Return to Shangila

The golden rays of morning washed over the distant skyline of Shangila City, its towering spires and sprawling buildings casting long shadows on the countryside. The once-cursed lands of Darknot were far behind—but the weight of what they had uncovered lingered heavily in the air.

Inside the rattling carriage, Adonis lay slouched, wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a poorly made doll, his eyes fixed on the passing trees through the small window.

"So," Elora's cheerful voice cut through the quiet, "the villagers decided to build a statue of your giant sword in the middle of the crater. They're calling it the 'Blade of Salvation.'" She grinned. "Pretty cool name if you ask me."

"…Too flashy," Adonis muttered, then winced. "Still… kind of nice, I guess."

"You guess?" Elora scoffed. "You basically smacked a mansion out of existence. A statue is the least they can do."

Adonis sighed. "Still… we didn't stop Rabisu."

Flick!

"OW! That hurt!" he yelped, recoiling as Elora smacked her finger against his forehead.

"No sulking!" she scolded. "We destroyed the altar, freed the villagers, and broke the red star. Rabisu only got a drop of that black liquid. One drop. You said it yourself—it took 50 years of collected negativity to make that. He may have escaped, but he's no god yet."

Adonis gave a small smile. "Guess you're right."

She nodded, proud. "Always."

Then his tone shifted. "But… that drop was enough to awaken a forbidden element. You saw it too. That dark aura… those abilities… 'Darkness Prison' was an advanced spell—and he used it like it was second nature."

Elora's expression darkened slightly.

"You think… the Sorcerer found a way to create the dark element?" she asked softly.

"More than that," Adonis said. "I think he discovered the source. Negative emotions. The altar and the red star acted as a collector—draining grief, fear, sorrow from the villagers over decades. That black liquid… was pure concentrated despair. That's why Rabisu could awaken the element with a single drop."

Elora crossed her arms. "Then we're not just dealing with some cultist. We're dealing with the legacy of a madman who learned how to bottle darkness."

"I'd say… we're only just seeing the beginning," Adonis murmured.

Silence fell for a while. The city was getting closer.

"…I'll tell my grandfather as soon as we arrive," Elora finally said. "This isn't something that can be ignored. The Guild needs to know. If Rabisu really creates even a hundred dark-element mages… the world might plunge into a war of a completely different kind."

"Yeah," Adonis agreed. "And that's why I need to recover fast."

"Huh? Why?" Elora asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You did promise to teach me support magic, remember?" he grinned faintly. "If I'm going to get stronger… I'll need a good teacher."

"Oh please, flattery won't get you free tutoring," Elora snorted, turning away smugly. "You'll owe me food. A lot of food."

"As long as it's not your cooking," Adonis joked.

"HEY!"

As they both argued

Outside, the first stone roads of Shangila came into view. The guards at the gate stood tall as their carriage passed, bowing respectfully. Elora leaned forward, pulling the curtain aside.

"We're home," she said.

Adonis smiled, gazing up at the familiar skyline.

But even as they returned to the comfort of civilization, neither could forget what they had faced—and what was still to come.

Far away, beyond the edge of the map… a man with red eyes and black smoke clinging to his shoulders stood in silence, staring up at a gray, cloud-covered sky.

"…This world," Rabisu whispered, "will know what true despair feels like. The Sorcerer only scratched the surface… I will finish his work."

And somewhere… another red star began to shimmer faintly.