Refinement.

It was a path every powerful weapon inevitably had to take.

‘To become sharper and stronger, it must undergo forging.’

But for a weapon inhabited by a soul, the forging process could never be just refinement.

Pain.

With consciousness came an entirely new dimension of suffering. Only by enduring the agony of being torn apart and reassembled could a weapon reach the next level of spirit and steel.

『W-Wait! I never agreed to this!』

Naiad’s urgent cry rang out, but it was already too late.

“Naiad, whether I force you in again or not—whatever happens, don’t try to come out.”

Clay’s voice was sharp and immediate.

“The process has already begun. Now that you’ve been recognized as one with Syltanaro, if you try to change the conditions mid-way, who knows what’ll happen.”

『B-But I can’t just sit here like this! What if I get forged along with her?! You really think that’s okay?!』

“Shhh.”

Clay pressed a finger to his lips and gave her a look.

Naiad involuntarily gulped, like she’d hiccupped, and fell silent.

Silence.

It settled over them like a heavy fog.

‘Did something go wrong?’

Clay frowned, wondering if Naiad’s outburst had interrupted the refinement process.

But then—

【…When minds are divided, greater pain follows.】

It was more of a warning than a declaration.

【Is your weapon forged with the kind of unwavering trust that can endure the hammering of reversal?】

The meaning was difficult to fully grasp.

But—

“If it can endure, then that’s trust enough.”

Clay spoke directly back into the voice.

“So now, I’d like to see the outcome from your side.”

There were two souls within.

But only one form existed before them.

The refinement process here had nothing to do with erasing or preserving personalities.

There were only two outcomes:

—the worst, where the enhancement failed, the blade shattered, and the souls within were destroyed with it;

—or success, yielding a new and superior blade.

【Very well. Permission granted.】

Rumble…

After a moment of trembling, a path opened beneath their feet.

“…I won’t ask you to believe in anything else.”

Clay spoke to both Syltanaro and Naiad.

“If you don’t understand anything right now—then believe in me.”

『Coward.』

But no one here could say they didn’t trust him.

『Still… I do.』

Naiad muttered her trust, laced with a sigh.

『I do as well.』

With Syltanaro’s agreement, Clay finally stepped toward the path beneath the ground.

“Let’s begin, then.”

And just like that, his form vanished into the darkness.

♧

Thud.

In a back alley of Ezer—

A drunken man, stumbling along, bumped shoulders with one of a group clad in black.

“Hey, what the hell!”

He swung the bottle in his hand and shouted.

“Crowded alley and a bunch of morons come marching through! Huh?!”

“What? Morons?”

The group immediately bared their teeth.

“You trying to die, you human bastard?!”

“H-Huh?”

He pointed a trembling finger—

The “teeth” were real.

“Y-You’re just damn beasts!”

“Beasts.”

That was the slur used before beastkin were acknowledged as equals to humans.

“Beasts? You son of a—!”

The deer beastkin pulled back her hood, revealing her antlers, and stepped forward—but another stepped in to stop her.

“Enough.”

It was a wolf beastkin, marked by his ears and tail.

“We’re not here to cause trouble.”

“Ah, another mutt just like her.”

The drunk sneered, mocking his rational tone.

“Came to drag back the Hero’s little pet, didn’t you? Go on, take Nael and use her to suck up to the Krata Emperor again! That savage bitch!”

“You mother—!”

“Ragna.”

The wolf beastkin called her name before she could lunge.

“He’s just a drunk idiot. Nothing more.”

“Even so, this is too far! How can he talk like that about Nael, who fought beside the Hero and saved the world—!”

“Hero? Pffft!”

The man suddenly broke into laughter.

“Traitor to the gods, sleeping with the Demon King—how the hell did he save the world?! They were all just Demon King’s pets! Hero, Nael, all of them—grk?!”

He couldn’t finish.

The wolf beastkin’s furry fist slammed into his face.

“B-Baran!”

“Did you kill him?!”

The others panicked, but Baran answered calmly.

“He’s not dead.”

“You crossed the line.”

Baran’s voice was calm, but firm.

“I only knocked some sense into a man who insulted something that should never be insulted.”

“Seems more like you knocked him out…” someone muttered.

“Hey, Baran.”

Ignoring the murmurs of the others, Ragna called to him.

“When Nael was being insulted, you told me to back off. But now that traitor Hero gets mentioned, and then you throw a punch?”

“Ragna.”

“What? Can’t stand hearing it? Because of him, we’re about to be hated all over again!”

The beastkin.

For most of history, they were seen as savages in a human-centered society—discriminated against and oppressed for generations.

It was only in recent years that the tide had turned.

When the Hero took Nael, a beastkin, as one of his companions and fought to save the world, people who had been saved by the Hero’s party began to abandon their prejudice.

Nael was even revered as a hero in her own right, and with that, the perception of beastkin had finally shifted. They had become a race humanity could respect.

“Look at what’s happening now!”

But that glory didn’t last.

After the Hero was executed for supposedly colluding with the Demon King, the standing of his former companions crumbled.

No longer seen as pure heroes, they stood on shaky ground. And then Ezer took a stand against the Holy Alliance.

The people of Ezer needed a scapegoat for their fear.

And so the beastkin—stateless, scattered nomads—were hit hardest. The easiest target for human resentment.

When Nael began appearing in underground fight rings, the public smeared her as a wild beast who only knew how to brawl—spreading claims that her temperament had tainted the Hero’s party.

And the drunken fool who had just insulted her? He was only voicing what many already thought.

“If we go to war with Krata and lose, we’ll be back to the way things were! Worse even! We won’t even be able to sleep without fearing we’ll be dragged out of bed!”

“Ragna, don’t forget who first pulled us out of hatred.”

Clay.

The Hero who embraced the beastkin without hesitation.

“We did nothing when he was executed. Because we were afraid of being hated. We didn’t want to go back to that life.”

“That’s—!”

“You remember, don’t you? That bread he gave you when you were starving?”

Ragna fell silent.

“All of it…”

Her fist clenched tight.

“It was all a lie, wasn’t it?”

The storm of emotion finally broke across her face.

“IT WAS ALL A LIE! THAT DAMN BASTARD!”

All she could do now was lash out, like the humans had done to her.

“If you were going to act like a hero, then see it through! Why’d you stop halfway and ruin everything?! WHY?!”

“……”

No one responded. The silence that followed was deafening.

“…Have I kept you waiting long?”

Except for one voice.

“Nael…!”

Ragna gasped when she saw who had spoken.

Wolf ears. A tail. She wore no cloak to hide her identity—unlike the others. Nael stood openly before them.

“I’ve come so many times. Why show up now?! What are you doing here?! What face do you think you can show?!”

“Did you want me not to show up again?”

“What?!”

“Calm down, Ragna,” Nael said coolly.

“Throwing a scene like this only hurts our position.”

In the meantime, the drunken man Baran had struck fled down the alley, staggering.

Ragna followed his retreating figure with her eyes before snapping her gaze back to Nael.

“If you cared about our position, you would’ve left Ezer!”

“I’m sorry. But I have the freedom to act as I choose.”

Nael looked directly at her.

“And that should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

There was a time when they couldn’t even dream of that freedom. When beastkin wanted nothing more than the ability to act by their own will.

“You’re joking.”

Ragna’s voice trembled.

“You have any idea how much hangs on you?”

“I’ve changed enough already. Now it’s your turn to carry the rest.”

Nael spoke softly.

“That’s what I came to say. Don’t try to convince me otherwise.”

“What?”

“I’m not meant to lead the beastkin. Stop clinging to me.”

“You—!”

“Wait, Nael.”

Before Ragna could lunge forward, Baran blocked her.

“We didn’t come to break your will.”

He pulled a letter from his cloak.

“Even if you refuse to lead us… this is something you must see.”

“A letter?”

Nael took it from him—and her eyes widened the moment she read it.

“What…”

Her voice dropped.

“This can’t be real…”

The other beastkin exchanged whispers.

“Baran, what is that…?”

“You didn’t show this to us before.”

“Who sent it?”

Baran ignored them. He kept his eyes on Nael.

“I don’t know what intent lies behind it. A crow handed it to me, nothing more.”

“…”

Nael looked back at the letter.

Its contents were only a single line.

[Follow Nael.]

But the handwriting was unmistakable.

She could never forget it.

To a girl who had once been called a beast, unfit even to read or write, he had taught her letters.

Sometimes, he even wrote poetry in that same hand.

That sort of thing was never meant for “a beast.”

—What do you think about when the wind blows, Nael?

She had answered: I think I smell prey.

—Haha. That’s fair. But this time, don’t use your nose—use your ears.

He had tapped her twitching ears.

—You hear that? The grass is singing.

—Saaa… like that.

“…Ah.”

Like a vision broken in mid-dream, Nael exhaled.

She couldn’t say anything more.

Her chest ached—wide open and hollow.

It felt like the grass’s song had just brushed through it—soft and cold.

Clay.

Clutching the letter like his sleeve, Nael pressed it tightly to her chest.

(End of Chapter)

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