[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Outskirts]

"Are you really just wandering around aimlessly?" Puck questioned, her form restless as she hovered a short distance behind Grimm. The fairy's gaze kept drifting past him, down the path, then back again, as if expecting the road to contradict him. He, meanwhile, continued forward at an even pace, following it as though it had already told him where it would end.

"No," Grimm answered easily, without slowing or turning.

Puck blinked. "No?" she repeated, incredulous. She gestured vaguely behind them with one small hand. "But we've just been walking for the last five minutes. There's been no turns, no markers or any signs. Nothing that even looks like direction."

"We are not," Grimm said simply.

That alone would have ended the conversation for him, but Puck tilted her head instead, hovering in place for a moment before drifting forward again. She waited, expectant, eyes fixed on the back of his helm.

"You do not see it," Grimm continued at last, his voice unbothered by her scrutiny, "but I do." One gauntleted hand lifted briefly, fingers tapping against the side of his helmet—specifically where his eyes would be beneath the alloy. "My senses are naturally more potent than most. Distance, obstruction, concealment—these things are not limited to me." His hand lowered as he gestured ahead. "If we proceed straight, we will reach a clearing. Beyond that, there is a wall. A white wall. And spread across the land before it—many white structures."

Puck stared at him for a second too long. "You can actually see that?" she asked, genuine surprise creeping into her voice. "From here?" She folded her arms, her flight slowing. "Most people would need Vigormancy just to get a fraction of that range."

"Vigormancy?" Grimm echoed, the unfamiliar term catching his interest.

"A sub-branch of the Sanctorum school," Puck explained, her tone slipping into something more thoughtful despite herself. "It enhances perception—sight, sound, sometimes even intuition, depending on the caster." She paused, then frowned faintly. "I wonder if this is what Cobweb meant when she said I could provide you with… general information."

"Perhaps," Grimm replied. "Any information about this realm is of value to me."

Puck's lips curled into a small, fleeting smile. "Well then," she said lightly, "it's a good thing you have me, huh?" The smile faded almost immediately. She shifted back in the air, widening the distance between them. "Wait—no. You still threatened to eat Ma'krai. I really shouldn't be getting this comfortable." She hovered a few meters away now, wary once more.

Grimm did not respond aloud.

("Hm. At least she's wise, he noted internally. Despite appearances, she is not naïve. Her caution is appropriate.") His gaze remained forward, uninterested in reassurance. ("Still… my interest is waning. This place, this path—perhaps the next destination will offer something worthwhile.")

The path ended abruptly.

The sparse, lifeless trees thinned until there were none at all, and the ground beneath their feet opened into a wide plain. At first glance it appeared empty, just flat and unassuming, but that illusion shattered almost immediately. White structures dotted the land in every direction, porcelain-bright and unnatural on the dull earth. They varied wildly in shape and size: some broad and circular, others jagged and uneven; some small and squat, others towering high enough to cast long shadows across the plains.

They were scattered without pattern, as if dropped carelessly from the sky.

And in the distance, rising higher than all of them, stood the wall.

A massive porcelain barrier stretched upward, cutting the horizon cleanly in two. Beyond it lay what could only be civilization—yet above the wall, the sky seemed wrong. No clouds gathered there. Instead, they were parted, leaving an empty clearing that exposed the bleak gray sky beyond, as though the land had been peeled open.

"Whoa…" Puck murmured, slowly turning in place as she took it all in. "You were right." Her voice dropped, reverent despite herself. "All of it."

"Are you familiar with this place?" Grimm asked, his attention fixed on the wall.

Puck tapped her chin, brow furrowing. "These porcelain structures…" she said slowly. "I remember hearing about a country like this. Near one of the entrances to the Great Forest." She hesitated. "I think it was called China Country?"

"I see," Grimm murmured. His gaze turned as he studied the far distance. "Hm. It appears a battle is taking place." A pause. "With some manner of beast." Another pause, longer this time. "And… dolls?"

"Huh?" Puck squinted in the direction he was looking, leaning forward midair. "What? I don't see anything." She blinked, then frowned. "Are you really seeing something?"

"I am," Grimm answered plainly.

Puck hovered there, baffled. "Then… are you heading over there?" she asked cautiously. "I mean—this place doesn't look like it'll give us anything useful about Albion. Or the Queen."

"It matters little," Grimm replied, already stepping forward. "It looks interesting."

Puck arched a brow at that, watching him move toward the porcelain plains, uncertainty alight across her face as she followed.

"Merely keep up," Grimm stated.

Puck slowed midair, blinking at him. "Keep up?" she repeated, baffled, hovering in place as she studied his back. "You say that like I'm already lagging behind somehow."

Before she could add anything else, Grimm's feet lifted cleanly from the ground. It was not a leap; there was no bend of the knees or any preparation—just a smooth rise, as though gravity had decided to let go of him. He ascended higher and higher.

Puck's form stuttered. "Whoa…" She tilted her head, eyes tracking him upward. "You can fly too?" There was genuine interest there now, curiosity edging out her earlier wariness. "That didn't feel like magic just now."

"Hm," Grimm grunted in response.

And then he vanished.

The air where he had been folded inward with a sudden concussive crack. A burst of force tore outward, rippling through the sky in a visible shockwave. Puck was hurled backward, spinning wildly.

"Wah!" she yelped, her flying form flaring as she fought to stabilize herself, tumbling once, twice, before finally regaining control. She hovered there, panting. "A warning would've been really nice!"

Grimm was already gone.

He reappeared high above the land in a burst of speed, the air screaming briefly in protest before falling silent again. He hovered there, motionless now, arms folding across his chest as his gaze dropped downward.

Below him sprawled what could only be a battlefield.

The towering porcelain walls encircling a city was breached in multiple places—wide, uneven openings punched clean through the pristine white surface. Strangely, the structure itself had not collapsed. The damage looked almost surgical, as though the wall refused to fail entirely no matter how much was torn from it.

Grimm's attention drifted past the destruction and settled fully on the chaos below.

Porcelain figures—small, sentient dolls no larger than infants—ran screaming across the plains. Some wore fitted porcelain armor, their tiny limbs encased in glossy plates, weapons clutched in trembling hands: spears, swords, crude but seemingly functional. They charged forward in waves, voices shrill with fear and an alike.

They were fighting beasts many times their size.

"Deseruit Beasts," Grimm murmured, recognition clicking into place as he watched. "That was the name."

The monsters were grotesque in their variety. Overgrown wolves with serpents for tails lunged through the ranks, jaws snapping violently. Three-headed lions clad in bone-like armor roared as porcelain bodies shattered beneath their paws. Massive serpents, blazing red from scale to fang, coiled and struck with surprising speed. The numerous beasts shapes varied.

The dolls broke upon them like glass.

Still, some of the porcelain people leapt onto the creatures, stabbing wildly, screaming as they clung to fur, scales and bone—anything they could grab. Shards flew. Limbs cracked. Yet they did not stop.

("Sentient dolls,") Grimm noted internally. ("No detectable mana or any artificial force. They're natural.")

"H–hey!"

Puck's voice cut in sharply as she zipped up beside him, breathless and clearly annoyed. "You can't just fly off like that!" She crossed her arms, hovering at his side. "You realize most people don't move like that, right?"

"You caught up," Grimm replied evenly. "So it matters little."

She shot him a glare—but it faded quickly as the sounds below reached her. Metal clashing, shrill cries, the thunderous impact of beasts moving through porcelain ranks. Her eyes widened as she looked down.

"Whoa…" she whispered. "It's like a small war."

"Seems so," Grimm murmured, gaze never leaving the battlefield.

It was certainly an interesting sight.

("Hm, how foolish. I see now, no commanders for the dolls, they're merely charging in blindly,") Grimm could not help but note. There was no strategy at all; the porcelain figures seemed to have the number advantage, but that was all. ("They're strong enough to injure the beast but fragile all the same. Winning isn't an option for them; it would have been wiser to fortify defenses and retreat. Pride at work, perhaps.")

It almost hurt to look at—a battle with no ounce of strategy. Not all wars could be won with just numbers, after all. It took a lot more than just that.

Grimm found his interest waning.

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