.«
Suddenly —
a tingle. A faint, high-pitched whine.
It shot through his right arm.
"Huh?"
It took him a moment to gather the courage to look down.
His heart stopped.
The sight hit him like a blade.
His massive, muscle-bound arm —
was gone.
Instead — a tiny baby arm.
It dangled pitifully, grotesquely out of place on his massive body —
like some cruel joke played by the night itself.
"AH—WHAT THE—?!" Don roared, his voice cracking in panic.
"You can't do that!"
»Oh, I can. And I did.«
Shuzo just stared —
hands pressed to his cheeks, eyes wide in sheer horror.
"Oh my god!"
His eyelids fluttered. Too much.
"Your arm—"
Thud.
He fainted. Dramatically.
Donovan caught him with his remaining arm —
like a falling sheet of fabric.
"Take this back right now! I'm a demon, for crying out loud! I'm terrifying! Powerful! I… I can't work like this!"
»Maybe now you'll learn a little respect. Or would you prefer I shrink something else?«
"NO! No, that's fine!" Don gasped, frantically raising his hands in surrender—
well, more like his tiny baby hand.
He looked like a bizarre cross between a warrior and a newborn.
Shuzo lay unconscious across his forearm, eyebrows still tragically furrowed, mouth open.
"This…" Donovan started, then stopped, sighing.
"…We're just going where you wanted to go."
Shuzo's eyes flew open. He jumped off Don's arm, his face lighting up with a bright smile.
"Really?"
»Well, well… suddenly so cooperative? How refreshing.«
"Just turn my arm back to normal, and I promise I'll be nice to him, okay?"
»We'll see. But I'll be watching you. One wrong word…«
"Yeah, yeah, fine," Donovan muttered, subdued, trudging after Shuzo.
The baby arm flopped helplessly at his side.
A faint crack echoed from the underbrush.
The whisper of the wind followed —
and soon the fog began to thicken once more, curling tighter around them both.
And while outside…
…the night grew ever darker,
inside the palace,
a different kind of unrest stirred.
The tall corridors lay bathed in the faint glow of rune-lights —
their flickering dance sliding across the stone like shallow breaths.
Measured footsteps echoed dully between the pillars;
guards in black robes patrolled in silence —
faces concealed, senses sharpened.
Yet even they could not explain why, all at once,
it felt as though something unseen
had brushed against the flow of the night.
Two of them stopped.
Their eyes met —
sharp, alert.
"Do you feel that?" one of them whispered.
The other — Valerius.
His reddish-brown eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
He lowered his gaze slowly, as if listening inward.
His breath deepened.
"She's having a nightmare."
The word hung heavy in the air.
They stood before the Queen's chambers.
The unease was intangible —
no clear threat,
yet it carried the edge of a blade.
Valerius lifted his hand,
touching the slim rune-piece at his ear to open the comm-link.
"We should report this to Kioto, just to be safe…"
But the warning came too late — too late to stop Ayumi's tormenting sleep.
The chamber itself was both magnificent and suffocating.
Tall curtains of deep purple swayed gently in the breeze drifting through the open window.
The sky orchids had suddenly lost their scent.
It was as if someone had poisoned the air itself —
the air already laced with the salt of sweat upon her skin.
On the bed lay her.
Ayumi.
Her body tossed and turned,
the chestnut-brown strands of her hair
clinging damply to her forehead.
Her fingers clenched the sheets, tugging at the fabric.
"No…"
The breath slipped from her lips — fragile, faint.
But it wasn't just a dream.
There was a whisper.
No — not a whisper. A voice.
A voice that slid into the core of her consciousness, soft yet unyielding.
A blade of whispering steel.
Before her mind's eye:
A katana.
No longer dull.
No longer black.
It glowed.
Runes —
etched deep into the blade —
awakened in a blinding white.
Ibo.
Her lips trembled, blood-red.
"Why…?"
It calls to him.
Something answered.
No—
not something.
Many.
Voices.
Layered atop one another.
Men. Women. Children.
Screams and laughter—
until they became a single chorus
that consumed her.
Ayumi jolted upright, gasping.
Her eyes flew open — and froze.
A child was hovering in midair.
Right before her.
His robe was black, silk-like.
His chest half-bared — as though he'd torn the fabric on purpose.
In white trousers, he floated above the bed.
His bare feet touched nothing.
Across his eyes, a black blindfold — tightly bound.
Silver hair fell in soft strands over his shoulders.
"And he calls to you."
The voice was not his.
It was older. Stranger.
Uncountable.
Ayumi recoiled,
her body trembling,
the blanket slipping from her legs.
Her sky-blue eyes flickered between fear and recognition — half-hidden behind the disheveled strands of her hair.
"You… you are the God of Fate…"
The boy smiled softly — almost mockingly.
"Truly… the one who dances with damnation."
Ayumi drew in a sharp breath.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Every part of her wanted to deny that he was truly here;
the god from the shrines,
from the temples,
from the forbidden scriptures.
But he stood before her.
Of flesh,
of blood,
and of shadow all at once.
"Who calls me?"
Her voice broke — a whisper, fragile as breath itself.
Her fingers clawed deeper into the sheets,
as if holding onto reality by its threads.
"The bearer."
The boy's voice flowed like water over glass.
"The bearer — the one who can divide the light from the shadows…
They awaken. The blessings.
The eternal dance begins anew…
but the truth always arrives — too late."
A tremor ran through her.
In that moment, she heard it—
the whisper.
Not from the dream.
From afar.
From the adjoining chamber, deep within the palace.
Near the throne hall.
"Protect it."
Just those two words.
And then — he was gone.
No movement.
No sound.
Simply… gone.
Ayumi's breath caught.
Her chest rose and fell faster.
Her hands dug deeper into the blanket — but there was nothing.
Nothing but cold.
She lifted her gaze —
the room was empty.
Bearer?
What bearer?
A single thought seared itself into her mind — and then:
"Shuzo!"
Panic surged through her veins like fire.
She tore herself from the bed —
her nightgown fluttering around her legs as she stumbled into the corridor.
Her hair, heavy with sweat,
lashed against her back.
The guards outside stiffened as the door slid open with a sharp hum;
Ayumi's bare feet struck the stone floor hard.
The light of the runes reflected in her widened eyes.
"HE'S GONE!"
Her voice shattered the silence.
There was no trace of royal composure left in her —
only the raw, trembling fear…
of a mother.
»And outside, beyond the palace walls, something had already begun to stir…
A figure — one that didn't even touch the ground.
The faint mist drew back, as if bowing to the intruder's presence.
A trace of lavenderwood drifted through the night — bitter and warm at once,
strange, all-consuming.
A smile.
Too narrow for warmth,
too wide for peace —
curved across his lips.
"A little Vyneran…
wandering beyond the walls at night."
The words dripped into the darkness like poison — soft, amused —
and…
hungry.«