After the storm subsided and its ferocity buried the corpses and blood beneath its golden sands, only hands and feet remained visible, soon to be swallowed entirely by the drifting dunes.
As for Sword of the Sky and his comrades, they were nearing their destination; only a few steps remained before they would pass through the city gate.
At that moment, a gust of dry wind rose, carrying with it the stench of slaughter and blood that sent shivers through their bodies. Luke, Ryo, and Kater ignored it, but Sword of the Sky was the sole exception.
His legs refused to move; he stood frozen in place, utterly drained of strength. At the moment he would step across the threshold, he knew he had to face reality as it was—whether it brought ruin or salvation—yet this inevitability robbed him of the power to advance.
His companions looked at him in surprise: he had been the first to challenge them to come here, and now he stood helpless, unable to take a single step forward, worry etched on his trembling frame.
Luke maldis d'hak spoke up, "Why aren't you moving? Weren't you the one who wanted to come here? What's happening to you now?"
Sword of the Sky's face lost all color; he bowed his head, despair carved deep into his features. Yet what other choice did he have but perseverance? He ground his teeth, clenched his fists, and then took a determined step forward. "I'm fine now. Let's go on."
His companions followed silently, not uttering another word.
The scent of death hung heavy in the air, coating every nose with its foul odor. Worms had begun devouring the corpses, leaving only gleaming white bones. At every step lay the bodies of children, women, and elders—no one had escaped.
Then they all halted at a single, heart-wrenching scene: a woman and a small child, embracing one another, their heads severed from their bodies. Sword of the Sky spoke with pained helplessness: "It must be a mother and her child. She held him to protect him until the very end, hoping—however faintly—to reassure him that everything would be all right."
Sometimes, no matter our power, our instincts take control. In the end, however formidable and colossal the monsters may be, humanity's will and spirit endure. This period too shall pass, and one day humans will reclaim their dominion.
Their sorrowful expressions eased slightly as they heard Sword of the Sky's words, but with each further step, the horror of the massacre grew. Corpses lay scattered—people who clung desperately to life until the last breath, yet fate had condemned them to death.
The mother-and-child tableau recurred across the landscape in different variations: heads protruding from half-buried bodies; similar scenes with fathers and siblings. No creature on earth could erase the instinct to protect the ones we love.
"I cannot leave life behind," Sword of the Sky thought, as despair, fear, and awe began to overwhelm him. His hope that his own family—and his friends—might still be alive was fading. Grief and frustration contorted his features.
Each step closer to his home felt like a thousand knives piercing his heart, slowing his progress and deepening his dread of finding them dead without even the mercy of seeing their bodies. Every stride weighed him down; his eyes threatened to unleash an endless torrent of tears. He could not go on.
He sank to his knees, his hands pressed against the ground, succumbing to utter despair. His friends looked back at him, sorrow and pity etched on their faces.
Kater stepped forward, looking up at the calm, star-studded night sky. "You know," he said, "I've lost hope of finding my loved one alive too. But as long as I haven't seen their corpse, I cannot live in peace. It's an endless inner struggle: Are they dead? No, I haven't seen their body. Are they alive? I don't know. Maybe they died—but I didn't see it. What now? Are they alive or dead? There is no answer."
He paused, then continued, "So rise and accept reality as it is. If they're dead, time will dull your pain. If they're alive, they could die today or tomorrow or sometime later. Their life—and death—are in your hands now. Decide before it's too late."
Then Kater moved on, Luke and Ryo following after him. Their pitying glances remained fixed on Sword of the Sky, who still knelt with shame and scorn in their eyes.
True, he had endured a terrible ordeal, but his companions were suffering too. Sword of the Sky had been the exemplar of every noble swordsman, yet now his friends were disappointed in him.
He looked at their contemptuous stares and sank into reflection: What is happening? Why have I become the object of pity? Has it come to this? Is my state so wretched that I inspire nothing but shame? I have already surrendered—and that is something my friends have never seen. I have revealed my most detestable side. I have never given up until this moment… But what can I do now that I have? The answer: nothing. I will remain pathetic. Everyone will look down on me. I cannot bear this disgrace. Will I not rise? I will go on. I will accept reality, whether painful or joyful. I have no choice but to accept it and continue living.
Slowly, he began to stand. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips, and he cried out, "Wait for me!"
His friends turned with fresh confidence; they believed in him to the end, certain he would never truly yield.
Smiles returned to their faces as Sword of the Sky rejoined them, forging an unbreakable bond of camaraderie.
He then pushed open the door of his home—unlocked—trembling slightly, but Kater patted his shoulder reassuringly: "Don't worry. We're with you."
He stepped inside, swallowing hard with each footfall. One step… then another… until he entered the living room—and found it empty. He moved through each room in turn, but no one was there.
Sword of the Sky's heart eased at last, though soon clouded by lingering doubts—some dark, some hopeful: "I feel some relief that they aren't here, but where could they be now? The outside is so dangerous. Since I didn't find them inside, perhaps my aunt f
led with them, or perhaps they perished out there."