"So where's your destination?" Loki asks. He's now seated next to Raiden, holding a box of cookies. He pops one in his mouth and looks at Raiden. He offered him some a while ago, but Raiden only thanked him. He even attempted to offer some to Raia, but the girl's icy stare scared him away.

"Marietta," Raiden answers, leaning back in his seat.

"Perfect!" Loki beams, a glint in his eyes. "That's where I'm headed as well. So I guess we'll be leaving this train together, eh?"

Raiden blinks at him. "Oh, I see. Visiting someone, I guess?"

"Hmm? Yeah, yeah. I'm going to see a close friend of mine." Loki then soon starts talking about trivial matters to Raiden.

While chatting with Loki, Raiden catches a glimpse of Raia in his peripheral vision. With the newspaper still in front of her face, her sagacious gaze is fixed on the stranger sitting next to him.

Returning his attention to Loki, Raiden keeps his guard up. Raia is right; he can't just trust anyone. But just because he's friendly with him doesn't mean he trusts him. After all, demons, their enemies, resemble humans.

After an hour and a half, they arrived in Marietta, a small town in Gerland, a country in Mikael. The town is located on the northern bank of the Haven River, which is one of the major Mikaelean rivers.

Raiden takes in his surroundings as they walk down the cobbled street lined with half-timbered houses and shops wreathed in leafy vines. A delicate fruity aroma pervades the air, highlighting the town's pride.

Marietta could be a beautiful town if it weren't for its gloomy atmosphere. Silence and misery ring throughout the area, and the townspeople walk with drooping shoulders, their faces a mirror of their grieving heart.

Someone must have died again, Raiden thinks as he turns away from the depressing scene, a hand of sorrow clutching his chest. His heart yearns to be with them in their grief, but it will be futile.

What he needs to do is find the source.

When he looks at Raia, he is not surprised by her impassive expression. But he is certain that she, like him, must have already sensed the uneasy atmosphere around them.

Cyrus stated that people are committing suicide in this town, but why? Raiden ponders, his brow furrowed. Maybe it's Black Art. So a Cimmerian is present.

He clenches his hands into fists.

"Ah," Loki exclaims from behind. "The wines are world-class. I don't regret coming here."

Raiden's jaw drops as he looks over his shoulder at Loki. The man is holding two bottles of wine, one of which is already half empty. He didn't even notice him buying something from a store. Perhaps Raiden is too preoccupied with the town's gloomy mood.

"You sure look pleased," Raiden observes.

Loki raises a brow at him. "I'm enraptured by this town. Anyways, would you like a taste? Believe me, you'll love it."

Raiden blinks twice, amused by his vivacity. He doesn't seem to be affected by the gloomy atmosphere around them, or he may be unaware of the town's current state. But then Raiden remembers that the man is visiting a close friend, so he must know something about the situation.

This man is just bizarre.

"Somehow, the smell of this town compels me to kill someone," Raia, who is walking ahead of them, says. Her mouth shows a trace of an ominous smile.

"What?" Raiden blurts, then forms a small circle in his mouth when he realizes she's referring to her drunken mentor. "Oh."

"Hey you," Loki says in a low voice, falling into a step beside Raiden. "Should we take this as a warning and flee? The atmosphere around her screams danger."

Raiden gives him a sidelong glance. "You don't need to ask such an obvious thing."

Raiden and Raia have rented two rooms in one of the town's cheap inns, while Loki has told them that he is going to one of the castles perched above the vineyard.

Raiden sighs as he lies on the hard bed, staring at the paintless ceiling. The two-hour journey did not tire him out, but the atmosphere of the place did. What is going on in such a lovely town? What kind of Black Arts can drive people to commit suicide? Raiden must put an end to the town's misery. They must restore the beauty that it was meant to have.

His expression hardens. "I'll save this town."

He then crawls out of bed, marches out of the room, and heads downstairs to meet the Outcasts who share the same roof as them, pretending to enjoy their drinks. His hollow footsteps match the beats of his pounding heart—the sound of an approaching savior and destroyer of darkness.

"Answer my call, Cypress," he whispers, touching the silver cross earring that hangs from his right ear. His once gentle golden eyes have now become a reflection of his heavy heart.

The earring emits a beam of light as it transforms into a broadsword with a thorny vine. And the people seated at the tables all turn their heads at him, a blank expression on their faces. Raiden grips his sword's hilt as he meets their stares.

To illuminate their distorted path, he must destroy them—the darkness that confines the once innocent people.

"May the Light be with you."

***

Meanwhile, Raia stands by the window in a room opposite Raiden's, watching the last of the sun's rays cosseting behind soft grey clouds. Outside, the narrow streets and houses are silhouetted against the beginning of a silver sky. The wind slipping through the window gets colder as the sky darkens, and the air of dread thickens with each passing second. Except for the muffled sobs of those in mourning, the area remains silent.

"This place is . . . sad," Raia says, staring at the sky.

"I must not feel."

"That's right, don't let emotions ruin your pretty face."

Raia is startled by the sudden and unwelcome memory that flashes through her mind. A memory from the orphanage. She digs her nails into her palms and closes her eyes, searching her mind for something else to remember.

"I'm back! Look at what I've got. World-class wines from Gerland's best winemaking town!" Simon exclaimed, a large box slung over his head.

Raia frowned. "World-class? Well, I can sell that for the most money."

Simon's forehead creased. "You won't touch your dad's precious babies, Raia, " he said, hugging the box securely against his chest.

Raia's eyes open just as the birds fly past her window. Their wings flap in uncanny ways as if a prelude to an oncoming peril.

Before another dreadful night descends on Marietta, the gloomy town needs some light from the hands of someone blessed. It needs salvation from them, Aragons, so they cannot be idle or distracted.

"Our objective is to eliminate evils."

Raia's eyes darken, and she clutches her necklace. "Eliminate evils and save this winemaking town for master."