Scorin carried me over the battlefield while the smoke still climbed.

Wind tore past my ears. Smoke rose in thick columns below like the world was still exhaling the fight.

I could see demons scattered in broken formations—some limping, some dragging friends, some standing guard with that hollow stare that only comes after you survive something you shouldn't.

And then I saw them.

Riku. Draxx. Syrin. Krazia.

They were sitting in a tight circle like wolves—backs turned outward, watching each other's angles, refusing to relax even though the worst of the screaming had faded.

Riku spotted us first.

He waved hard—like he was trying to yank us out of the sky with his arm.

I tapped Scorin's shoulder.

"Scorin," I said, voice rough. "Let's check on them."

He didn't argue. He angled down and descended.

Scorin didn't slow until he decided the ground was allowed to catch him.

The battlefield bent around him like he had already decided what mattered—and what didn't. The moment my feet hit the ground, I ran. Not because I was strong. Because my body hadn't gotten the memo that I was empty yet. I reached the circle and spread Umbral Grace over them like a field wrap. It wasn't much—my reserves were low—so it didn't shine like a miracle.

It just settled.

Fsssshh…

A thin layer of relief. Enough to dull pain. Riku's shoulders dropped first. That scared me more than the blood.

Enough to keep their bodies from screaming louder than they already were. Enough to buy minutes. Riku's shoulders sagged on the exhale.

Then he looked at me like he couldn't decide whether to scold me or hug me.

"So," he said carefully, "you win your battle?"

I nodded, swallowing.

"Yeah… but we bumped into some people… and a dragon, so it was a long time running away and—"

I didn't finish. Riku stepped in and hugged me. But something inside me didn't break this time.

It held.

Barely—but it held.

Tight.

Solid.

Like he was proving to himself I wasn't a hallucination. Only then did I realize I was shaking.

Riku felt it.

His voice went low.

"You must've been scared," he murmured. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

My throat tightened so hard it hurt.

Draxx walked up and put a hand on my back.

He didn't tease. He didn't smirk. His voice came out serious for the first time—like he meant every word and didn't care who heard it.

"Yeah… you look like hell."

"Seeing you alive," he said quietly, "makes all of this worth it."

Syrin and Krazia stepped in close enough to catch the warm, embarrassing talk. I didn't respond. Because all the courage I'd been running on…

just went out the window. And in the corner of my vision, I felt Scorin watching. Not with judgment. With that strange stillness he had when he was thinking too hard.

His dragon pupils flickered for a heartbeat—just once—like a reflex he didn't bother hiding. His gaze slid to the air beside my face. To the Ledger only special eyes could see.

[DEMONETIZATION: 34%]

He held it for half a second.

Then he looked away like he'd decided not to speak it out loud. Like if he said it out loud… it would become real. Like he was filing it away. A shadow passed overhead.

Fff—

Something landed on my shoulder—light talons, soft feathers.

A crow.

Black as ink. Too calm to be normal. It tilted its head, and its eyes weren't bird eyes.

They were… aware.

A clean prompt hovered in my vision:

[MESSAGE RELAY — KING MALPHAS]

Proceed?

"…Right now?" I muttered, wiping my face with my sleeve. "Fine. Whatever. Accept."

The crow's beak opened.

And my father's voice filled the air like it owned the world.

"My children," it said smoothly, "it seems you all are alive."

Riku went stiff immediately, like his body remembered rank before pain. Draxx's jaw tightened. Syrin straightened. Krazia's eyes sharpened. The crow turned its head politely toward Syrin and Krazia and bowed.

"Ladies," Malphas added, voice pleasantly dangerous, "it's always a pleasure."

Then the crow turned back to me.

"My darling daughter," Malphas said, warmth in the words that only made it worse, "please make haste back to the hospital. There is a problem only you can handle."

A beat.

"And this is an order."

I flinched and snapped back automatically.

"HEY—but I'm tired too!"

The crow didn't blink. It cut me off with my father's voice—sharper, final:

"Now."

Not a command.

A deadline.

Silence hit the circle.

Not normal silence. The kind that spreads when everyone realizes something bigger is happening. Concern shifted across their faces like a wave. Riku's brows pulled together. Draxx's hand tightened on his weapon.

Syrin's eyes darted like she was already calculating the worst-case. Krazia swallowed hard. I turned toward Scorin with nervous hands.

"…Please take me there," I said. "Now."

He looked across them.

And that's when I saw it. Not anger. Not exhaustion. Fear.

On all of their faces at the same time. My stomach sank—because I had never seen them look like that. Scorin didn't ask questions. He didn't argue.

He stepped in, lifted me without warning—

And launched.

WHOOOM—!

He didn't look back.

Not at them.

Not at the battlefield.

Only forward.

The ground dropped away beneath us.

The battlefield shrank below.

And the hospital—whatever was waiting there—rushed closer.

CUTAWAY — BELZAGUS
Nocturne Mercy Ward (Before Sophia arrives)

Back home, it was getting worse.

"Ma… Madina…"

"I'm right here, Bel."

Madina grabbed my hand tight—like she needed me to feel it. Like she needed me to know she hadn't gone anywhere.

And the truth was…

she really hadn't. All this time, she'd only left to use the restroom, clean up, and make me food. Even though I couldn't eat it. Even though my stomach turned at the smell. I could still talk a bit. Barely. It hurt.

"I wanna rip these fucking horns off—!"

The heat wasn't normal anymore. It wasn't pain. It was something trying to come out. I grabbed one of my horns—burning hot—and yanked like I could tear the pain away with brute force. Madina's hands shot up and locked around my wrist.

"Stop!" she yelled. "Don't do that!"

She looked at me like she'd rather get stabbed than watch me hurt myself.

"I love your horns."

I froze.

"…Wait. Did I hear that right?"

This had to be the sickness making me hallucinate. Madina didn't blink. She grabbed a warm, wet rag, wrung it out, and wiped the horn where my fingers had been clawing.

"Don't do that ever again," she said, voice trembling. "Your horns are precious to me."

My throat tightened. Madina sniffed and tried to smile through it.

"Remember when we first met?" she asked softly. "Malphas brought me here when I was just a small child."

A shaky laugh escaped her.

"And the first thing you said was that my tail was your favorite thing about me."

"…Madina," I rasped, forcing it out, "I'm not going to die."

A cough ripped through me.

KHH—COUGH—!

Madina flinched like it hurt her.

"I don't want to hear you sound like you're in pain," she whispered.

"It's going to be fine," I tried again, voice rough.

Thump.

Thump.

I tightened flow, cleaned a couple beats, and added light SFX without changing your intent: Her tail hit the chair she was sitting on—fast, nervous, betraying her. Then a shadow crossed the window.

Tap. Tap.

A crow struck the glass—then slipped in like it owned the room. I squinted at it through the fever blur.

"…What does this old bastard want now?" I muttered. "Is he going to put me out of my misery?"

Madina punched me in the stomach with both fists.

THUD—THUD!

"Bel!"

"It's a joke," I wheezed. "Relax…"

The crow's beak opened. And Malphas's voice filled the room.

"My son… and my future daughter-in-law."

Madina squealed like a bride, cheeks flushing.

"O-oh! Father—!"

"OH, FATHER MY ASS," I snapped at the bird, blushing so hard it made me mad. "HURRY IT UP ALREADY?!"

The crow didn't blink.

"You put on a marvelous display," Malphas continued. "I saw the whole thing."

"…You did?" I coughed—then immediately regretted reacting. "I mean—of course you did. Why did I even get shocked?"

I reached into my Abyss Pocket and tossed the Adventurer ID card across the room.

Clack—

It hit the crow's chest and slid down like an offering. Madina stared at me, confused. I jerked my chin.

"Watch."

The crow's talons gripped it.

"I will be confiscating Hero Ragalia's Adventurer ID," Malphas said calmly. "To me, it will be useful as a tool."

Madina blinked. "How did you know…?"

I groaned.

"Because I know that old bastard like the back of my hand."

Madina still looked lost.

"I'll tell you later," I muttered.

The crow continued. "Since you are feeling unwell, your sister will be coming to see you shortly—when she is able. She must rest. She had to deal with something… you could not."

I snorted.

"Yeah, no shit," I rasped. "She's not built like an actual demon, dumbass. She went anyway because she's not gonna stand back and watch her brothers fight alone—"

Madina hit my stomach again.

THUD!

"BEL. LET THE BIRD FINISH!"

"Fine—fine!"

The crow paused like it was amused.

"…Thank you, Madina."

Madina smiled proudly like she'd won.

"Now," Malphas continued, "when you have recovered, you and Madina are ordered to head to the Neutral Table to speak with Vaelrick and Scorin together."

My eyes narrowed. The crow's voice sharpened.

"Vaelrick already knows what he will say. And you, my son… you have no say in any of this."

I opened my mouth—

"You didn't follow my orders," Malphas continued. "You don't listen. You even have a foul mouth…"

I gagged dramatically. Madina punched me.

THUD!

Then Malphas laughed—pleased.

"You make me so proud of you," he said warmly. "Looking at you makes me think of my younger self."

I made another choking sound like I was going to throw up. Madina hit me again.

THUD!

The crow turned to the window.

"Now rest," Malphas finished. "We will speak later."

A beat.

"Farewell."

The crow slipped back into the night. Madina stayed holding my hand. Her grip tightened like she was afraid I'd slip away if she loosened it.

"I will be confiscating Hero Ragalia's Adventurer ID," Malphas said calmly. "To me, it will be useful as a tool."

Madina blinked.

"How did you know…?"

I groaned.

"Because I know that old bastard like the back of my hand."

Madina still looked lost.

"I'll tell you later," I muttered.

The crow continued.

"Since you are feeling unwell, your sister will be coming to see you shortly—when she is able. She must rest. She had to deal with something… you could not."

I snorted.

"Yeah, no shit," I rasped. "She's not built like an actual demon, dumbass. She went anyway because she's not gonna stand back and watch her brothers fight alone—"

Madina hit my stomach again.

THUD!

"BEL. LET THE BIRD FINISH!"

"Fine—fine!"

The crow paused like it was amused.

"…Thank you, Madina."

Madina smiled proudly like she'd won.

"Now," Malphas continued, "when you have recovered, you and Madina are ordered to head to the Neutral Table to speak with Vaelrick and Scorin together."

My eyes narrowed.

The crow's voice sharpened.

"Vaelrick already knows what he will say. And you, my son… you have no say in any of this."

I opened my mouth—

"You didn't follow my orders," Malphas continued. "You don't listen. You even have a foul mouth…"

I gagged dramatically.

Madina punched me.

THUD!

Then Malphas laughed—pleased.

"You make me so proud of you," he said warmly. "Looking at you makes me think of my younger self."

I made another choking sound like I was going to throw up.

Madina hit me again.

THUD!

The crow turned to the window.

"Now rest," Malphas finished. "We will speak later."

A beat.

"Farewell."

The crow slipped back into the night. Madina stayed holding my hand. Her grip tightened like she was afraid I'd slip away if she loosened it.

She swallowed, her voice small now—no bride squeal left.

"…A week," she whispered.

Then she leaned closer, her forehead almost touching mine.

"You just have to last a week, okay?"

"I… I know."

I pushed Madina back into her seat like she was a worried wife hovering too close.

Then—

"GAH—!"

Pain ripped through my skull like something was twisting my horns from the inside.

My breath hitched.

My right eye flooded into pure darkness—ink swallowing the white, swallowing the pupil—until it looked like a hole punched through my face.

Madina froze.

"Bel…?"

But something else moved first. My body leaned forward before I could stop it. It pulled Madina closer with a gentleness that didn't belong to me. A hand cupped her cheek like she was something fragile. And a voice came out of my mouth that wasn't mine.

"Soon," it murmured, warm as a promise, "you won't have to deal with this weak side, my dear…"

Madina didn't scream. She didn't run. She bit the hand holding her cheek. Hard.

CRUNCH—!

Pain snapped me—the darkness in my eye flickered—and my body sagged. Sleep took me like a curse. The last thing I heard was Madina's voice, soft and shaking.

"Sleep well, Bel."

BACK TO: NOCTURNE MERCY WARD — ENTRANCE

Scorin landed and ran. Not walked—ran. Still carrying me. The doors to the ward slammed open—

BANG—!

Corridors flashed past in a blur of black basalt and ward-glass. Nurses and orderlies turned, startled—then immediately stepped aside like the air around Scorin warned them to.

"Scorin—wait—" I tried to speak, but he moved too fast, too sharp, scanning everything like he didn't trust the building itself.

I forced my hand up and pointed down the hall.

"My office—!"

He turned without hesitation. The doors burst open.

BOOM—!

And there she was. My mother.

Lysandra.

Sitting in my office chair like she owned the place. One leg crossed. Aetherplum in hand. Calm enough to make my skin crawl. Scorin ran in with me still in his arms. I immediately covered my face with both hands. Mom took a slow sip.

"Getting close, are we?"

I exploded. I started kicking in Scorin's arms, pushing his face away with both hands.

"That's ENOUGH! Let me go already!"

"Oh—right," Scorin muttered, stiff and too polite for the situation.

He set me down like I was a diamond artifact. Careful. Too careful. I cleared my throat, bowed, and tried to reset my dignity.

"Ahem… Mother, how are—"

"Enough with the theatrics."

Her tone didn't rise. It didn't need to.

"You put yourself in harm's way."

I straightened slowly.

"You do not possess offensive magic," she continued calmly. "You are not physically strong as a standard female demon."

That one stung.

"Next time," she finished, "tread with more caution."

A pause.

"Or learn to use a weapon."

My brain sparked.

"…Hmmm."

"I might have an idea for that!"

Mom's gaze sharpened.

Scorin looked at me like he wasn't sure if that was good news or another problem.

And then—

the air shifted.

A presence entered behind Scorin. Heavy. Controlled. Amused.

"Really?" my father's voice came from the doorway.

"Now do tell me this idea you have, my dear daughter."

I stiffened so hard it hurt. Scorin didn't turn right away. But his posture changed like the room had become a battlefield again. Malphas stepped fully into the office.

 

Smiling.

[LOCAL TIME: 1:35 PM]

Ragalia's cloak was torn to ribbons.

One arm hung wrong.

Blood dried and cracked on his lips every time he breathed.

The stolen blessings in his veins didn't feel like power anymore.

They felt like poison.

He limped through the dark, teeth clenched, eyes still burning with a hatred that refused to die.

Then—

the air shifted.

Not demonic.

Not holy.

Something older.

Something that didn't belong to either side.

A pressure settled behind his eyes—like a hand forcing his attention upward.

And a prompt opened in front of him.

Clean.

Radiant.

Merciless.

Not the Adventurer system.

Not a relic.

A decree.

[QUEST RECEIVED — THE GODDESS HAS RETURNED]
[OBJECTIVE: TRAIN FOR 2 YEARS]
[OBJECTIVE: CONQUER THE BEAST KINGDOM]
[FAILURE: UNACCEPTABLE]

Ragalia froze.

His breath came out ragged.

"…The Goddess," he whispered.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to laugh. Like he wanted to cry. Then his mouth curled anyway. A sharp, ugly smile.

"Two years?" he rasped.

He wiped blood from his chin with his sleeve and stared at the distant gates ahead—massive, wild, alive.

"The Beast Kingdom…"

His fingers tightened.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll become something they can't stop."

And he stepped forward into the wilds—as if the world had just handed him permission… to become something far worse than a hero. And far away…

…something else had already started moving.