[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom Outskirts]

[Virelheim Mountain Village]

Exiting the village had been quick, yet the silence that followed was thick.

The wind pressed softly against their backs, even as they left the village's boundary, the faint scent of death and the frostbitten earth lingered.

For a long time, none of them spoke. It was not the comfortable silence nor the thoughtful kind—it was hollow, uncomfortable almost. When they finally crested a ridge overlooking the village, Mikoto turned. From that height, the scattered rooftops looked like broken bones just hanging out.

He could fix it—every broken wall, every collapsed building, everything in ruin. His magic was precise enough, his control meticulous enough. A few minutes, maybe less, and the village could be made whole again.

But his expression didn't soften at the thought.

He knew the truth.

They wouldn't want his help. Not from him. Not after everything that had happened, not from another unknown.

He exhaled softly, the breath still visible despite the distance from the village. "They've had enough unknowns for one day," he muttered to himself, almost absently, before tearing his gaze away from the distant settlement.

Gretel sat on a slab of stone nearby, her figure small and stiff, her hands folded loosely in her lap. Her eyes were fixed on the ground but seemed to look through it, her focus distant, scattered somewhere far beyond.

Her hair caught faintly in the wind, strands brushing against her face. The slump of her shoulders told more than any words could.

("Suppose she's not that much older than me,") Mikoto thought, his red eyes softening faintly. ("This must be hitting her harder than she lets on.")

He turned slightly to Shuten-dōji, who stood with her arms loosely crossed.

"What are you planning on doing from here on out?" he asked.

Shuten hummed, tilting her head toward the bleak horizon. "Hm, well, usually I'd just travel," she said lightly, the faintest grin playing at the corner of her lips. "See more of this decrepit little world of ours, taste its wine, its air, its despair." Her grin widened slightly as her eyes turned toward him. "But so far, you're the most interesting thing I've stumbled across."

Mikoto gave her a sidelong glance. "Tch," he exhaled, dry and unimpressed. "So you'll be sticking with me?"

"Of course," Shuten replied, shrugging as if it were obvious. "Besides, it helps that you're pleasant to look at."

"Fantastic," Mikoto muttered sarcastically. "And what exactly do you find so damn interesting about me?"

Shuten's grin softened into something faintly playful. "Well, aside from your strength and that fragile little face of yours…" She leaned in just slightly, her voice lowering. "It would be your eyes."

Mikoto blinked, his tone skeptical. "What? Because they're the same color as yours?"

"Of course not," Shuten scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Similarity isn't what makes something beautiful." She stepped closer, tilting her head as her gaze met his. "But yours—they're radiant. So full of suffering, so restrained… cruel, yet alive. There's a strange kind of light behind them. Like you've seen too much and decided to carry it all."

Mikoto frowned slightly, uncertain how to respond. Her words lingered longer than he expected. ("Are my eyes really that weird?") he thought, glancing toward the reflection in his gauntlet's polished alloy. The faint red met his gaze—distant and cold, yet humanane. ("Maybe it's just a byproduct of the 'phase'... what a pain.")

"I meant nothing bad by it, Yuki," Shuten added gently, still smiling. "But I am interested in your particular journey. You walk as if you know where you're going, even when you clearly don't."

"Hmph." Mikoto shook his head, turning away from her toward Gretel.

He stepped forward, when he stopped in front of Gretel, she finally looked up. Her eyes were cloudy, unfocused—like someone trying to see through fog that wouldn't lift.

"So," Mikoto said after a beat, "you just gonna sit there forever?"

Gretel blinked, a weary smile tugging faintly at her lips. "Oh, Mikoto… I'm not sure." Her voice was almost fragile. She reached into her satchel, her fingers trembling faintly as she pulled out the rectangular box that contained the artifact.

"I had a goal before coming to this village," she continued softly. "A petty, stupid one. That's why I stole this—to get information from Gerard." She gave a small, hollow laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "I put the village in danger for my own selfish goal," Gretel murmured. "I have no right seeing it through. So… I'm not sure what I want to do anymore." Her voice wavered slightly as she rubbed at her face, exhaustion clear in her movements. "Heh, I couldn't even give those three a proper goodbye."

Mikoto lowered himself into a crouch beside her, the motion slow. His armor creaked faintly as he came down to her level, their eyes meeting. Gretel blinked, surprised.

"Think about this logically," he said quietly, his tone stripped of pretense. "That pale woman—she probably said you were the reason she came here, right?"

Gretel nodded faintly, but Mikoto continued before she could speak.

"But she clearly had a vendetta against the place. No one trashes a village that thoroughly unless they already hate it. Whatever you did, it wasn't the cause—it was just the early spark she needed."

"But still—" Gretel began, but Mikoto's voice cut through her hesitation.

"But nothing," he said firmly. "Don't be an idiot, Gretel. Maybe what you did gave her an excuse to act sooner, but even without you stealing that artifact, she would've attacked eventually. Blaming yourself won't fix what's gone. The dead don't care who you blame." His tone softened slightly. "You killed no one. You fought to save them. That's the only thing that matters now."

Gretel stared at him, speechless. She hadn't expected kindness from him—least of all words like that. But his voice wasn't pitying or hollow. It was blunt, honest, and somehow that honesty made it hit harder.

For the first time since the attack, she felt that crushing guilt lessen—just a little.

"Thank you, Mikoto," she whispered, almost shyly. "Really."

Mikoto didn't change his expression as he stood,.

"I can't not take some of the blame," she went on softly, "but even so… thank you." Gretel rose to her feet beside him. A faint, tired smile tugged at her lips.

"Still, you look like shit," Mikoto muttered, almost casually. "Since I still owe you one, I'll stick around for a while. Don't get it twisted—it's just a debt I wanna repay."

Gretel gave a small, genuine laugh, the sound fragile but real. "For sure, Mikoto."

Shuten-dōji stretched lazily behind them, stepping closer with her usual grin. "Then it seems we'll be a small party," she said, her tone amused.

"Yeah, how great," Mikoto replied dryly, folding his arms. He glanced toward Gretel again. "Do you have any idea what you want to do now? You still plan on chasing that private goal of yours?"

Gretel hesitated, her gaze falling to the ground. "My goal…" she murmured. "I don't think I have any right to pursue it anymore. But I do know what I want to do." She looked up, her eyes steady for the first time since the incident. "And I'd be glad to welcome some help."

"Oh?" Shuten asked curiously. "And what would that be?"

"Well…" Gretel began slowly. "Gerard once told me that someone from his small revolution group had been kidnapped. I'm not sure where that will lead or what my end goal should be… but I want to do something. I don't want to be idle anymore. I'd like to save that person, at least."

"It's something, at least," Mikoto murmured, nodding faintly. "Fine. Lead the way."

"Sounds exciting," Shuten added with a smirk.

Gretel looked between them, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest. "I… thank you," she said softly. "For tagging along, and for staying by my side." Her voice trembled with sincerity. "I'm grateful. Truly."

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[Location: Realm of Iofiel]

The world glowed with radiance.

A boundless field of luminescent flora spread across an endless horizon — each petal glowing with hues of blue, gold, and violet. The air was filled with a tranquil warmth, though beneath that calm lay divinity.

At the center of that field stood a lone figure — wings of brilliance unfurled behind her. Her presence rippled across the realm, and the flowers bowed in reverence as if recognizing their creator.

Goddess Iofiel exhaled.

"Hmph. That boy…" she muttered, tone laced with irritation. "Still not any closer to ridding my realm of those dragon pests."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head slightly. The faintest twitch ran through her radiant wings — a graceful gesture of annoyance. The memory of a certain boy flickered in her mind.

"That insufferable brat…" she muttered, lips tightening. "The utter disrespect he showed me the first time I pulled him into my realm." Her eyes softened for a fleeting moment, then narrowed again as if offended by her own lapse. "Honestly," she continued, straightening up and folding her arms, "I should've shown him what it means to speak so casually to a Goddess. A single flick of my hand, and he would've learned his place."

A firm nod followed — as if to confirm her own righteousness to herself.

After a beat, her irritation gave way to thoughtfulness. She tapped her chin delicately, her eyes gleaming with consideration.

"Still… one Untainted might not be enough," she murmured. "There are a few others scattered within Álfheimr. Perhaps I should contact them as well. They should be grateful to serve under one such as I." Her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile — radiant and just a touch smug. She tilted her head, wings rustling faintly behind her as she admired her own reasoning. "Yes… that sounds reasonable. Entirely reasonable."

A soft voice broke the sanctity of her self-congratulation.

"You know, talking to yourself like that is often considered the first sign of madness."

The voice came unhurried and laced with familiarity.

Iofiel froze.

"E–Eep!"

Her wings flared reflexively, feathers scattering as she whipped around. Her gaze immediately found the disturbance — the faint displacement in her realm's perfect symmetry.

A small fox stood upon the luminous grass.

Its fur gleamed a burnished gold, each strand glowing. Nine luxurious tails fanned out behind it, swaying with grace. The creature's eyes — deep emerald and clever — met the Goddess's glare without even a flicker of fear.

Iofiel's jaw dropped. "T–Tamamo-no-Mae?! You— you again?!" Her wings twitched indignantly. "I told you not to barge into my realm anymore!"

The fox's voice came light. "Is that really any way to greet a friend, Iofiel?"

"'Friend'?!" Iofiel scoffed, her tone somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. "You're a menace, that's what you are. A boundary-violating, rule-breaking, nine-tailed pest! Do you have any idea what could happen if—"

Tamamo-no-Mae tilted her head innocently, padding closer. "If what? The Divine Principles smite you where you stand?" she said with a teasing smirk. "You worry too much. You've been in isolation so long you're starting to sound like one of those bookworms from the Heavenly Archive."

"That's not funny," Iofiel snapped, lowering her voice, though her wings fidgeted nervously. "You know full well they listen to everything. You can't just—"

"Relax," Tamamo interrupted, flicking her tails once. A ripple of gold light swept across the field, and Iofiel felt the subtle, resonant hum of protective wards mixing into her domain. "No one will hear us now," the fox said softly, her tone taking on a hint of seriousness. "Your personal realm is sealed. My wards are absolute."

Iofiel let out a long breath — equal parts relief and lingering annoyance. "You're insufferable."

"Perhaps," Tamamo said with a mischievous smile, "but at least I'm useful."

The Goddess crossed her arms, the faintest blush rising in her cheeks. "Useful isn't the word I'd use."

Tamamo giggled. "So… tell me, what's gotten you so agitated that you're having full conversations with yourself? I sensed a rather… bold act of interference recently." Her tails swayed lazily, yet her eyes were alight with curiosity. "Dragging a mortal to your personal realm, of all things? That's quite unlike the ever-dignified Iofiel. Are you that worried about Álfheimr?"

"Hmph!" Iofiel huffed, her cheeks puffing slightly in indignation. "Of course I am, Tamamo. It's my realm! I was chosen to govern it. You think I'll just stand idly by while chaos seeps through its roots?"

Tamamo chuckled softly. "Listen to yourself. You sound more like a human than a Goddess right now."

Iofiel blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Excuse me?"

"It's not an insult," Tamamo said quickly, lifting a paw as if to placate her. "It's… endearing, really. That temper, that concern — it's something mortal. Makes you easier to talk to."

The Goddess's lips parted, then closed again. She looked away, faintly flustered, wings folding in tighter. "…I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

"Take it however you like," Tamamo said, amused. Then her expression softened, eyes turning distant. "Still, I can't blame you. The calamities have begun, and the threads of fate are shifting faster than anyone anticipated. Three of the Untainted were already drawn into Álfheimr."

Her tone grew hushed — the playful edge fading.

Iofiel looked at her quietly. "That look tells me you think someone other than that Fate Walker interfered."

"It could be." Tamamo's tails flicked in agitation. "Be cautious, Iofiel. I can sense your intent — and while I don't disapprove, the Divine Principles will notice if you keep meddling. You don't want them opening the Moon again."

That last word — Moon — made the air feel thick. The Goddess's wings gave a faint tremor.

"I… remember," she murmured. A long silence stretched between them — a heavy silence. Then, as if to dispel it, Tamamo turned around. "You're leaving already? You just got here."

Tamamo looked back with a faint smile. "I am. I have a certain… knight I want to visit."

Iofiel arched a brow. "A knight?"

"Mhm." Tamamo's grin turned sly. "He's quite the heartbreaker — and an absolute menace when provoked. Violent, unpredictable, beautiful in his own odd way."

The Goddess's lips curved despite herself. "Sounds like your type."

"Maybe," Tamamo said with a wink. "See you around, Iofiel."

A ripple of golden light began to envelop her form. The fox's tails dissolved into shards of light, then her body followed, scattering across the field.

And then she was gone — leaving only silence.

Iofiel remained standing there for a long while, gazing at the space where her friend had been. The radiance of her realm felt suddenly emptier. Her hand rose, fingertips brushing a strand of her hair from her face as she whispered under her breath.

"…Always so foolish," she murmured softly. "And yet somehow… I envy you."

Her wings folded behind her as the flowers resumed their slow glow.

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