‘What they’re doing,’ Ignes had said to Dunnford, ‘has something to do with the skystorm.’

The rain was picking up its pace. Dunnford had with him a raincoat he borrowed from the sanctum, but he didn’t bother wearing it. With his Special Magic around, he couldn’t even feel the rain hitting his skin. The only way he could determine how hard the rain was falling was the loudness when those water landed and the way those droplets obstructed his vision. Dunnford didn’t feel the cold, but that didn’t mean that the same held true for Brig and her men who were following him from behind.

Dunnford offered the raincoat to Brig, but she appeared offended by it if anything. ‘Do I look like I need your pity?’ her expressions seemed to say.

In all honesty, they all looked like they needed his pity. They still couldn’t shake off the fire wine and they had followed Dunnford with a drunk and wobbly gait, occasionally leaning on a wall for support. Some men had their hand on their mouth, holding back from throwing out the content of their stomach.

Since they had finally found themselves a reason to pick themselves back up, Dunnford had thought that he shouldn’t let that fire die and immediately resumed their activities. They had drowned themselves in alcohol and was unfit for a proper job, so he had thought that a normal reconnaissance around Lune should suffice for starters. But even this simple job, they were failing. I should have brought them back to the sanctum and do some spars instead.

It was too soon for them to immediately tackle the sanctum’s problems.

Brig looked back at her men. She drunk the most fire wine at the Drizzle, yet compared to the others, she was able to carry herself better. Her gait might have been wobbly; but, when she walked, she didn’t seem like she would trip and fall on her own. Her crimson eyes carefully stared at her men; after a brief glance at each of them, she pointed at the worst of them. ‘Give it ta him,’ she said.

Dunnford gave the man the raincoat; he accepted without hesitation. His movement as he reached for the raincoat was sluggish and his face was the most pale. Since the raincoat was indirectly an order from Brig, he wore it without feeling much guilt for the others who were also unwell.

‘Tanks,’ he said with a weak tone. Almost unheard in the rain.

I’m failing them, Dunnford thought. He should had known that they were all exerting themselves. They didn’t fail him, for despite their current condition, they still followed Dunnford. If anything, it was him who failed them. He was pushing them too far. This is a squad who had lost their respected leader, a squad recovering from their loss. Remember that.

The wind howled violently and Dunnford then realized that the sound of rain had gone louder.

The weather is only getting worse, he thought. This was the skystorm.

Dunnford had hoped that with a reconnaissance, at least hawk squad could tackle the sanctum’s problem by gaining intel on what the monster worshippers were doing. Ignes had told him that they were doing something in the midst of skystorm. Forget about that, we’ll get beaten by the weather instead of achieving anything.

He finally decided that sanctum was the place to go. Shelter themselves from the harsh weather, jog them up with spars, understand the hawk squad, and perhaps Dunnford could then check on Ray’s training. Just as Dunnford was about to change direction and lead them to the sanctum, one of the men ran into the alleyway.

The sight of him running toward the alleyway was unsettling for Dunnford. In the past, the street of Lune was a place where people suffered; the alleyway was a place where people died. Dunnford could wield the sword, he would be fine stepping into the alleyway, but he still felt uncomfortable about it. It was hard to get rid of his caution when, as a child, he was warned to never go into the alleyway by everyone.

Dunnford chased the man. To which, he saw him with his hand on the wall, throwing up to the ground. When the others saw this, they followed his stead and also got rid of the fire wine in their system. Brig was an exception to this.

Dunnford looked at the sky as he waited. The skies were dark, the clouds seemed to tremble more as the skystorm approached even nearer.

‘Oi, Dunn-y?’ Brig called him. The way Drizzle had called him seemed to be stuck with her. ‘Is at real?’

She pointed deeper inside the alleyway. The rain partially obstructed Dunnford’s vision, but what laid on the ground were unmistakably humans. People wearing black raincoat with… Are those spears?

Hand on the hilt of his sword, Dunnford approached the bodies lying on the ground. From the way Brig shifted beside him, he could tell that she too was alert and was following Dunnford. Despite the unease he always felt about Lune’s alleyway, Dunnford treaded deeper inside.

7 bodies, he counted. When he was close enough, Dunnford gave each of them a poke with his boot. Though they were unconscious, they were all still breathing and alive. Each of them had tattoos inscribed on their faces. They looked ominous, but they didn’t give the same feel as Extinct Formulae Magic. Dunnford couldn’t place his finger on it, but Extinct Formulae Magic has a different pattern. He might be mistaken though.

Monster worshippers, he determined, all suffered a blow to either the temple or the jaw. The way they were struck unconscious reminded Dunnford of Ignes. And more so of… Did Freya do this? he asked himself. He could somehow imagine her ignoring his warning about the alleyway, meeting them by chance, and striking all of them down.

‘Huh,’ beside him, Brig remarked. ‘We’re close to them, aren’t we?’

The monster worshipper is doing something during the storm and inside the alleyway, Dunnford thought. As much tempted as he was to chase over the matter, he knew that the hawk squad wasn’t able to fight in its current state. The best move for now was to carry the 7 unconscious monster worshippers back to the sanctum and let someone interrogate them. Then Dunnford could return on his own here to investigate.

‘Yes,’ Dunnford replied to Brig. ‘But we’re not going after them. We’re—’

Just as Dunnford was about to give the men orders, he found that the men were no longer where they were. They disappeared. What in the world?

‘Where did they go?’ Dunnford asked. Was he ambushed? Were there monster worshippers lurking somewhere, waiting to strike Dunnford and Brig next?

Brig gave him a confused look, as if questioning Dunnford’s worry.

‘Right,’ she said, ‘yer new. Forgot.’

Wha—? ‘What do you mean?’ Dunnford couldn’t get a handle of the situation.

‘They saw the monster worshippers.’ She pointed at the 7 unconscious men.

‘So?’

‘They know they’re close. So they ran on their own, each searchin’ for the monster worshippers.’

‘No one gave them the order to!’ They’re not in the shape to fight!

Lightly, she said, ‘Start gettin’ used ta it.’ This was their normal.

Kadas, this isn’t the way to run a squad…

***

Kokuri left her pathing to pure chance.

Navigating through the alleyway of Lune was a pain. Nothing about it could be used to indicate where she was and the path twisted and curved with a confusing pattern. She couldn’t tell if some paths looked alike or if she had passed it but had forgotten. She wasn’t one to look at details; and wasn’t one who could remember everything.

It was a cloudy sky when she had entered the alleyway; now the clouds were weeping.

Chance was on her side, for Kokuri then found herself stepping into an open space inside the alleyway. There, she spotted 3 people with a black raincoat. One was the leader of the monster worshippers in Lune. The other was a man with a unique spear; it had a tube in its shaft. The last was lying on the ground, his eyes bulged wide toward the sky and a knife stuck in his chest. He was dead.

Dying from a stab… Kokuri thought. How easy…

The leader was writing on the ground with the dead man’s blood. It was raining, but the blood he inscribed with his finger remained without being washed away by the water. Kokuri might look like she was wondering why, but she was instead admiring the color. She thought the crimson beautiful.

Noticing her presence, the leader looked up. ‘You’re here!’ he said with a laugh. ‘I feel safer already!’

Kokuri looked at her surroundings, finding no one else. ‘Just us?’ she asked.

‘I had men searching for a sacrifice.’ He looked at the monster worshipper’s dead body, noticed the corpse’s ghastly expression, and closed his eyes with his bloodied hand. ‘Shame I had to kill him, but this is all for the Monster Queen. The men probably got done by the Zenist in their search.’ He shrugged. ‘Yes, just us.’ He continued writing the ground with blood.

This thin man had introduced herself to Kokuri before, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember the leader’s name. If he didn’t have himself a metal lip piercing, then Kokuri would have failed to identify the man.

‘Did anything interesting happen to you today?’ he asked her. The sound of rain seemed to make way for his voice, as if it had authority. Little did the rain know that this was the very same man who cowered on the ground when the sword saint was after his him.

‘Define interesting.’

‘Perhaps you killed Zenists today? That would be interesting for you, yes?’

Nothing of the sort happened. She simply strolled around Lune, hoping that she might be spotted by the Zenist and then spark chaos. But, before she was able to paint the street with crimson, she… she… What happened again? Why did she stop herself? Something had stopped her. No, someone had stopped her. Who?

I bumped someone. Who? She could not remember. Must be a mage. If not, I would have killed the person.

She looked down, pulled at her kimono to see her own name embroidered inside the clothing. A mage had made for her this purple kimono. A… friend…

‘Perhaps not all your days are bloody,’ he remarked at her silence. ‘I am almost done.’

The wind howled through the alleyway. Its howl, in Kokuri’s ears, sounded like it wanted death.

Looking at the alleyway, Kokuri noticed a figure. She could hardly see because the rain obstructed her vision, but she knew that a man stood there. As the figure walked closer, other figures stood behind him. Each wore a white uniform, carrying a sword beside their waist. The figure beside him was different, for he carried with him a barrel full of swords.

Deep inside, she hoped for a sword saint. A stronger sword saint than the one she had killed.

This man at the very front, however, had gray hair and a whale emblem on his shoulder. His face was without expression. Features she knew of.

‘You again…’ Kokuri muttered.