Chapter 7: Soft Landings and Sharp Words

Later that evening, Ito returned home, only to be greeted by familiar faces.

Rayan grinned the moment he saw him step through the door.

"Knew you'd be fine," he said with a confident nod. "You were with Captain Zeth—everyone knows how insanely strong that guy is."

Sara stepped closer, her brows knit with concern. She leaned in, her face inches from Ito's.

"Ito… are you really alright?" she asked softly.

Ito stiffened, cheeks turning bright red.

"Y-Y-Yeah! Don't worry—totally fine! Still breathing and everything!"

He stumbled backward awkwardly, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Rayan chuckled as he watched Ito grab a snack and begin munching.

"So, how's training going? You gonna start flying or shoot lasers from your eyes next?"

Ito shrugged.

"No way I'm doing anything like that… and you're totally making fun of me, aren't you?"

"Me? Never." Rayan smirked, then added, "Oh—and did you hear about the Knights Festival?"

Ito tilted his head.

"Hmm… yeah, I heard something about it. Fireworks, food stalls, games and stuff."

"Right. But there's also a knight tournament."

Ito blinked.

"Wait, what? A tournament?"

"Yep. All twenty-five nations send their trainees—students working to become knights. They compete in a huge tournament."

Ito's eyes sparkled.

"W-Wow, that sounds amazing! Did you ever take part in it, Sara?"

She shook her head casually.

"Nope. Never really interested me, so I didn't join."

Rayan nudged Ito with a teasing grin.

"Truth is, my little sister just hates the idea of losing—right, Sara?"

From the kitchen, a fork flew past Rayan's head, stabbing into the wall with a thunk.

Sara's voice came cool and sharp.

"Brother, sounds like you're not hungry for dinner tonight."

Rayan froze, sweat dripping down his cheek.

"H-Haha... I was just praising your modesty, sis! Honest!"

He ducked behind Ito like a shield.

"Ito, buddy, protect me. You're the hero here, right?"

Sara's voice softened as she turned back to Ito.

"What about you? Planning to take part in the tournament?"

"I want to… but doesn't it go against the rules? Only students can enter, and I'm already a squad member."

Rayan crossed his arms.

"You should talk to your captain. Maybe they can pull a few strings."

Ito nodded.

"Yeah… I'll ask the Vice-Captain and Captain Zeth."

Sara gave a casual shrug.

"If you're joining, I'll come too."

The next morning, Ito opened the front door—

—And walked straight into something soft.

"Eh?" he mumbled, face smushed into Shion's chest.

Before he could react—SLAP!

"I'm so sorry!" Ito yelped, bowing in panic. "It was my mistake, Shion!"

Shion blinked, rubbing her cheek.

"Oh no, I'm also sorry for slapping you."

Ito tilted his head.

"Are you here to see Sara?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Wanted to ask her something about the festival."

"Oh! So you're joining the tournament too?"

"Knight's Tournament?" Shion blinked. "Hmm… I've never participated before. What about you?"

"I'm excited! Planning to ask Captain Zeth if I can enter."

"I can tell you're really looking forward to it," Shion said with a faint smile.

Ito suddenly jolted.

"Crap—I'm super late for training! Vice-Captain's gonna kill me—bye, Shion!"

He bolted down the road in a blur.

Far across the land, in the mountainous region of Valles Nation...

Mist rolled over jagged cliffs. The wind howled like a warning through the peaks.

At the cliff's edge sat a lone man, cross-legged, cloak billowing in the breeze. The sun had yet to rise, casting long shadows like creeping phantoms.

Six silent figures flanked him—three on each side. Hooded, motionless, like ghosts standing vigil.

The seated man finally opened his eyes. His voice was calm, yet carried command.

"Any word on Nectar and Marco?"

A follower spoke.

"They went after the kid in Nation Yonor… but we lost all contact. Likely taken out by that knight—Zeth."

"We're still missing two others."

Another added grimly, "Lyniyan's dead—killed by the last surviving elf girl. Spike's vanished. No signal."

The leader was quiet for a moment.

"I see."

A rumble echoed through the mountains. Dust rose as armored vehicles sped toward the cliff. One of the hooded men scoffed.

"Tch… they think they can catch us?"

He cracked his knuckles.

"I'll deal with them."

Their leader stood.

"Don't move, Harnok," he said coolly. "I'll handle it."

Below, the enemy approached. The captain's eyes blazed.

"We're ending those bounty hunters—right here, right now!"

Soldiers murmured.

"Captain's fired up today…"

"Must be personal. What do you think, Jayson?"

There was a pause.

"…Jayson?"

He blinked. "Ah—sorry. I was just thinking…"

A wistful smile crossed his face.

"After all this time… I'll finally see my wife and daughter again."

Silence settled.

Then—chaos erupted.

Screams tore through the cliffs. Flesh shredded. Armor shattered. Blood sprayed like mist.

Soldiers dropped one by one, taken by an unseen force. Fear rooted the survivors in place. The pressure was suffocating.

The serene mountain now ran red—stained with blood, broken steel, and silence.

Then, as swiftly as it began—

The massacre ended.

Brutal. Absolute.