The nights in Stonebugch are quieter by the day, and even the last cicadas of late summer are dying. The uneasiness that permeated the air crept silently into everyone's heart, suppressing the whispers of doubt and fear in the deepest darkness, and never daring to utter it again, as if a single word would bring unforeseen disaster.

Scott stepped out of the courtyard and looked up at the sky. The faint red light near Angelo flickered silently, flickering in and out, like a slightly narrowed eye, with a careless mockery...... Or an icy warning.

Scott lowered his eyes, and the lines of his lips didn't change in the slightest. He took a step, stepping from the darkness into the shadows, and when he looked up again, it was no longer the starry sky of a summer night that shone above him, but a dome of jewels.

The firelight flickered, and those bright gems looked even brighter than the real stars...... But it's not true after all.

"You're back. ”

In the darkness beside him, Copas Fenton's tone could almost be described as relieved.

“...... Didn't you bring back that sword?"

The priest stepped into the firelight, and soon noticed that the sword at Scott's waist was still the same as before.

"We don't need it right now. Scott replied.

Copas could only nod.

"We've got everything ready," he said, "and we're ready to go." ”

"Let's get started. Scott said.

"When?"

"Now. ”

Copas was stunned and looked up at Scott.

He couldn't tell from that face that the other party was joking, serious...... Still sarcastic about the eagerness he thought he had disguised well enough.

"I know this is just the beginning," the pastor suppressed the anger in his heart, his tone still calm and sincere, "but it should be more or less solemn......"

"Tomorrow night, then. Scott said casually.

He left the hall without waiting for Copas to answer, without even looking at the statue-like ice dragon standing in front of him.

Copas stared at his back in silence, his eyes coldening a little.

"Tomorrow night. He said, like a simple repetition, but also like some kind of promise.

Tomorrow night is not a good day...... The moon is not round, it is really not very beautiful, and it does not have any special significance......

But what they did would make that dull night henceforth have a sacred name.

Copas lowered his head, believing the involuntary excitement of that moment in a humble gesture of prayer.

The sound of very light footsteps stopped one step away from him, and an Anktann man, still dressed as a hunter, whispered something in his ear.

“...... Let him be. "When he returns, guard the temple and forbid him to enter or leave." ”

Of course, he couldn't help Scott...... But what else could Scott do?

He may never give up the struggle, but he will never escape.

.

The door closed behind him. Scott stood in the dark for a moment in the room, where there was no life, and suddenly there was an urge to return to Stonebuch and come back tomorrow night.

But that doesn't make sense.

He didn't light the lamp. The moonlight poured in through the half-closed curtains, and there was a faint movement in the faint light.

Scott stared at the glimmer of light, watching a faint shadow gradually take shape in the glimmer, but it was always faint as if it could be easily blown away in one breath.

It was about the appearance of a boy, with blond hair as pale as moonlight, and blue eyes that were sometimes clear and sometimes empty. For a moment, Scott felt that it was vaguely like what Iss had been when he was a child, and even a little angry because of it—he didn't like anyone trying to sway him with Iss.

But he quickly recognized that it was not Is...... It was the little prince of the House of Dejuri, Sergio.

Or, not exactly.

A lost teenage boy doesn't have the eyes that are as clear as a clear sky on snow—even if they sink into the fog every now and then.

He looked at Scott earnestly, but couldn't make a sound.

Then he reached out the window, and a little breeze blew up the curtains from nowhere, allowing Scott to see the far horizon like a pile of bones in the far north.

The shadow trembled, and in the blink of an eye, it dissipated like smoke into the moonlight.

Scott was still standing there, motionless.

He probably knows what he wants him to do...... But what does that have to do with him? He has a lot more important to do, and there's really no need to make a fuss.

.

Sesyana half-knelt in the shadows, looking out at the temple in the wilderness in the distance.

Yet his gaze always unconsciously retracted, falling on the pale ruins in the moonlight.

Miaz Weiss, the Light of the North, the greatest city of the Northland Elves that Norway once described to him...... He was finally able to come here, only to feel endless sadness after a brief moment of excitement.

The elves have long since lost the city, just as it lost the pride and glory of a thousand years ago.

But he still couldn't get enough of every fragment of the ruined city, the broken statues, the patterns that snaked under the dust...... He even read the names on every tombstone in the cemetery.

He could clearly feel the decay and withering of the ruined city—and not just because it had been abandoned for millennia. The late summer wind was already chilling from the snow-covered peaks of Giant's Ridge, but it was supposed to be the season of lush vegetation, and there wasn't even a single blooming wildflower in this deserted city...... All the leaves were green and black, as if they would begin to rot in the next moment, there was no sign of any animal in the grass, and there was not a single bird in the sky.

He had only seen a snowy owl circling in mid-air a few times, and then walked away without stopping.

It's a dead city.

The uneasiness grew stronger by the day, and the instincts of the elves and warriors alike told him to get away from the city as soon as possible...... But he has his own tasks.

The night seemed to pass without any movement, as it had been for the previous nights. He blinked, and suddenly looked into the distance again.

Even if he is occasionally distracted, he doesn't miss what he should be paying attention to. In the distance, in the plaza outside the temple, a guard walked slowly with a torch.

In the wilderness at a glance, such a tour is just a show. Maybe the wind was too strong, or maybe they were sleepy, and the guards stopped and stopped, and the flickering torches were exchanged between the two hands.

Only the eyes of the elves could catch his movements. Sethiana watched quietly for a moment, then suddenly got up and walked silently down the broken steps at the edge of the stone platform.

Halfway through, he stopped—the message from the firelight was right in front of his eyes.

.