Dragon Slayer - Part 3

I felt like I was drowning.

I could feel myself falling—plunging deeper and deeper.

Darkness engulfed me so completely that I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or closed.

Except for the amber glow radiating from my left eye.

But even that faint light wasn't enough to pierce the oppressive blackness that surrounded me.

When I was a kid, I used to tag along with my dad on his salvage dives, exploring shipwrecks in the Gulf of New Mexico. That was where I first tried on a diving suit, the first time I laid eyes on the world beneath the Sunless Sea.

Honestly? There wasn't much to see.

The flares our team used barely made a dent in the darkness. Imagine this: a sandy seabed, a scattering of jagged rocks, and swarms of cockroaches scuttling for cover the moment light touched them. Now picture that whole scene washed in the crimson glow of flares tossed onto the ocean floor.

That was my first look beneath the sea.

And it was terrifying.

I was no stranger to the darkness of the Sunless World—but underwater? That darkness felt different. Hungrier. It didn't just exist—it devoured light.

And that same darkness was now wrapping itself around me.

Maybe this was what they called the afterlife. An endless abyss, where your soul just keeps sinking deeper and deeper, forever.

If that's true, then I finally understood why people feared death so much.

But then—my foot touched something.

Solid ground.

So, this was it. The bottom of the abyss.

"Ah, you're not supposed to be here," a bright, childlike voice chirped from behind me.

I spun around in shock.

Standing in the thick, suffocating dark was a boy—young, even younger than me and Rain. His short, mint-green hair stood out like a beacon, his figure glowing softly against the black void. It was him—the sole survivor from the Aurora.

He stood there with his back to me, head tilted playfully over his shoulder. That innocent smile on his face felt completely out of place in this suffocating darkness. His light green hair shimmered faintly, while his deep red hoodie soaked him in a hue that made it look as if his entire body was drenched in blood.

I'd seen him before—back when he was first brought aboard our ship—but I'd never had the chance to speak to him directly. Satoru. That was his name. I'd heard whispers, the crew passing around rumors in hushed voices.

They said Holland had found him in the wreckage of the Aurora, buried among a mountain of corpses.

Maybe that was why the captain had ordered him confined to his quarters.

"You're Satoru, right?" I think I said that—though I wasn't sure if my lips had actually moved.

"That's right," Satoru replied with a smile. "Come to think of it, we never really introduced ourselves properly, did we, Esther?"

I hesitated for a moment, wondering how he knew my name. This was, after all, the first time we'd ever spoken. But I pushed that thought aside for now. "Where is this place?"

Satoru glanced around at the endless black void. "What do you think?"

"I don't know. Somewhere between the bottom of the ocean and the depths of hell."

He chuckled. "Maybe it's a little bit of both."

I realized he hadn't actually answered my question. "Seriously, where are we?"

"You're asking the wrong question," Satoru replied, that same innocent smile lingering on his face. "It's not 'where,' but 'how.'"

I felt my patience thinning. "Enough with the riddles. Why the hell are we at the bottom of the sea?"

His grin only widened. "I could give you a straightforward answer, but I think the truth might just confuse you even more."

He turned to face me fully now.

"For starters, no, we're not dead. And no, this isn't the afterlife. You might see it as the bottom of the sea, but that's just your own perception. Everyone sees this place differently," he said, his voice light, as if we were discussing something trivial. "But as for why you're here… well, that's the real question, isn't it? One that I should be asking you. Because you're not supposed to be here."

"What's that supposed to mean? I didn't exactly choose to be here!"

"And that's why I said the question isn't where, but how," Satoru replied smoothly. His gaze locked onto mine—or rather, onto the amber glow of my left eye. "Though, I think I've got a pretty good idea."

There was something unsettling in how well he seemed to understand this place—like he wasn't just a lost kid, but something else. "You talk like you know exactly what this place is."

Satoru tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Everyone has their secrets, don't they? Even you."

"What are you talking about?" I snapped, though deep down, I had a sinking feeling I already knew. But there was no way he could know that—no way he could connect the amber glow in my eye to the truth about something.

But then, Satoru just laughed. "Come on, it's obvious. Even you, Esther, are sheltering a dangerous species—one that's been trying to wipe out humanity since long before you were born."

I froze.

"H-How do you know that?"

"That doesn't really matter," Satoru replied, his tone still laced with that infuriating calm. "What I really want to know is—why did you do it? Why risk your own life to save a deep-sea monster?"

I froze, my thoughts tangling in the void around me. It wasn't that I didn't want to answer—I just didn't know where to start.

"If you answer that for me," Satoru offered, stepping closer, "I'll answer one of your questions in return."

I tried to piece together my scattered thoughts.

"They're at war with us," I began slowly. "Because… something we created is killing them."

Satoru listened without interrupting, that faint smile still lingering on his face.

"I wanted to end the war," I continued. "I think… one of their kind asked me to save her. So I did."

There was a long, heavy silence.

And then he laughed.

I felt my fists clench. "What the hell's so funny!?"

"You just called it 'her,'" he chuckled, barely able to suppress his amusement. "Esther, you're way too kind. Someone—something—just asks for help, and you'll throw yourself into danger for it? Even if it's a monster?"

"If it means ending a war—if it means two species can stop killing each other—then yeah. Why not?"

"Because of your life," Satoru pointed out, his voice sharp but not unkind. "Don't you ever wonder if that… 'something' inside you is trying to take control?"

Of course I had. There'd been moments when I was almost certain it had already taken over—moments when my consciousness faded in the middle of some activity and then resumed in another.

But it had given me power, too. When I needed to pilot the submarine, when I tried to stop Sonia from launching that missile—without it, I would've failed.

I'd been terrified at first. Horrified by what it might mean. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing you could ask anyone for advice about.

But after everything we'd been through together… I was sure now. It wasn't my enemy. It wasn't trying to destroy me. It was my power. It was my ally.

"Look," I said, my voice steady, "if I can use this power to change the world—even if it costs me my life—that's a price I'm willing to pay."

Satoru's grin stretched wide. "You really are special, Esther. No wonder Rain Senpai is so interested in you."

"What?"

"But hey," Satoru breezed on, ignoring my outburst, "a deal's a deal. Since you answered my question, I'll answer yours."

He cleared his throat with a strange sort of formality.

"The truth is, it's actually a good thing you're here. Makes my plan way easier."

"What plan?" I asked, suspicion threading through my voice.

"Why, the plan to protect this world, of course," Satoru replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the universe.

"I'm completely lost here."

"Just hear me out," he said lightly. "But before I explain my plan, there's something I need to tell you about... this place."

He turned away from me, facing the infinite blackness.

"If that thing is your power," Satoru said, his back still turned, "then this is mine."

The darkness before him split open in a long, horizontal line.

And then—I was staring directly into a colossal pair of reptilian eyes.

They glowed with a pale green luminescence, huge orbs that seemed to swallow all the shadows around them, like twin floodlights in the void.

And that's when I realized—this wasn't just darkness.

It was part of something. Something alive.

The endless blackness that had surrounded me shifted and coiled, like a vast serpent stretching its body after centuries of slumber. The faint green light from its eyes illuminated scales the size of small boats, slick and glistening like sheets of volcanic glass.

A tremor crawled up my spine.

I understood now, in some small, human way, what it felt like to stand before the apex predator of an ecosystem.

No—that wasn't the right comparison.

It was worse.

I wasn't prey.

I was an insect—an ant—beneath the foot of something so massive, so ancient, that it wouldn't even notice if it crushed me. I wasn't worth the attention. I wasn't even significant enough to die by its will.

Just by looking into its eyes, I knew—my existence was a flicker, a speck of dust adrift in the infinite scale of time this thing had known.

And then Satoru's small hand shook me out of the paralyzing abyss of that thought.

"Ready to hear my plan?" he asked, smiling as brightly as ever.

…

Esther jolted awake, gasping for air as if she'd been pulled from deep water.

Her chest heaved violently as she clawed at the dried blood crusted around her left eye, the coppery scent still thick in the air. After rubbing at the brittle flakes, her vision cleared, revealing a narrow maintenance tunnel lined with tangled wires running along the walls.

Her last memory slammed back into her—the missile control room, the confrontation with Sonia.

Had someone rescued them afterward?

Her head pounded as she sat up, the chill of the metal grating seeping through her clothes.

Where are the others?

"Don't hurt him!" A desperate voice echoed through the corridor, followed by the sharp crack of gunfire. Esther whipped her head toward the sound—it came from where the tunnel bent sharply to the left, the faint glow of orange light bleeding out from around the corner.

Sonia. There was no mistaking that voice.

Esther sprang forward, her legs still heavy and unsteady, but urgency drove her onward. She was halfway down the tunnel when a man in military fatigues rounded the corner ahead. His eyes widened in shock, a shout in Saipanese tearing from his throat as he raised his rifle in pure reflex.

There was no time to react. Esther braced herself, heart pounding, expecting the violent impact of bullets—

—but before the man could squeeze the trigger, a pair of arms shot out from behind him, wrapping around his throat. The gunfire exploded wildly into the air as he spasmed against the grip, the muzzle jerking sideways—one shot screamed past Esther's shoulder, ricocheting off the concrete with a vicious clang.

Then the soldier crumpled. His limp body hit the ground, revealing the figure who had brought him down.

She was thin, her frame wiry beneath a ragged sailor's uniform—nothing more than an old, stained long-sleeve shirt and torn jeans. Shoulder-length blonde hair framed a pale, angular face, and a pair of cold, washed-out blue eyes flicked toward Esther as she crouched down to snatch the fallen rifle.

"On your feet. We need to get the hell out of here." Her voice was rough, commanding.

Before Esther could process what was happening, the woman had grabbed her by the arm and hauled her upright, already striding deeper into the maintenance tunnel, away from the glow of the corridor behind.

Esther hesitated, adrenaline surging. "Wait! My friends—they're in danger!"

The woman didn't even break stride. "You'll be dead in two seconds if you stand there."

It was then that Esther heard it—the thudding of boots, dozens of them, reverberating through the metal tunnel. The sharp rattle of weapons being readied, the harsh clinks of metal-on-metal.

Esther cursed under her breath, spun on her heel, and bolted into the darkness.

The tunnel twisted sharply to the right. Just as Esther rounded the bend, automatic gunfire erupted behind her. The roar of it was deafening in the confined space, bouncing off the metal walls in an ear-splitting barrage. She stumbled, momentarily deaf, but forced herself to keep moving, fighting off the disorientation.

They were gaining on her. She could hear the rapid approach of boots, the unmistakable scrape of gunmetal. Any second now, they'd round the corner, and she'd be a sitting duck in the narrow passageway.

Suddenly, a hand shot out from around the next bend—before she could react, it yanked her forward, hard enough that she slammed against the wall.

The blonde woman didn't even glance at her. She raised the rifle and opened fire, the muzzle flashes illuminating her grim expression.

"Keep going straight!" she barked between bursts of gunfire.

Esther followed the order without hesitation, her feet pounding against the cold metal floor as she sprinted down the maintenance tunnel. The only illumination came from the intermittent flashes of gunfire behind her, casting jagged shadows that danced along the walls. Ahead, a metal staircase spiraled upward toward a heavy steel door left ajar, offering an escape route—but Esther didn't take it. She pushed past it, trusting the mysterious woman, and plunged deeper into the darkness.

The crackle of gunfire still echoed faintly, but it was growing distant. The tunnel ahead bent sharply to the right. Esther skidded around the corner and flattened her back against the wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Then came the sound of hurried footsteps.

The blonde woman emerged from the darkness, sliding against the wall to join Esther. Both stood there, panting in the heavy silence, their shoulders brushing as they caught their breath.

"You're—" Esther began, but before she could finish, the woman was already moving.

"Not here," the woman cut in, voice low and clipped. "We need to get out of here first. Talk later."

"At least tell me your name," Esther insisted, pushing herself away from the wall.

The woman hesitated, as though weighing the risk of revealing even that much. Then, with a sharp exhale, she spoke. "Glenn."

And without another word, she strode back into the depths of the tunnel.

Esther cursed softly but followed, the darkness swallowing them both.

…

They walked in near silence for over ten minutes; the only sounds were their footsteps echoing in the cramped metal passage. The tunnel twisted and turned, leading them through narrow junctions and cramped corridors. It was a disorienting labyrinth, and Esther marveled at its sheer scale—an entire web of hidden maintenance routes sprawling for miles beneath the missile launch facility, its veins carrying power and data between the ancient machinery.

At certain points, broken cables hung loose, swaying like metal tendrils. In some stretches, the ceiling had partially collapsed, forcing them to squeeze through debris-choked gaps. Yet despite its decay, the complexity of the design was undeniable—a relic of the Old World, built by engineers who had once possessed knowledge far beyond what the Sunless World now knew.

Esther was so deep in thought that she didn't notice Glenn had stopped—until she collided directly with the woman's back.

"Ow!" Esther winced, quickly clamping her mouth shut when Glenn turned, shooting her a sharp, reproachful glare.

"Don't space out," Glenn muttered, then crouched down and pried up a wooden plank from the floor. Beneath it, a narrow tunnel yawned open, dropping into the shadows below the maintenance walkway. An old wooden ladder hugged the side, leading into the depths.

"You first. I'll close this up behind us," Glenn instructed.

Esther didn't hesitate. She gripped the worn rungs and lowered herself into the darkness. The walls of the tunnel felt rough, the marks of manual digging were visible in the jagged stone—shovel or pickaxe, perhaps. She descended quickly, landing on a wooden plank laid over the uneven ground. The tunnel wasn't tall enough to stand upright; she crouched low, her shoulders brushing the damp, narrow walls as she shuffled forward.

Every ten meters or so, wooden support beams crisscrossed above, straining under the weight of the earth, and faint glows flickered from firefly lanterns affixed to the beams, guiding her path. It was enough light to see the tunnel stretching forward—and at the end of it, an opening.

And beyond that opening, a blinding white light.

Esther squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes. After so long in darkness, the light pierced through her like needles.

Footsteps echoed behind her. "You seeing it now?" Glenn's voice asked, calm and dry.

Esther nodded mutely, her eyes still watering as she edged closer to the tunnel's mouth.

The moment she stepped through, the light engulfed her, an all-consuming brilliance that blotted out everything else. Even with her eyes shut tight, she could still see the white burning through her lids.

"W-What is this?!" Esther gasped, panic rising.

Glenn bumped into her from behind. "Calm down. Just close your eyes and wait a sec. You'll adjust."

Esther followed the advice, focusing on her breathing. Slowly, the searing white receded, replaced by a deep, impenetrable darkness. She opened her eyes.

"Welcome to hell—or, well, the Sunless World," Glenn muttered, her tone flat, unimpressed.

Esther found herself standing on the razor-thin ridge of a mountain, far above the ground. The tunnel they'd emerged from was tucked into the side of the slope, and now she was nearly halfway up the mountainside, the air thin and sharp.

Below her sprawled the burning ruin of Kyushu.

Flames devoured the land in every direction. The moss-covered plains were nothing but smoldering ash. The docks and villages nestled against the hills glowed orange, flickering with fire. And in the far distance, a river of pure molten light twisted through the land—not water, but lava, surging like blood through the island's veins.

It was a vision of destruction, of annihilation.

And far beyond it all, perched atop the highest peak to the north, a towering spire of light erupted skyward, a fountain of fire and smoke spewing into the atmosphere.

The volcano had indeed erupted.

Esther stood frozen, her heart pounding. A thousand questions tumbled through her mind, but one drowned out all the rest.

Did I fail to stop this?

And if so… who launched the missile?

She recalled Ivan's words—the warning he'd given her when she tried to stop him from pressing the missile launch button.

'The geology books and knowledge from the Old World can't be trusted. We might not even be on the same planet as the Old World anymore.'

Did that mean he was wrong?

Were they still on the same planet?

Could it be true—Columbus's tale? That Sunless World was nothing more than the underground remains of the Old World, buried and scarred by war?

Esther's thoughts spiraled until a sharp voice cut through the haze.

"If you keep spacing out like that, I'm leaving you behind."

She snapped her head up. Glenn was already a fair distance ahead, striding confidently along the narrow ridgeline. Esther cursed under her breath and hurried after her.

The heat was oppressive now. Sweat prickled her skin despite her not being tired, and every breath was laced with dust and ash that stung her eyes, forcing tears she couldn't wipe away fast enough.

They walked in heavy silence, the only sounds were the crunch of boots against crumbling stone and the distant roar of lava rivers below. It was suffocating—the weight of unspoken questions clawing at her—until Esther finally couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Uh… I'm Esther," she blurted out awkwardly. "And, um, thanks—for saving me back there. I… I guess I should ask… who exactly were you saving me from?"

"Saipan's army," Glenn replied flatly, not breaking stride.

"Saipan's army?" Esther echoed, disbelief dripping from every word. "What the hell are they doing here?"

Glenn shrugged. Her messy blonde hair shifted in the hot breeze, catching the light like twisted strands of gold. "Don't care. Maybe they're here to put a stop to this entire shitshow."

She stopped walking.

Esther nearly stumbled into her before skidding to a halt. Glenn had turned now, sharp blue-gray eyes boring straight into her.

"But the better question is—what were you doing in there?"

The chill in Glenn's voice bit deeper than the mountain air. Her pale gaze was merciless, cutting through any flimsy excuse Esther might have cobbled together.

"I—I was just… exploring," Esther stammered, instantly regretting it.

Glenn stepped closer, boots grinding against stone. "You do realize what they were keeping in there, right? Do you have any idea why they built that place? That's not a damn playground for kids like you."

Frustration flared—sudden and sharp—and Esther blurted before she could stop herself. "And what about you? You obviously spent months digging that tunnel into the facility. Why? What were you after?"

For a beat, the two women stood locked in a silent standoff—Esther's heart hammering wildly in her chest—before the tension cracked.

It was Esther who broke first.

She dropped her gaze, shame burning hot in her cheeks.

After all, Glenn had just genuinely saved her life.

"…I'm sorry," she muttered.

Glenn let out a heavy sigh before turning on her heel and walking ahead. Esther followed silently, her boots crunching over loose rocks. She thought the conversation had ended—until Glenn spoke again.

"Forget it," the blonde muttered. "I figure they're here because of that blinding light, but those soldiers… they're shooting at anything that moves. Civilians, too. So, no, I don't think they're here because we broke into that missile station."

"Blinding light?" Esther echoed.

Glenn nodded. "One of the missiles hit the mountain range up north. After that, well—" she gestured at the burning horizon, the rivers of lava, the black smoke twisting into the sky. "You can see the results for yourself. Looks nuclear to me."

If it was nuclear, we'd all be dead, Esther thought grimly. Glenn didn't seem to know about the volcano. But now wasn't the time to explain. There was something else in Glenn's words that gnawed at her.

"Wait—did you say the Saipan army is killing civilians on Kyushu?" Horror twisted in her gut. "But… isn't Kyushu part of Saipan? Why would they slaughter their own people?"

Glenn shot her a sidelong glance. "You really are a foreigner. What—did you just step off a ship?"

Esther opened her mouth to protest, but Glenn was already explaining.

"Saipan's a chain of seven major islands out in the eastern sea. Each island's got its own king, but they all answer to the Emperor of the Tokyo Archipelago. There's been bloodshed—lots of it—over the throne. Wars. Coups. Until one day the emperor died, and there wasn't a single heir left to take the crown."

"And so the kings agreed that the throne would pass to the monarch of the next largest island," Esther finished for her. She narrowed her eyes. "You're not from around here either, are you? And I know how Saipan's monarchy works—but that still doesn't explain why their army would turn on their own civilians."

Glenn leaped lightly over a jagged rock, landing with the grace of someone used to these cliffs. "Kyushu probably betrayed them. Maybe they allied with the Soviets during the Northern Sea War. The army could be here to wipe out the ruling family of Kyushu. Or—"

"Or the Tokyo Emperor's dead," Esther cut in again. "And they're here hunting the heir to the throne. Since Kyushu's the next largest island."

"Exactly." Glenn's jaw clenched. "Which means they can't let anyone escape. Not one soul."

Even if it meant killing everyone.

They both fell into silence after that.

The ridgeline they followed narrowed dangerously. In places, it was so thin they had to press their backs against the rocky wall to squeeze through. Fine dust and loose pebbles made footing treacherous—twice Esther felt her boots slip, sending a shower of stones clattering into the abyss below.

She kept her eyes fixed on the mountain to the north, its peak split open in a violent display of fire and ash. She could see the incandescent glow of magma, streams of lava carving bright orange scars across the land.

There was no doubt about it.

It was a volcano.

The lava creeping down from the northern mountain base inched its way toward the moss-covered hills, its relentless flow threatening to engulf the entire island.

We have to evacuate everyone from Kyushu, Esther thought, panic tightening her chest. But how?

Her frantic thoughts were cut short by Glenn's voice.

"We're here."

Esther blinked and looked up.

The narrow ridgeline they had been following opened onto a rough, dusty road—wide enough for vehicles. The surface had been cleared of rocks, compacted soil forming a crude path that snaked its way up the mountainside.

Next to the road stood a structure—small, solid, and squat, like a fusion of an outpost and a military bunker. Its concrete walls were cracked and weathered, layers of dust and ash clinging to every surface. It had clearly been abandoned for years.

Glenn strode forward, leading Esther into the bunker. The entrance was nothing more than a gaping hole in the wall—no door, no windows—allowing the ash-laden wind to leave its dirty marks inside.

Esther followed, her boots scraping over the dusty floor, until her eyes landed on a figure lying motionless in one corner of the empty room.

A child.

The small body was nearly unrecognizable, coated head to toe in thick layers of soot and ash. Unlike Esther and Glenn, who had walked along the ridgeline and picked up only a fine dusting, this child was so caked in black grime that Esther couldn't make out any features—not even whether it was a boy or a girl.

"Don't worry about that," Glenn said flatly, kneeling by a large duffel bag in the corner and rummaging through it. "Found the kid wandering after the fires broke out. Bit odd, but harmless."

Esther hesitated, then forced herself to look away. "What's your plan now?"

"Get the hell off this cursed island," Glenn replied, stuffing supplies into her bag. "I've got a boat docked at a fisherman's pier on the western coast. We can take the road outside and get there fast enough. I can take you two along."

A rush of gratitude swelled in Esther's chest, raw and overwhelming. Glenn didn't have to help. She didn't have to stop and pull a stranger—two strangers—out of danger.

She's like Rain, Esther realized.

Rain, who might now be captured—or worse—along with the rest of her friends.

"I... I really appreciate it," Esther began, her voice gentle, "but like I said, my friends are still out there, and they're in danger. I need to go help them." She hesitated before adding, "And I need to get back to our ship."

Glenn stopped packing and turned, her pale blue eyes locking onto Esther's. The cold clarity in them was impossible to ignore. Her sharp features, fair skin, and tousled blond hair made Esther suspect she might be from the British Isles.

For a moment, Glenn simply stared.

"Your friends are dead," she said bluntly. "If your ship didn't leave port before the Tokyo forces landed, it's probably at the bottom of the ocean by now."

The words hit Esther like a physical blow, and though she wanted to argue, she found none of the strength to do so. Glenn wasn't wrong.

In war, civilians got slaughtered. It happened all the time. And if she knew Captain Holland or Matthew, they would have submerged the Washington the moment they spotted enemy ships—ten minutes, tops.

They wouldn't have waited for any crew left stranded on land.

I'm alone, Esther thought bitterly. Alone on an island about to be swallowed by fire. Even if she somehow survived, she'd never find the Washington again.

And my friends... they're gone.

But she couldn't let herself say it—not out loud.

"I'm going to save them," she declared, forcing herself upright.

Glenn stood as well, towering over her by several inches. "You'll just get yourself killed," she snapped. "I know it's hard to accept, but throwing your life away won't change anything."

Esther stepped forward until they were nearly toe-to-toe. Without thinking, she grabbed Glenn's hand. The older woman flinched at the contact.

"Thank you. For everything," Esther said softly. "But I'm not leaving them behind—not alive, not dead. It's my job, as their friend, to never give up on them."

Glenn didn't respond right away. Her expression shifted, softening ever so slightly.

But before she could speak, a new voice cut through the tense silence, soft and hollow, speaking in Zen.

"Why bother?"

Esther turned sharply. The voice belonged to the child lying on the floor—now revealed as a girl, who had sat up in a cloud of ash that billowed like smoke around her.

"The world's going to end anyway," the girl added, her tone devoid of all life.

Esther's heart twisted at the empty sound of it, that complete surrender to hopelessness. "What do you mean? Why would the world end?"

Glenn muttered something under her breath before explaining in English, "She's been saying that since I found her near the moss hills. Probably in shock—maybe she has lost her whole family. I found what was left of a house nearby—she might've—"

"They're all dead," the girl interrupted. Her voice was flat, cold. "The sound from the northern mountain killed them."

Esther's brow furrowed, and she glanced at Glenn, hoping for some clarity.

Glenn just shrugged. "I got no clue what she's talking about."

"The sound from the northern mountain?" Esther echoed, her brows furrowed in confusion. "You mean the mountain that spews fire?"

The girl shook her head. Her short black hair was jagged and uneven, like it had been hacked off carelessly, the strands sticking out at odd angles and tangling in messy clumps. Bangs hung low over her face, nearly veiling her large, dark eyes.

"The sound was trapped beneath that mountain," the girl said, her voice soft but unwavering. "But the mountain's gone now. Nothing can stop the Voice of the Mountain anymore."

Esther felt a chill despite the heat. She wanted to dismiss the girl's words as delusional—trauma-induced ramblings—but there was something in her tone, in the hollow certainty behind her words, that made Esther's stomach twist with unease.

Something was imprisoned inside the volcano?

The idea gnawed at her. Was it even possible? That something—anything—could survive the crushing heat of molten rock, over a thousand degrees, trapped for who knew how long?

She became acutely aware of the girl's eyes on her, dark and round, gleaming through the curtain of messy hair.

"You don't believe me," the girl accused, though her voice lacked any real emotion—no anger, no sadness. It was just... hollow. "No one ever does."

Esther winced. "I'm sorry. It's not that I don't believe you, I just... I don't understand what you're trying to say." She crouched down, lowering herself until their eyes were level. "But if the world really is in danger, then I need to save my friends even more. I can't waste time."

Up close, the girl looked heartbreakingly young. Her face, beneath the grime and ash, was delicate and soft—she might've been beautiful if not for the layers of filth.

"Why?" the girl asked, blinking slowly, as though the question had never crossed her mind before.

Esther grinned and stood tall, striking a playful, heroic pose. "Because it's up to me and my friends to save this world! That's why! And we're not going to let some 'voice of the mountain' stop us!"

The girl just stared at her, expression unreadable.

From behind, Glenn let out a skeptical snort. "You're really going through with this? Even without a weapon?"

Who says I don't have one? Esther thought but kept the smugness to herself. Glenn didn't need to know about the 'something' inside her—the force that had saved her life more times than she could count.

"I've gotten this far, haven't I?" she replied instead, flashing a confident smile.

But Glenn didn't look convinced. She cast a glance toward the bunker's open entrance, where a vicious wind whipped up the snow outside, turning the entire landscape into a swirling gray wasteland.

"Storm's getting worse," Glenn muttered. "Are you sure you'll even find your friends in this mess?"

No, Esther admitted silently. She didn't have a solid plan. She was going to do what she always did—move forward, solve the next problem as it came, and hope that, when it really mattered, the thing inside her would give her the strength she needed.

But instead of saying all that, she nodded, firm and certain.

"I'm going to save them."

And with that, she walked out into the storm.

As Esther stepped out into the ashen winds, she thought—just for a fleeting moment—that she saw tears on Glenn's face. It could've been her imagination, a trick of the swirling dust and the harsh light filtering through the storm. But there was something unmistakable in Glenn's expression—an overwhelming, bone-deep sorrow that softened her sharp features, if only for a second.

Esther didn't think her words or determination had been that powerful. She wasn't that naïve.

Maybe Glenn had lost someone too, she thought. A friend... someone she couldn't save.