The morning after the duel felt different.
The air was softer. The sky lighter. The village quieter, as if the earth itself had decided to hold its breath for just one more day of peace.
Dantero wandered through the streets with a lazy grin, hands in his pockets, coat brushing against his legs. Children ran past him, laughing, still arguing over who would have won yesterday if the fight had continued.
Dantero: I would've, obviously.
The kids ignored him. He smirked anyway.
He passed the small market. The smell of baked bread, grilled meat, and burning incense filled the air. Merchants waved, hesitant at first, but not afraid anymore. They were used to him now — the loud outsider who smiled too easily and ate too much.
Elder: You have been walking the same road for an hour, traveler.
Dantero stopped and turned. The Elder stood near a small stall, hands clasped behind her back, eyes sharper than ever.
Dantero: Just soaking it in. Never thought I'd see a place this peaceful again.
Elder: Peace is fragile. Especially around those who chase storms.
Dantero grinned.
Dantero: Yeah, well, storms follow me whether I chase them or not.
Elder: Then may the wind pity you.
He chuckled softly and bought a small loaf of bread, tossing a coin onto the counter.
Dantero: You know, for a world surrounded by chaos, this place still feels real. Grounded. Like it remembers what it's supposed to be.
Elder: That's because it was built by people who lost everything. Pain taught them to build slowly. Carefully.
Dantero nodded.
Dantero: I like that. Makes every smile here feel earned.
He looked toward the fields. Rykaou stood there again, same stance, same calm, the morning light catching the silver streaks of his hair.
Dantero: Guess he's been up for hours.
Elder: He never sleeps long. His dreams are heavy.
Dantero: Because of her?
The Elder's expression softened. She nodded once.
Elder: Alyra. His partner. His equal in every way that mattered. She was taken during the great collapse. He has not spoken her name aloud since.
Dantero's voice grew quiet.
Dantero: She mattered that much, huh?
Elder: She was his balance. The beast learned mercy through her. And when she was gone, he lost both.
Dantero looked down, the usual grin gone.
Dantero: Damn.
Elder: But... you changed something. I saw it yesterday. When he fought you, there was life again in his eyes. Maybe even curiosity.
Dantero: I just threw punches. He did the rest.
Elder: Sometimes that's enough.
The wind shifted. Bells chimed softly along the rooftops. The villagers began to gather near the field.
Rykaou was waiting for them.
He stood tall, his sword across his back, his old tattered coat replaced by a simple new one gifted by the people. His expression didn't change, but the sadness that usually lingered in his eyes had thinned.
The Elder stepped forward.
Elder: So, the Beast of the Valley leaves us after all.
Rykaou: You always knew this day would come.
Elder: I hoped it wouldn't. But I'm glad it did.
A child ran forward, the same girl from before, clutching a small wooden carving shaped like a hawk. She held it out with both hands.
Child: I made this for you. So you don't forget us.
Rykaou knelt, his rough hands trembling as he accepted it.
Rykaou: I won't forget. Not any of you.
Child: You promise?
Rykaou: I swear on her name.
The crowd grew quiet. Even the wind stilled for a moment. The Elder lowered her head in respect.
Elder: May Alyra's spirit walk beside you, child.
Rykaou stood again, eyes glinting under the sunlight.
Rykaou: She always has.
Dantero leaned against a fence, watching silently. For once, he didn't say a word. He just smiled, small and real.
As Rykaou turned toward him, their eyes met. No words needed.
Dantero: You ready?
Rykaou: As I'll ever be.
Dantero: You sure about leaving all this behind?
Rykaou: I'm not leaving it behind. I'm carrying it forward.
Dantero grinned.
Dantero: Damn. You're getting good at the whole dramatic quote thing.
Rykaou: I learned from the best.
Dantero: Oh? Me?
Rykaou: No. The Emperor.
Dantero laughed, loud and honest.
Dantero: Fair. He's got better timing anyway.
The villagers approached, one by one, offering short blessings, quick goodbyes, small smiles hiding tears. Some thanked him for years of protection. Others couldn't even speak — just pressed their hands to their hearts.
Rykaou accepted every gesture in silence.
When the last villager stepped back, he looked at them all one final time.
Rykaou: Protect each other. Don't wait for someone else to fight your battles. That's what she would've wanted.
Elder: And what do you want, Rykaou?
He paused, his eyes scanning the faces that had become his home.
Rykaou: To stop running from the scent of my past.
Elder: Then go. And may the wind remember your name.
He nodded, turned, and began walking beside Dantero.
They passed the final gate together. Beyond it stretched the open plains, vast and endless beneath a golden morning sky.
Dantero: You know, for someone who claims to hate attention, you just made half a village cry.
Rykaou: Better tears than silence.
Dantero: Fair. So where to first?
Rykaou: You said you had someone to meet.
Dantero smiled faintly.
Dantero: Yeah. Someone you've wanted to meet for a long time.
Rykaou: Him?
Dantero: Maybe.
Rykaou: You're impossible.
Dantero: And yet you're walking with me.
Rykaou: I must be losing my mind.
Dantero: Nah. You're just finding it again.
They walked on, the wind at their backs, the village shrinking behind them until it was just a speck of memory.
Rykaou glanced one last time at the horizon where Alyra once stood beside him in another life.
He whispered her name.
Rykaou: Alyra... I'm moving forward.
Dantero pretended not to hear. He just smiled and kept walking.
The road ahead shimmered faintly, worlds overlapping in the distance — endless skies waiting to be crossed.
And somewhere far beyond them, the Dark Empire slept, waiting for its Emperor to awaken once more.
The plains stretched endlessly ahead of them.
Grass bent with the wind, shimmering under a sun that felt too bright for its own sky. Dust lifted from their boots with every step, following them like a quiet memory.
Dantero hummed an old tune, one he barely remembered. Rykaou walked beside him, silent as always, his hand brushing the hilt of the curved blade resting on his back.
Dantero: So. You ever been past the valley?
Rykaou: Once. Long ago.
Dantero: Let me guess, hunting something?
Rykaou: Protecting someone.
Dantero: Same difference.
Rykaou didn't answer. The two of them walked through a field that stretched forever, their shadows long across the golden grass.
Hours passed. The hills gave way to plains, and the plains to an open road lined with thin white trees. Every few miles, they passed stone markers carved with strange runes that glowed faintly when the sunlight hit them.
Dantero: What are these?
Rykaou: Old boundaries. Before the worlds merged, people used these to separate lands.
Dantero: So, like, "welcome to the next messed-up country" signs?
Rykaou: Something like that.
Dantero smirked.
Dantero: At least they look nice.
He ran his hand along one as they passed. The stone hummed faintly, alive with faint vibration.
The road dipped into a small village by noon. Houses built from sandstone stood close together, and the people wore light robes to fight the heat. Music echoed faintly through the market square — strings, bells, voices.
Dantero stretched his arms.
Dantero: Finally. Civilization.
Rykaou: Stay quiet here.
Dantero: You say that like I ever do.
Rykaou didn't bother replying.
They entered the market. Vendors shouted about fruit, bread, spices. The air smelled of smoke, salt, and roasted meat. Children ran between stalls chasing a cloth ball.
Dantero slowed down, eyes wandering from one display to another. The people here had eyes that shimmered faintly gold. Not inhuman, just touched by something.
Dantero: You seeing that?
Rykaou: The fusion changed bloodlines. Every region adapted differently.
Dantero: So they got glowing eyes. Lucky them. I got taxes.
Rykaou: You never stop talking, do you?
Dantero: Not when I'm this hungry.
They stopped at a food stall. The owner, a tall man with golden-brown skin and long braids, looked at them with cautious curiosity.
Vendor: Travelers?
Dantero: Hungry travelers.
The man smiled.
Vendor: That's the best kind. Sit.
He handed them skewers of grilled meat glazed with a sweet-spicy sauce. Dantero bit in immediately, eyes widening.
Dantero: Oh. Oh, that's good. Like, ridiculously good.
Vendor: It's phoenix tail.
Dantero froze.
Dantero: ...What now?
Vendor: Not real phoenix. Bird named after it. Still good, yes?
Dantero nodded slowly with his mouth full.
Dantero: Yeah. I was ready to fight a god if it meant eating this again.
The vendor laughed, and for a brief moment, so did Rykaou. Just a small exhale through the nose, but enough for Dantero to notice.
Dantero: Did you just laugh? Mark this day down. The beast smiles.
Rykaou: You're insufferable.
Dantero: And proud of it.
They stayed in the market until the sun dipped lower. The people there treated them kindly once they realized they weren't dangerous. They shared food, stories, and even music.
One old man brought out an instrument shaped like a spiral horn and played a melody that sounded like wind through mountains. Rykaou listened quietly, eyes closed.
Dantero watched him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
Dantero: You're thinking of her again, aren't you?
Rykaou didn't answer at first. Then quietly:
Rykaou: She liked music like this. Said it sounded like the world remembering how to breathe.
Dantero: Sounds like she was smart.
Rykaou: She was everything.
The silence between them held weight, but not sorrow. More like acceptance.
When night came, they left the village behind. The stars burned larger than before, and three moons hung over the horizon.
They camped near a cliff that overlooked a glowing valley. The trees below emitted light, their leaves reflecting shades of blue and silver.
Dantero tossed a pebble down, watching it vanish into the forest glow.
Dantero: This world's way too pretty for the chaos it's got.
Rykaou: Beauty hides pain better than anything else.
Dantero: Poetic. You practicing for when you write a book?
Rykaou: No one reads anymore.
Dantero: I would.
Rykaou: You can't sit still long enough.
Dantero grinned.
Dantero: Fair point.
They sat by the fire. Rykaou's aura flickered faintly — that subtle ripple of life force that always made the air heavier. Dantero leaned back on his hands.
Dantero: You ever wonder what it's all for?
Rykaou: Survival. Purpose. Redemption. Take your pick.
Dantero: I mean everything. The worlds. The people. The fights.
Rykaou looked at him.
Rykaou: You met the Emperor. You've seen what he fights for.
Dantero: Yeah. Peace. Balance. All that good hero talk. But peace feels small when you've seen everything fall apart before.
Rykaou: Then maybe peace isn't meant to be big. Maybe it's meant to fit in small places.
Dantero blinked, then laughed softly.
Dantero: You sound like him sometimes.
Rykaou: Maybe that's why you tolerate me.
Dantero: Tolerate? I like you, man. You make the silence less boring.
Rykaou: I prefer silence.
Dantero: Then you're welcome.
The fire cracked between them. Above, the moons shifted, aligning faintly — an omen of some kind neither bothered to name.
They rested.
Morning came again, and the journey continued.
They crossed rivers that shimmered like glass. They passed mountains that breathed fog through endless forests. Every step took them closer to the farthest border of the known lands.
Villages blurred by — each one different, each one carrying traces of old worlds that had fused together. In one, people lived inside shells of massive sea creatures turned to stone. In another, the streets floated above the ground, kept aloft by invisible currents.
Dantero adapted quickly. He laughed with strangers, drank with travelers, told stories that might have been true. Rykaou listened, said little, but watched everything.
He saw fear where others saw peace. Hunger where others saw prosperity. He could smell deceit in laughter, desperation in smiles. But he said nothing.
At one small coastal town, they helped a group of fishermen pull their boats to shore before a storm. Dantero joked through it, while Rykaou moved silently, strong and sure. When it was done, the fishermen offered them food and drink.
An old woman asked who they were.
Dantero: Travelers. Looking for something worth finding.
The woman nodded.
Old woman: Be careful where you walk. The world looks calm, but it remembers every war it's survived.
Rykaou looked toward the sea.
Rykaou: Then maybe it's time someone teaches it peace again.
Dantero glanced at him, surprised.
Dantero: That might be the most hopeful thing you've ever said.
Rykaou: Don't get used to it.
They left at dawn.
The road turned to sand, then to stone, then to endless grass again. Each horizon carried another shape, another color, another culture.
Weeks passed.
Dantero kept count of how many meals he managed to talk his way into. Rykaou kept count of how many lives they quietly helped. They never spoke about it, but both knew.
Every few nights, Dantero would talk by the fire.
Dantero: You ever think about what you'll do when you meet him?
Rykaou: I don't know.
Dantero: Hug? Cry? Ask for a job?
Rykaou: Probably just kneel.
Dantero: He wouldn't like that.
Rykaou: Then I'll stand.
Dantero smiled faintly.
Dantero: Good answer.
The nights grew colder as they neared the northern lands. Snow began to fall, light at first, then thick and heavy. The forests turned white, the rivers froze over, and their breaths came out as clouds.
Dantero shivered.
Dantero: You'd think after everything, I'd be immune to the cold.
Rykaou: Adapt or freeze.
Dantero: You really missed your calling as a motivational speaker.
Rykaou: I prefer fighting to talking.
Dantero: Yeah, noticed.
They found shelter in an abandoned shrine built halfway up a mountain. The walls were cracked but still stood, covered in carvings of beasts and warriors.
Dantero brushed snow off a stone tablet.
Dantero: "The Ones Who Stand Between the Light and the Shadow." Sounds fancy.
Rykaou: It's older than it looks. These carvings are from before the merges.
Dantero: You can read that?
Rykaou: I can smell it.
Dantero: You what?
Rykaou: Languages have scents. Old ones smell like iron and smoke. This one smells like both.
Dantero blinked, then started laughing.
Dantero: You're serious?
Rykaou: Always.
Dantero: You're terrifying.
Rykaou ignored him and sat down near the old altar. His eyes closed, his breathing slowed, and the air around him shifted — calm, heavy, ancient.
Dantero watched for a moment, then sat down too.
Dantero: You know, kid, if I didn't know better, I'd think this world's still alive. Like it's waiting for something.
Rykaou: It is.
Dantero: What?
Rykaou opened his eyes. They glowed faintly, the color of dusk.
Rykaou: Him.
Dantero: The Emperor?
Rykaou: Everything breathes differently when he exists. Even the wind waits.
Dantero looked at the flickering flame between them.
Dantero: Then I guess we better not keep him waiting.
Rykaou: You talk like you already know the way.
Dantero: Maybe I do.
Rykaou: Maybe you don't.
Dantero: Guess we'll find out.
The storm outside howled louder, shaking the shrine walls.
Rykaou closed his eyes again. His aura pulsed faintly, syncing with the rhythm of the storm. Dantero leaned back against the cold stone, hands behind his head.
Dantero: You know, if we die out here, I'm haunting you.
Rykaou: You'd be a loud ghost.
Dantero: The loudest.
Rykaou: Then I'll find another mountain.
Dantero laughed quietly, his voice echoing off the cracked walls.
They stayed there through the night.
When morning came, the storm had cleared. The sky was sharp and blue.
From the shrine's cliff, they could see everything — valleys of white, frozen lakes shining like mirrors, distant lights flickering in cities far below.
Dantero stood there, hair whipping in the wind.
Dantero: We're close. I can feel it.
Rykaou: You sure?
Dantero: Yeah. Call it instinct. Or fate. Or bad luck.
Rykaou: Probably all three.
They began the descent.
With every step, the air grew warmer. The snow thinned. The valleys below glowed with life. And far beyond — too far for human eyes — something vast and sleeping stirred beneath layers of worlds.
Dantero felt it.
He smiled.
Dantero: Let's go.
Rykaou: Back to your home already?
Dantero nods while walking.
Dantero: Yep, back to Emperor Dark.
To Be Continued.
End Of Chapter 5