"Even under the cold moon, flames burn with the fury of a thousand lost souls."
— Letter from Hotaru no Yakusha
---
The moon hung heavy and indifferent above the charred landscape, its silver light casting eerie shadows across the broken earth.
Beneath its gaze, fires still smoldered—glowing embers that resisted the encroaching darkness like stubborn scars.
Shindō stood amidst the ruins, the heat of the flames licking at his skin, a sharp contrast to the chill in his bones.
The war was not just a physical battle—it was an inferno burning through the hearts of all who dared to resist.
---
Yuuki's voice broke the silence, soft yet fierce.
"Flames beneath the moon are the fiercest.
They burn not for warmth, but for vengeance."
He watched the flickering light dance in her eyes, reflecting a fire that matched the turmoil within his own soul.
---
Around them, the cultists moved like shadows, their faces twisted in fanatic devotion.
The air pulsed with tension—a quiet before the storm.
Shindō tightened his grip on his nodachi, ready to ignite the next chapter of this endless war.
---
Beneath the cold moon, the flames roared—
A testament to defiance, destruction, and the unyielding will to survive.