Dragon Slayer - Part 5

Esther pushed herself up from the floor, pulling away from the inferno that had engulfed the window behind her. The flames roared with such intensity that even the concrete walls had begun to catch fire, their surface glowing with an incandescent yellow that seared the eyes. The blinding radiance expanded outward, consuming everything in its path, reducing matter to mere embers in its wake. Though she had distanced herself from the blaze, her skin still prickled as if scalded by its relentless heat.

"Why..." The voice beneath her was soft yet unwavering, untouched by panic. The young Saipan girl stared up at her, wide-eyed, more bewildered than afraid. "Why did you save me?"

Before Esther could answer, a firm grip seized her arm, hauling her to her feet along with the girl.

"Talk later!" Sonia barked, urgency crackling in her tone. "We need to get out of here—now!"

Through the haze of heat and smoke, Esther spotted Rain, who had just cut the bindings off Will's ankles. The boy let out a sharp cry of pain as Rain hefted him onto his back. Nearby, Glenn cast aside her sniper rifle, the wooden stock already smoldering from the encroaching flames.

A metallic click rang through the inferno—the hammer of a gun being cocked.

"You… this is all your doing, isn't it?"

Lieutenant Takeda's voice rumbled with barely contained fury as he leveled his pistol at them. His grip wavered, though whether from the suffocating heat or the rage boiling beneath his skin, Esther could not tell.

Glenn stepped forward, arms flung wide in a protective stance. "Are you blind!? Do you not see the damn thing spewing fire out there!? What the hell do these kids have to do with any of this!?"

"This all started because you launched that missile!" Takeda roared back. "Because of selfish bastards like you, Saipan—"

"Enough, Takeda."

The words cut through the chaos like a blade. Esther turned toward the doorway, where Commander Kikyo stood, supporting the unconscious body of a fallen soldier—one Rain had subdued moments ago.

"The only thing that matters now is getting out of here alive," Kikyo said, her voice calm yet unwavering. "And if these kids do have any connection to that creature, then we need every bit of information they have to stop it."

Takeda clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he stood in tense silence. His brows knitted, a deep furrow forming between them as if he were weighing the consequences of his next move. But in the end, he relented. With a sharp breath, he lowered his gun before turning away, stooping to hoist the unconscious soldier over his shoulder.

"I don't care if you're spies or something worse," Kikyo said as she stepped onto the stairway landing. "Right now, we have no choice but to work together. Follow me."

Esther cast a final glance at the concrete floor, watching as it slowly turned a searing shade of yellow. The heat spread outward like a living thing, an incandescent tide that devoured everything in its path. The map table at the center of the room stood in its way—only for a moment. Then, in an instant, the wooden surface and the chairs around it erupted into flames.

"Looks like we really don't have a choice," Glenn muttered, swiping a slick layer of sweat from her forehead.

Esther gave a silent nod, only now realizing that her fingers were still tightly wrapped around the strange Saipan girl's hand.

…

The first thing that struck Esther as they reached the metal door at the base of the stairs was the sound—the chilling, agonized screams of soldiers as fire consumed them.

She swallowed hard, offering a silent thanks to the soldier who had risked everything, sprinting toward the control panel to slam the emergency lockdown switch just in time.

Beyond the sealed door, the surviving troops had formed a desperate defensive line around the armored vehicles, fanned out in a semi-circle. Esther's eyes darted over the heavy weaponry—the anti-aircraft gun looming at the rear, the rocket launchers balanced on soldiers' shoulders, the machine guns mounted atop sandbag barricades.

Yet none of them had seen what she had. Not that close.

Because standing there, staring at that reinforced door, she couldn't shake the sickening certainty that if the dragon breached it, no amount of firepower would be enough to stop it.

"We have approximately fifty men left," Takeda reported to Kikyo as he carefully laid the unconscious soldier onto the medical cot inside the foremost armored vehicle. The cot, a compact two-tiered bunk, was wedged behind the driver's seat and the gunner's position. A reinforced metal door separated the cockpit from the troop compartment, where rows of crash seats were bolted against the titanium-alloy walls—four on each side, spaced generously apart. There was ample room left in the center, enough to transport a dismantled turret or a small vehicle.

Esther had no doubt that these armored transports had been used to ferry the very weapons now being wielded by the troops outside. The thought lingered in her mind as she stepped onto the rear loading ramp, which had been lowered into a makeshift gangway. Her fingers remained tightly wrapped around the Saipan girl's hand, unwilling to let go.

Kikyo secured the unconscious soldier with the safety harness before climbing into the driver's seat on the left. As she slipped on her headset, her fingers moved instinctively over the radio panel, pressing a series of buttons in quick succession.

She wasn't about to leave her people behind to die.

"You have to retreat!" Esther blurted out. "Your weapons won't stop that thing!"

Takeda let out a dry, humorless chuckle as he settled into the gunner's seat on the right, pulling his own headset over his ears. "And what would a kid like you know?"

He pressed the comms switch. "All units, prepare to open fire on my command."

Esther made her way to the farthest crash seat inside the troop bay, just past the medical cot. Carefully, she lifted the Saipan girl onto the seat and reached for the harness.

"Why did you save me?" the girl asked just as Esther snapped the buckle into place at her waist.

Esther crouched to meet her eyes, lowering her voice to a whisper. "If you make it out alive, I'll tell you why."

The girl studied her for a long moment, long enough that Esther could feel the weight of her gaze pressing down on her.

"That's not fair…" she murmured.

A faint smile ghosted across Esther's lips before she turned and stepped toward the cockpit. She gripped the backrests of both command seats with steady hands. "You have to order a retreat," she said, her voice firm, willing them to understand.

Takeda scoffed, reaching for his sidearm. "Step back, you damn spy—"

The words died in his throat.

A blinding light flooded through the armored windshield, swallowing the cockpit whole.

A glowing ember of molten orange bloomed at the center of the metal door. It pulsed, expanding outward at an alarming rate. Steam hissed through the widening cracks as the reinforced steel began to liquefy, its surface warping and sagging under an unbearable heat.

Amid the rising panic and the soldiers' frantic curses, Esther made her final plea in Zen. "Please, Commander! You have to evacuate your troops—get them into the armored vehicles now! If you wait any longer, they'll all be burned alive!"

A sudden force yanked her backward. Pain exploded through her skull as the barrel of a gun slammed against the side of her head.

"Shut your damn mouth already!" Takeda snarled, looming over her.

"Takeda! Let her go!" Kikyo's voice cracked like a whip through the chaos, silencing the entire vehicle. Without hesitation, Takeda released her, letting her crumple to the floor like discarded cargo.

"But, Commander... this girl—she's a spy!" he argued. "She could be involved in all of this—"

As if in answer, Kikyo calmly slid her headset over her ears. "All units, abandon heavy weaponry and board the armored vehicles in an orderly fashion. Army Units One, Two, and Three—second transport. Units Four and Five—third transport. Units Six and Seven—fourth transport. Remaining naval personnel, fall back and board the nearest available vehicle. We still have time if everyone moves with discipline."

No one objected.

The ranks of soldiers broke into motion, sprinting toward the armored vehicles, casting aside anti-aircraft cannons, rocket launchers, and heavy machine guns—all of which were already beginning to glow orange, smoke curling from their overheated frames.

Kikyo removed her headset, her tone unreadable as she turned back to Takeda. "I've interrogated plenty of prisoners in my time, Takeda," she said. "Have you really lost the ability to tell the difference between a lie and a cry for help?"

Takeda remained silent.

Esther, still sprawled on the floor, dared not move.

With a weary sigh, Kikyo reached up, pressing a button on the overhead control panel. "Are all your friends accounted for?"

Esther jolted at the question, immediately twisting around to check the passenger compartment.

Will was strapped into a crash seat, Sonia and Glenn flanking him on either side, securing his harness. Rain stood at the open ramp, scanning the scene outside with sharp, vigilant eyes.

She turned back and gave a firm nod. "All present, Commander!"

Kikyo gave a curt nod. She pressed the red button on her right, and with a mechanical hiss, the reinforced steel shutters slid down, sealing off the armored vehicle's windshield. Only a narrow slit remained, just enough for the driver to peer through. From the rear, the heavy clatter of chains echoed through the cabin as the loading ramp was slowly pulled up, locking into place with a final, airtight seal. Steam hissed from the pressure valves along the edges of the door.

The deep rumble of the engine and the vibrations beneath her feet gave Esther the smallest sense of reassurance.

Inside the cockpit, the only illumination came from the dim emergency lights lining the floor. It should have been near pitch-black, but through the narrow slit in the armored glass, a sliver of light cut through—just enough for Esther to see something beyond the melting wreckage of the metal door.

Beyond the twisted, liquefying steel.

Beyond the sea of fire, a churning inferno consuming everything in its wake.

There, staring back at her, was a pair of reptilian red eyes.

She knew it was just her imagination, yet she could feel its gaze locking onto hers, unrelenting.

A shiver ran down her spine as she quickly averted her eyes.

"Takeda, go secure the remaining prisoners in the back," Kikyo ordered. "We won't be needing a gunner anymore."

The lieutenant strode past her without a word, stepping over her as if she were nothing more than debris in his path. His boot nearly grazed her arm.

"And you," the commander said, her gaze shifting toward Esther, "sit up front with me."

Her voice was calm, measured. Yet even so, it sent another shiver through Esther—perhaps not as piercing as the dragon's gaze, but unsettling all the same.

Kikyo slipped on her headset once more. "All units, report status."

As the radio crackled with responses from the other vehicles, Esther realized something with chilling clarity.

The red eyes were gone.

They were no longer behind the warped metal door.

A terrible sense of foreboding struck her.

She opened her mouth to scream.

"Reverse! Now—!"

Esther lurched forward as the vehicle suddenly shot backward at full throttle. Kikyo's hand clamped onto the hood of her jacket just in time, yanking her back before her face could slam into the reinforced windshield.

"Strap in," the commander ordered, lowering her onto the gunner's seat beside her. One hand still gripping the wheel, she spun it sharply, maneuvering the vehicle away from a concrete pillar looming in their path.

Ahead of them, the metal doors detonated outward.

Through the storm of shattered concrete and billowing dust, Esther saw two armored vehicles vanish behind the massive, serrated maw of the beast. The concrete walls around the entrance groaned and cracked as the dragon thrashed, its arrowhead-shaped skull twisting violently as it lunged after the retreating transports. The vehicles, now in full reverse, sped into the cavernous darkness of the missile launch facility's main hall.

A sudden burst of light flooded the space as the other armored units opened fire.

Gun turrets roared to life, unleashing a hail of heavy rounds against the creature's stone-like hide. Sparks erupted with each impact, bright flashes against its rocky exterior. Then, Esther noticed something—the rounds weren't just bouncing off. The targeted areas of its skin were disintegrating, crumbling into debris.

But there was no blood. No exposed flesh.

A living shell of stone?

The realization clicked into place. If what the girl had told her was true—if the creature had been dwelling inside a volcano all this time—then it was possible that layers of lava had cooled and solidified around its body upon entering lower-temperature environments. Over time, those layers would have thickened, forming a hardened exoskeleton.

Then that was their answer.

They had to break through the outer shell first.

"Tell them to concentrate fire on a single point!" Esther shouted. "The eyes, or the center of its head—anywhere we can pierce through that rock layer first!"

Kikyo smirked. "Sharp eye."

Without hesitation, she relayed the order, her gaze never leaving the side mirror, still going in reverse. With one hand still steady on the wheel, she jerked it sharply again, narrowly avoiding another pillar as the battle raged in front of them.

Sparks and fragments of stone rained down in a chaotic storm. The dragon thrashed violently, its colossal head swinging in blind fury. With a single sweep, it sent one of the armored vehicles on the right hurtling across the hall. A deafening explosion followed—a flash of white-hot fire engulfed the space.

Its relentless pursuit had already taken down several support columns, and now the ceiling was beginning to cave in.

Esther almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Twice in one day, she had found herself fleeing both a dragon and a collapsing ceiling—this time, at least, she was in a vehicle.

Yet, for the Commander of the Saipan military, the crumbling battlefield was nothing more than an added challenge.

Kikyo grinned, sharp and fearless, as she wrenched the wheel, weaving through the falling concrete with razor-thin precision. She paid no mind to the rows of falling pillars reflected in the windshield, nor the cavernous maw gaping open just in front them.

"It's catching up!" Esther yelled over the roar of destruction.

At that moment, Kikyo yanked the left-hand lever upward while twisting the wheel hard to the right.

The armored vehicle lurched violently, the entire cabin rattling as if caught in an earthquake. The sudden maneuver sent them skidding into a brutal reverse turn, barely evading the beast's snapping jaws. The dragon's fangs clamped down on empty air, crushing another support column in its wake.

Esther's head smacked against the seat. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

And then… the dragon stopped.

It stood motionless, its hulking frame looming in the debris.

Kikyo, unbothered, eased the armored vehicle back into formation with the remaining four transports.

It was then that realization struck Esther.

Kikyo had slowed down on purpose—baiting the dragon, luring it in. And while she might have called it a calculated maneuver, the driving itself had been nothing short of insane. Even as a driver herself, she could hardly believe it.

An armored vehicle could pull off a reverse turn that sharp—while moving at full speed?

Is that even possible?

Kikyo seized the chance to turn the vehicle around. With a smooth, practiced motion, she shifted gears, bringing the armored transport out of reverse as the rest of the convoy began to slow.

"It shouldn't be able to follow us," she said. "The ceiling collapse must have pinned its body inside."

Esther agreed with her reasoning, but instinct gnawed at the back of her mind. A creature capable of surviving inside a volcano—something that had adapted to such an extreme environment—surely had an evolutionary mechanism to withstand cave-ins. It would need to endure the crushing weight of shifting rock formations and tectonic pressure.

Then, it clicked.

It had already shown her that mechanism before.

"Fall back!" she shouted. "It's about to breathe fire!"

Kikyo was already slamming the accelerator, barking orders into the comms for the remaining three vehicles to abort their stop.

The headlights sliced through the darkness, and that was when Esther saw it—air distorting, rippling unnaturally, as if the space itself were twisting.

Gas.

Then, a blinding crimson light swallowed the hall.

The warped air ahead erupted into flames.

Kikyo checked the side mirror just as she yanked the lever, veering sharply to avoid a falling column of fire.

Esther stared, frozen in awe.

So that was its fire breath?

But it wasn't simply spewing fire. No—it was expelling an enormous cloud of highly flammable gas, saturating the air in mere seconds. Then, with just the slightest spark, it ignited the entire space in a cataclysmic explosion.

And yet, to the naked eye, the effect was the same—it was as if the dragon were unleashing a beam of pure destruction. The fiery column moved in tandem with its head, cutting across the battlefield like a scythe. Every surface it touched—concrete, steel—was instantly liquefied into bubbling pits of molten slag.

One of the armored vehicles vanished beneath the inferno.

It detonated in a burst of searing embers, its melting frame fracturing apart like overheated glass, bursting into blistering fragments before being swallowed whole by the flames.

The infernal column of fire slashed through the air, sweeping violently from side to side. (Which meant, Esther realized, that the dragon was shaking its head.)

The blazing torrent whipped past the front of their vehicle, shearing through an entire row of support columns in front of them.

Kikyo let out a growl as she slammed the brakes, narrowly avoiding the firestorm surging past the windshield. Without missing a beat, she jammed the accelerator, sending the armored transport hurtling forward—just in time to dodge another cascade of falling concrete.

Ahead, dozens of support pillars glowed a molten red from the dragon's searing breath. The heat distorted the air, creating a wavering mirage that outlined the doomed ceiling above.

Esther could see it. The moment of collapse.

The collapsing area was too much, too far ahead of them.

Her mind raced through calculations. Even if Kikyo was the most skilled driver in the Sunless World, she would still have to navigate through a gauntlet of falling debris—without slowing down, without losing the momentum they needed to escape. And on top of that, she had to keep dodging the dragon's fire.

Esther instinctively reached outward.

Not with her hands, but with her senses.

Like she had done in the Washington, when she had guided it through the torpedo field in the Pharaoh's tomb. She focused, seeking the subtle vibrations, the invisible tremors of shifting mass—

But it was no use.

The images forming in her mind filled her with nothing but dread.

Unlike the sinking pillars in the Pharaoh's tomb, this collapse wasn't buffered by water resistance. The concrete slabs plummeting around them had no force slowing them down.

And this time, there wasn't enough time to tell Kikyo what to do—as she did in Pharoah's tomb with Holland.

"We're dead…" she muttered from the gunner's seat, her gaze drifting blankly to the ceiling. "You can't do it."

Kikyo laughed.

A bright, clear laugh—so out of place, so unfitting in this moment of imminent destruction—that it startled Esther to her core.

Then, in an instant, the armored vehicle veered sharply to the right.

And the massive slab of concrete—one she had been certain would crush them—sailed past the windshield by the slimmest of margins.

But there were still more behind it…

Esther opened her mouth to shout a warning—

But before she could, Kikyo wrenched the wheel again.

The armored vehicle veered violently to the left, skidding just past another massive chunk of falling debris.

Yet this time, as Esther's gaze shot forward, her breath caught.

The next collapsing slab was simply too big. There was no way around it.

Kikyo slammed the accelerator, one hand gripping the left-hand lever tightly. But no matter what she did now, it wouldn't matter. Esther watched as the rock came hurtling toward them, an unstoppable force.

Then, in the final second—

Kikyo pulled the lever and twisted the wheel.

The transport lurched, swerving just as a torrent of dragonfire consumed the wreckage ahead.

Esther's mind reeled.

She planned this.

The commander had baited the dragon again, drawing its fire directly in front of them—just in time to incinerate the falling ceiling. And now, as the last remnants of molten debris crumbled away, Kikyo shot forward through the opening, slipping into the narrow gap with uncanny precision.

Small fragments of scorched stone rained down onto the armored hull, rattling against the metal like a rolling drumbeat.

Then—another hard turn to the right.

And back left again.

One obstacle dodged.

Then another.

Then a third.

And then—

Nothing.

The ceiling above them was clear.

Esther turned toward Kikyo, stunned.

Piloting a land vehicle required inhuman reflexes. She had known that—but now, she truly understood it.

Only then did she realize something else—the dragon had stopped.

It wasn't chasing them anymore.

The cavern had fallen back into darkness, silent once more.

Kikyo gradually eased off the throttle, slowing the vehicle to a stop about a hundred meters from the wreckage behind them.

"I can't do what? huh?"

Esther turned, and for the first time, saw the commander grinning.

Not just grinning—laughing.

A genuine, unrestrained laugh.

The kind of laughter that defied death itself. The laughter of someone who had stared fate in the face and emerged victorious.

And so, Esther laughed with her.

…

"The dragon… it really can't follow us anymore?" Will asked.

Following Kikyo's instructions, they were in the middle of moving him to the medical cot—where his injured leg would be less affected by the vehicle's vibrations.

"To be honest? It can follow us," Esther admitted. "But it looks like it's lost interest."

Their armored transport had been stationary for over ten minutes now. Two more vehicles had regrouped with them, but after a headcount, the grim reality set in—less than forty soldiers remained from the Saipan forces, and nearly half of them were injured.

Esther's gaze drifted to Will's bandaged leg, thick layers of white cloth wrapped tightly around it.

"How's the wound?" she asked.

"It hurts. What kind of question is that?" Will shot back. Then, after a beat, he added, "Still can't believe she actually helped."

After they had stopped, Kikyo had ordered the field medics to perform first aid on Will, stopping the bleeding.

Esther had to admit—she was surprised too. It was hard to imagine that the same woman who had pistol-whipped them earlier would now be tending to their wounds.

"So… does this mean she's not going to kill us anymore?" Glenn muttered, shooting a wary glance at Kikyo, who was currently checking the vitals of an unconscious soldier on the cot behind them.

Esther wasn't entirely sure herself.

"No," she said finally. "She won't kill us."

She glanced outside—at Lieutenant Takeda, standing beside one of the other transports, barking orders at his men.

But him? That's another story.

"So… what now?" Will asked.

It was a good question.

Esther forced a smile as she tried to piece together an answer.

"We wait for the lava-heated rocks to cool, then find a way out of here," she said. "That commander should know another exit."

"And once we do get out?" Will pressed.

Esther sighed. No point sugarcoating it.

"We go back to the Washington."

"You do realize," Will said dryly, "that they're not going to be waiting for us."

It was the unspoken worry hanging over them all.

"Forget someone like Captain Holland—no captain would leave their ship anchored just to wait for a missing crew stranded on land. Right?" He turned to Rain, who was leaning against the side of the vehicle near the boarding ramp.

For a long moment, Rain simply stared out into the darkness.

Then, at last, he spoke.

"You never know… They might still be waiting for us."

Will let out a sharp laugh. "And what possible reason would Holland, of all people, have to delay his course for a bunch of kids whose fate is unknown?"

Rain turned his head slightly, eyes meeting Will's.

"The Ship's Necessity Law."

The Ship's Necessity Law—a regulation born from the harsh realities of seafaring in the Sunless World.

Originally, it had been nothing more than a simple list—an emergency ranking of items that could be discarded overboard to keep a ship afloat.

But over time, that list had evolved.

Into something more.

Into an unshakable rule of the sea.

Protect whatever is necessary to bring the ship back to port. Sacrifice everything else.

And everything in this case included the crew themselves.

For example, if a captain was left behind, the first officer wouldn't turn the ship around to rescue them. Even without a written will, the ship could always find a new captain.

But if the ship's only engineer failed to return before departure? That was different.

In that case, the captain might even send a search party.

Will let out a bitter laugh, unable to hold it back.

"I'm just a dumb foot soldier. Sonia's just a night-shift radio operator. Esther's just an assistant researcher. If anyone here has Ship's Necessity… it's you, Rain. At the very least, you're necessary to Holland, aren't you?"

The sharpness in Will's words caught Esther off guard.

Yes, the idea of valuing a person's life based on their usefulness to the ship was a disgusting one.

But it wasn't Rain's fault that he was more useful than the rest of them.

And yet, the dark-haired boy showed no trace of offense. Not even a flicker of resentment.

Instead, he simply turned his gaze toward Esther, locking eyes with her for a moment.

"If this were before," Rain said, his voice steady, "he wouldn't have come for me."

His eyes didn't leave hers.

"But lately… Holland hasn't been the same. Maybe—just maybe—he'll come for all of us."

Will looked as if he had more to say.

But in the end, he just sighed.

"Hope's better than nothing, I guess." Leaning back against the crash seat, he exhaled slowly. "No point worrying about the future when we could die any second in the present."

No one spoke.

Silence settled over the armored vehicle.

What was the point of thinking about returning to the ship when they could be killed by that dragon at any moment?

As that thought lingered among them, Esther suddenly noticed something.

Sonia wasn't inside the transport.

She straightened slightly, glancing toward the cockpit.

"If you're looking for Sonia," Will said, noticing her movement, "she went outside a little while ago. Said she was looking for a bathroom."

Esther nodded absentmindedly before pushing herself up from the crash seat.

She passed by the Saipan girl on her way out. The girl had dozed off, her seatbelt keeping her upright while her head lolled slightly to the side—resting against Glenn's shoulder. Stray strands of dark, unruly hair fell over one of her eyes, obscuring half her face.

"She's cute," Esther murmured. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were her mother."

The blonde woman let out a weary smile. "Do I look that old?"

Esther grinned back. "Thanks for coming to help me. You didn't have to."

Glenn's gaze drifted off into the distance. "No… I should be the one thanking you."

"Huh?" Esther blinked.

Glenn shook her head. "It's nothing. I just… ran into a friend of yours—the one with the sword. He asked me to help."

Esther's gaze flicked toward the sleeping girl, guilt creeping into her chest.

Glenn had risked herself—and this child—just to help her.

Seeing her expression, Glenn quickly added, "The girl asked me to come help you."

"Really?"

Esther was genuinely surprised. They had only just met today—what could she have possibly done to leave such an impression on the girl?

The thought brought back their first encounter, and with it, a lingering question.

"The first time we met," she murmured, "she said the world was going to be destroyed by the Voice of the Mountain, didn't she?"

Glenn's pale blue eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to recall.

"Sounds about right…" Then, as if piecing something together, she turned her gaze toward the sleeping girl beside her. "Are you saying… she knew about the dragon before any of this happened?"

"Maybe she saw signs of it," Esther mused.

The Voice of the Mountain—

Was it possible that she had heard it while it slumbered beneath the volcano?

"But then why wouldn't she tell anyone?" Will asked from across the cabin. "If she told the adults she was hearing something strange from the mountains, they might've investigated it. They could've found the volcano before this happened."

Esther thought back to when she had tried to tell Ivan the truth—that the mountain was a volcano.

Maybe now, she understood this girl a little better.

"Maybe she did try to tell someone," Esther said softly. "But no one believed her."

Glenn reached up and gently brushed the girl's tangled hair aside.

"That's… really sad," she murmured, absently running her fingers through the unruly strands.

Will lowered his head, falling silent for a moment.

"…I'm sorry, Esther," he said at last. His voice was quiet, almost fragile. "For not believing you. If I had… none of this would've happened."

"If I hadn't followed Ivan in the first place, none of this would've happened either," Esther said, forcing a smile. "We all played a part in this."

"Sonia probably feels the same way," Will muttered, staring out into the darkness beyond the vehicle. "No… she must feel even worse."

"I'll go check on her," Esther said, stepping toward the lowered ramp.

"You might not want to," Will's voice followed from behind. "While you were unconscious… Sonia, she…"

But then, he stopped.

Esther didn't need him to finish.

"I told you already," she said, glancing back. "Even if I was only trying to stop you from launching that missile… I almost used 'something' to kill you all in the process. If Sonia believes I was fully consumed by it—if she thought she had to kill me—then I don't blame her." Her voice was steady. Matter-of-fact. "If I were her, I would've done the same thing."

Will looked stunned.

"You're taking this really well…" he muttered. "I thought you'd be… angry."

It was true.

Nearly being killed by a close friend should have made her feel something.

Anger? Resentment? Sadness?

But there was nothing.

Esther told herself it was because she understood why Sonia had done what she did. There was no reason to be angry when the logic behind it was so clear.

"Believe it or not, I'm more mature than I look," she said, flashing Will a small smile.

As she turned back around, she found herself standing face to face with Rain.

And for some reason, the thought of talking to him again after everything that had happened made her uneasy.

He stood near the doorway, leaning against the metal frame, his sheathed sword now strapped to his side. His expression, as always, remained unreadable.

"You're not hurt, are you?" she asked first.

Rain shook his head. "You?"

She glanced down at herself.

The scrapes from her fall down the cliffside had stopped stinging, though a dull ache still pulsed through her back whenever she moved too sharply. But in the grand scheme of things, it was nothing.

She was alive, after all.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing another smile. For some reason, smiling in front of Rain felt harder than usual. "Thanks for saving me."

He shrugged. "I saved Will and Sonia too. You would've done the same."

"That's not what I meant," Esther said quickly, almost annoyed by how easily he brushed it off.

Did he really not remember?

Here she was, feeling nervous just standing in front of him, and he had already forgotten?

"I meant back in the missile control room," she clarified, her voice firmer. "When you stopped me. If you hadn't—"

'You once asked me why I risked my life for you—even though we barely knew each other.

I save your life because—I wanted to know you better.'

If you hadn't said those words, I might have become a murderer.

I might have killed both Will and Sonia.

Esther wanted to tell him that.

But she stopped herself.

Something about Rain's words unsettled her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

And he—completely unaware of the turmoil he was stirring inside her—simply continued.

"I don't know if stopping you was the right choice," he admitted. "Maybe the volcano wouldn't have erupted if I'd let you kill them."

He turned toward her, his dark eyes like the depths of the ocean—silent, unfathomable.

"But I do know this," he said. "Even if you had saved the entire island, you would have regretted it in the end."

He was right.

And that was another lesson she owed to him.

"The Ship's Necessity Law."

She heard herself say it out loud.

"You, Will, and Sonia… you mean more to me than all the strangers on Kyushu combined. I don't regret what happened. You helped me make the right choice."

We can't save everyone in this world.

So we choose.

We choose the ones who matter to us.

The ones who bring our ship back to shore.

She knew it was just a way to justify her own actions.

She knew it was selfish.

But that was the reality of this world.

A world so cruel that it had driven a little girl to want to see it burn.

Esther didn't know what the Saipan girl truly wanted. But she understood her. And in that understanding, she realized something.

That girl hadn't given up on the world. She wanted it destroyed.

But I will protect this world.

For one day, I will change it.

Esther only now realized that she had been standing there, searching—searching for that trace of violet she had once glimpsed reflected in Rain's eyes.

She quickly averted her gaze.

"Sonia went that way."

Rain must have assumed she was looking for Sonia. He gestured toward the left side of the armored vehicle.

For a brief moment, Esther had the sudden, irrational urge to punch the oblivious idiot standing in front of her.

Instead, she muttered, "Thanks," and strode past him, making her way down the ramp—forcing herself not to stomp against the metal floor in frustration.

Whatever was going on between her and Rain…

She could figure that out after they survived this.

…

The three remaining armored vehicles sat in a loose formation, about a hundred meters away from the rubble that had once been the ceiling of the great hall.

Pillars of steam still hissed from the places where the dragon's fire had scorched the ground, but now, as the heat dissipated, those spots had cooled into jet-black stone—the same volcanic rock she had seen covering the dragon's body.

It had forged armor from igneous rock, even if unintentionally.

The thought lingered in her mind as she walked past the cluster of soldiers tending to the wounded.

Field cots had been pulled from the emergency supply compartments of the transports, arranged in a line behind the vehicles. She counted about ten of them, each occupied by a Saipan soldier wrapped in bandages or braced in splints.

Further ahead, Kikyo stood talking with one of the medics, while Lieutenant Takeda was busy issuing orders, restructuring the remaining forces—only about twenty men left now.

Amidst the movement and murmured voices, no one paid attention to the lone girl slipping away from the convoy.

She turned left at the side of the transport.

And there—

A glow in the distance.

Thirty meters ahead, at the far end of the hall, a massive fracture split across the concrete wall. The damage had likely come from the explosion earlier.

Beyond it, flickering light seeped through.

The glow of burning Kyushu.

A lone shadow stood at the fracture in the wall.

And even with the backlight obscuring her figure, Esther knew exactly who it was.

"Esther?" Sonia's voice drifted through the cold air, detached, distant. She didn't turn to look.

"What are you doing here? It's dangerous," Esther said, stepping toward the red-haired girl.

As she moved closer, she realized what lay beyond the break in the concrete.

A cliff's edge.

On the other side, a sheer drop stretched downward into the abyss. Wind howled through the gap, carrying flurries of snow that scattered across the floor.

Sonia stood at the precipice, staring straight ahead. Her short crimson hair billowed wildly, blending seamlessly into the fiery glow of the burning horizon.

Her golden eyes were fixed on the northern mountains, where columns of smoke and fire continued to spew into the sky.

"So this is all my doing, huh?"

Her voice was quiet, flat.

But the cold, chilling detachment in her tone sent a shiver down Esther's spine.

"Sonia, step away from there," Esther said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Just listen to me first—"

"Why are you still talking to me like we're friends?" Sonia snapped.

Her voice cracked, sharp with anger.

"Do you have any idea?" she demanded. "Do you know that I almost killed you while you were unconscious?"

"I know!" Esther shot back. "And if I were you, I would've done the same! I understand you, Sonia!"

The wind picked up, scattering flakes of snow through Sonia's hair as she finally turned to face her.

"If you really understood," she said bitterly, "then don't say you do."

Her voice trembled.

"Don't tell me you understand why I tried to kill you. Don't tell me I'm not a murderer just because I wasn't the one who pressed that damn button."

Esther stopped in her tracks.

Sonia was crying.

Tears and snot streaked her face, twisted with raw, unbearable anguish.

And yet, even through the pain, her eyes burned with resentment.

"But I do understand you," Esther said softly.

Sonia let out a hollow laugh, swiping at her tears with the back of her hand.

"Easy for you to say," she muttered. "You weren't the one who supported launching the missile. You weren't the one who—" Her voice caught. "You don't get it."

Esther stared at her.

At her first friend.

The girl who had stood by her side, who had been with her through everything—through the first true adventure of her life.

And once again, she realized just how much Sonia meant to her.

Sonia's breath hitched in surprise as Esther suddenly strode forward, stopping right at the cliff's edge beside her.

"I came here to tell you that I understand you," Esther continued.

"I came here to tell you that I understand why you tried to kill me, and that I'm not angry at you. I came here to tell you that you are a murderer—that you did try to kill everyone on this island."

Sonia froze in shock at her words.

"But you weren't the only one," Esther said, offering her a quiet, knowing smile.

"I didn't support launching the missile. I didn't press the button. But I was the one who supported following Ivan to this base in the first place. That makes it my fault, too."

"I came here to tell you that both of us are murderers. And by society's standards, that probably means we deserve to die."

Sonia tensed.

"So… you're not going to stop me?" she asked warily.

Esther's smile didn't waver.

"But before you jump," she said, "I have one request."

Sonia hesitated.

"What is it?"

Esther turned her gaze toward the volcano.

Slowly, the smile faded from her lips.

"I should feel guilty that I couldn't stop you. I try to protect everyone on this island, but I failed. So I should feel something for all the lives lost. But I don't."

Her voice was quiet. Unshaken.

"Not a single tear has fallen. Do you know why?"

She turned back to Sonia, meeting her friend's tear-filled gaze.

"Because I'm glad they died."

A sharp inhale.

"I'm glad that they died… and that you survived."

The two girls locked eyes.

Neither spoke the pain aloud, but it was there, reflected in both their eyes.

One murderer, who grieved so much that she wanted to die to atone.

Another, who wanted to grieve—but couldn't.

"Make me cry," Esther whispered. "Please."

Sonia pulled her into an embrace.

For the first time, Esther realized how much shorter she was—how easily Sonia could rest her face against the top of her head as she wept into her hair.

Esther closed her eyes, pressing her face into Sonia's shoulder.

At the very least, some tears still allowed themselves to drop.

Before them, the flames of their actions burned bright.

…

"We're evacuating the island."

Kikyo's voice rang clear over the gathered crowd in front of the armored transports.

"I've contacted Tokyo to request additional warships. They'll arrive in four days."

A murmur rippled through the soldiers, but the first to speak was Takeda.

"Hold on a second," he objected sharply. "What about the original plan?"

"The search for Kyushu's rightful heir?" Kikyo stood atop the roof of an armored vehicle, staring down at the gathered men below. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Takeda's jaw clenched. "But what about everything we've done? Everything you've sacrificed?"

His glare shifted—fixating on Esther's group with open hostility.

"You're really going to abandon years of planning—years of building the future of this country—just to throw it all away for them?"

For the second time that night, Esther felt her patience snap.

She was done being called a child.

"You call slaughtering an entire island governing?" Her voice cut through the air before Will or Sonia could stop her. "Because from where I stand, all I see is mass murder."

That was the last straw for Takeda.

With a furious snarl, he lunged.

Soldiers—Will, Sonia—anyone who tried to intervene was shoved aside, sent sprawling to the ground.

Before Esther could react, his hands seized the front of her jacket—hauling her off her feet, leaving her legs dangling in the air.

"Stay out of this!"

Even as fear tightened in her chest, Esther shouted the words—not just to the crowd, but specifically to Rain. She had no doubt that, given the slightest opening, he would draw that samurai blade of his and cut Takeda in half if it meant protecting her.

And she wasn't about to let that happen.

She hadn't provoked the lieutenant for nothing.

"I've always wondered," she said, voice steady despite the weight of Takeda's grip. "I know that after the Saipan Emperor's death, the military seized power. But weren't you supposed to protect the people? Did maintaining your rule really justify slaughtering an entire island?"

She felt the tension in his body, the way every muscle in Takeda's frame coiled like a spring.

His blue eyes burned with rage.

But in the end, he let her go.

With a rough shove, he released her, sending her sprawling to the ground.

"Kikyo never wanted power, you idiot!" he spat. "We were trying to tear down the old system!"

Sonia stepped forward, helping Esther back to her feet.

"And how is that any different?" she asked, voice sharper now—stronger. It seemed she had regained her composure. "If the ones in control are still you?"

Takeda's jaw clenched. But it was Kikyo that spoke from atop the armored vehicle, her voice cool and unwavering.

"We was only acting as interim minister. We only want to change the governing system that has made our country suffer for so long," she said. "Once we dismantled the supporters of the old monarchy, we planned to hold democratic elections to appoint the true leaders of the archipelago."

"A fully democratic government," Esther murmured.

She had read about different governing systems—knew how they operated in various nations. The United States of Underrica was also a democracy.

In both monarchy and democracy, all power is still funneled upward to a single leader. Only the title was different.

"You weren't satisfied with the ruling monarchs of the islands?" she asked.

"It's not them," Takeda ground out. "It's the way they rule."

While Esther was still bewildered, Kikyo suddenly blurted out, "What qualities do you think make a good leader?"

The qualities of a good leader?

Images flashed through Esther's mind—figures she had come to see as leaders in their own right.

John Cornelius, willing to risk everything for deep-sea exploration, even if he was frustratingly stingy when it came to city development. Did that make him a good leader?

And then there was Holland—a captain whose skill could guide a ship around the world to its destination. Could that same ability extend to guiding a nation and its people toward a shared goal?

But as soon as she made that comparison, she realized something.

Holland would never hesitate to sacrifice a few lives if it meant preserving the greater whole.

"And do you truly believe," Kikyo continued, watching the contemplation flicker across Esther's face, "that those qualities will always manifest in the men of a single bloodline? That the firstborn son of every generation will inherently possess the wisdom to lead?"

She met Esther's gaze, eyes sharp.

"Do you honestly think leadership should be an inheritance—passed down within one family until the very end of a nation?"

By principle alone, the answer should have been no.

But Esther had never lived under a monarchy. She had no personal understanding of its flaws—no grasp of the weight of the problems that came with it.

And she wasn't sure if those flaws were worth the price of an entire island's destruction.

"...But was it worth killing everyone on this island?" she asked at last. "To change the system?"

Kikyo's gaze drifted toward the fracture in the hall's wall.

"I would wipe out this entire island if it meant eliminating the last heir to the throne."

Her voice was quiet.

"As long as that child lives, the royalists can still revolt. If he dies, then everyone will have to accept that Saipan's Supreme Emperor is no more. The ruling lords of the islands will turn on each other, fighting for the empty throne. And when they've slaughtered one another…"

She looked back at Esther. "We'll move in. We'll erase what's left of them. And Saipan will have no kings left to rule."

Takeda took a step forward.

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice low and burning, "how many years we've planned for this?

"Do you know how long it took to climb the ranks—to seize power from those inefficient, decrepit commanders?

"How much effort we poured into campaigns, into spreading knowledge of the monarchy's injustices?

"We taught the younger generation to rise up against the Emperor."

He exhaled sharply, eyes flickering with something beyond anger—something desperate.

"And now, when we're this close—when we finally have the chance to bring it all down—"

His fists clenched.

"You're throwing it away… for them?"

Kikyo's cold gaze locked onto Lieutenant Takeda.

"Saipan is more important than my ideology," she said flatly.

She turned back to the gathered soldiers.

"Our priority now is killing that dragon—before what happened to Kyushu happens to every other island."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

Scattered voices rose around Esther.

"But isn't it Kyushu's god? Doesn't it protect the island from us?"

"This has to be punishment… for what we've done."

"We're barely twenty men—how the hell are we supposed to fight that thing?"

Fear.

It spread like wildfire through the ranks.

And deep inside, she felt it too.

How do we even kill a dragon?

The voice in her own mind trembled just as much as the ones around her.

But maybe—

Maybe there was a way.

'Are you ready to hear my plan?'

A voice echoed in her head.

A boy's voice.

Green-haired. Strange eyes.

At first, she had dismissed it as a hallucination—just another fever dream from the edge of unconsciousness.

But now…

Now, she wasn't so sure.

He had invited her into his plan.

A plan to save the world.

But he had never told her—

Save it from what?

'If you see it, you'll understand.'

'All I can tell you is that it's a threat to every living thing in Sunless World.'

Then it was certain.

This was the plan—to protect the world from that dragon.

The boy had said she would find a vehicle nearby.

And she had. The armored transport had been here, just as he'd implied.

Relying on a hallucination—or a dream—was a terrible plan.

But Esther had already decided to take the risk.

The anxious murmurs around her were abruptly silenced by the crack of a gunshot.

"We have four days to gather the evacuees," Kikyo announced, her voice sharp as ice. "We will force them to fight alongside us. Hold the dragon back until the warships from Tokyo arrive."

The silence thickened.

"Cowards," Kikyo spat. "Stop using your gods as an excuse. How could that thing be the protector of this island when it's burning it to the ground? When it's slaughtering the very people it's supposed to protect?"

Her words cut through the air like a blade.

"It's not a god. It's a monster. And just like this monster, we came here to kill the people of this island. So, we too are monsters. This is our duty. This is our atonement for those we have already killed." A slow, sharp grin spread across her face.

"Only a monster can hunt another monster, right?"

No one argued.

No one moved.

And then—without another word—Kikyo climbed down from the armored transport.

The shift in the soldiers was immediate.

They stopped hesitating. Stopped doubting.

They began checking their weapons, securing their gear.

Her words had reached them.

They weren't running anymore.

Esther wasted no time.

She ran to Kikyo's side, catching up with her near the armored transport.

"Commander!"

Kikyo turned, her eyes narrowing with curiosity as she regarded the girl.

Esther took a steady breath, forcing herself to focus.

"Four days is too long," she said firmly. "If the dragon doesn't kill us first… the volcano will."

At the mention of the volcano, Kikyo's expression darkened.

"They've known about it for years," she muttered. "And yet, the kings who ruled this island never bothered to prepare. They assumed it wouldn't happen in their lifetime."

Esther caught onto something in her words.

"So that's why you despise the ruling monarchs?"

Kikyo exhaled, leaning back against the steel frame of the transport.

"No," she said simply. "That's just one of many reasons."

She folded her arms.

"Even if the warships from Tokyo arrive, there's no guarantee they can kill the dragon. We've lost contact with our destroyer. It's likely the port was already burned down."

Esther hesitated, choosing her next words carefully.

"Uh… well…"

Kikyo narrowed her eyes.

"What is it?"

She would listen. She had to.

Twenty soldiers and three armored vehicles weren't enough.

Even with a fleet—even with reinforcements—there was no guarantee they could kill that dragon.

The plan in her head was reckless.

Unstructured.

So flawed it barely deserved to be called a plan at all.

But maybe—

Maybe it was better than having no plan.

"Will you hear me out?"

Esther met Kikyo's gaze.

"I have a plan."