The lanterns along the narrow lane cast long, wavering shadows as the three friends made their way home under a velvet sky. A few months had passed since they'd officially become a trio, yet the rhythms of their evenings felt as familiar as the stars above them. Fell strode just a breath behind Post, careful to match her long strides, while Yuli sauntered ahead, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his worn coat.
Post glanced over her shoulder at Yuli and sighed. "Ah, damn, Yuli—you're out too late again."
Yuli shrugged without pausing. "I'll be fine. That old fool can't hit me hard enough to stop me from disobeying him."
Post shot him a warning look. "You could risk getting grounded."
He chuckled, shoulders brushing the cool night air. "Being grounded won't keep me from school—and from seeing you two."
Fell's soft voice drifted to him. "Maybe you should head home, Yuli. Don't aggravate the wound."
Yuli's steps faltered for a heartbeat. He turned, offering them a lopsided wave. "Suppose you're right." He shrugged again and began walking back the way they'd come. "Bye. I'll see you both tomorrow."
"Cya!" Post called after him, her hand still raised as he faded into the darkness.
Fell tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "So… you and Yuli."
Post rolled her shoulders like she could shake loose her nerves. "Even you caught on before he did."
Fell smirked. "I can spot a one-sided relationship from a mile away, darling."
Post let out an exasperated breath. "Yuli has the emotional intelligence of an apple."
"Maybe you're not showing your feelings enough," Fell offered gently.
"Oh, trust me, I am." Post's confidence wavered despite her words.
"Have you confessed yet?" Fell asked, her tone teasing but curious.
Post's gaze drifted to the moonlit path. "One day… but I'm terrified of rejection."
Fell raised an eyebrow. "A fine soldier like you, afraid of a boy's answer? Human emotions baffle me sometimes."
Post's lips curved in a rueful smile. "Vampires aren't so different from humans when it comes to the heart. Besides, he's probably too dense to notice! We've been inseparable for nearly a decade, and he still hasn't dropped a hint."
Fell studied her friend. "What do you see in an idiot like him?"
Post's eyes softened at the thought. "He's strong. Strong-willed, genuine, loyal."
Fell crossed her arms, brow arching. "I'm tough, strong-willed, genuine, and loyal. Would you consider me a friend… or something more?"
Post blinked, taken aback by the directness. "It's different. I've known him longer than I've known you. And when I think of strength and tenacity, Yuli's the first person who comes to mind. No offense."
Fell's lips trembled for an instant. "No offense taken."
Post shook her head, frustration mingling with sorrow. "Yuli is just… blind."
When Yuli finally reached home, an unsettling silence greeted him. The door creaked open to reveal chaos: torn paintings littered the floor, frames splintered against the walls, jagged holes pocked the plaster as though furious fists had raged through the room.
"Mom!?" Yuli's voice cracked as he stumbled inside, heart hammering. He followed a smear of crimson that led him, step by trembling step, to the kitchen.
"Mom…?" His breath caught. The pool of blood ended at the base of the counter. With cautious dread, he crouched and peered around the corner.
His mother lay still, her body draped across the tiled floor. Her neck lay unnaturally twisted, her wide eyes frozen in fear and sorrow. A knife, its blade darkened by fresh blood, rested at her side. Yuli's legs threatened to give way as shock rooted him to the spot.
Moments passed in a blur. Soon, flashing lights and stern voices filled the house. Investigators sifted through the wreckage, their hushed observations bouncing off the walls.
"She was strangled, then her neck was snapped," one murmured as he examined the body and the knife's handle. "See the struggle marks? She must've tried to defend herself."
He emerged into the entryway, approaching Yuli with solemn eyes. "Kid, I'm sorry about your mother."
Yuli's jaw clenched. "I know who did it."
The investigator's eyes widened. "You do?"
Yuli nodded, voice low but certain. "My father."
"You're saying it was Bawi? What proof do you have?"
He met the investigator's gaze unwaveringly. "The holes in the walls—they're the size of his fists. He never loved her. She was just leverage. I may not have proof, but I know him."
The investigator frowned, making notes. "We'll look into it. You can't stay here alone—do you have somewhere else to go?"
Yuli stood, shoulders squared against the rain dripping from his coat. "I can ask someone." Without another word, he strode into the storm.
The investigator watched him go, muttering, "He's acting strange for someone who just lost his mother."
Later, Yuli found himself on the edge of a high bridge, the river far below roaring in the dark. Rain plastered his hair to his forehead as he climbed onto the narrow railing, legs swinging free over the void.
"God," he whispered, voice lost among the raindrops, "let me join her." He let his weight shift, toes brushing the empty air. "My purpose has failed me. I couldn't protect her."
Tears mingled with rain as he stared upward, then screamed into the night. "If You exist—if this is Your doing—why? Was I not enough? I'm nothing without her!"
He slid, inches from disaster, when a sudden grip yanked him back. Someone wrapped arms around him, heart pounding against his spine. He froze.
"Yuli, please—don't do this," came Post's trembling voice close to his ear. Her face pressed into his back, voice cracking. "If you need purpose… if you need someone to fight for… fight for me."
He turned in her arms, rain running down both their faces. "Post…"
She looked up, tears shining in the lamplight. "Yuli… I love you."
They clung to each other beneath the unrelenting sky, two hearts anchoring each other against the storm.
In the years that followed, their bond only deepened. Post and Yuli became inseparable, their friendship blossoming into a steady, fierce love. Investigation into his mother's death eventually confirmed his suspicions: his father had killed her and vanished, wanted throughout the village and beyond. Yuli inherited the family home and a modest fortune of two thousand gold bits.
Three years after that terrible night, Yuli—alone no longer—was accepted into the military. As he donned his new uniform, his thoughts turned to the dirt path where Post and Fell now walked side by side, their laughter echoing like a promise of better days to come.
The morning sun poured over the meadow like liquid gold, and Fell held a dark umbrella overhead to shield her pale skin from its glare. A soft breeze rustled the grasses at their feet as she and Post walked along the dirt path, side by side.
Fell tilted her head, studying Post's bright eyes. "So… you decided not to become a soldier?"
Post shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "After hearing about how you plan to transform the village, I'm perfectly content staying here. Once I marry Yuli, I'll be happy living beside him. By the way—when are you going to become the official ruler of the village?"
"In two months," Fell replied, her tone crisp beneath the umbrella's shade.
Post let out an impressed whistle. "Oh, that's fantastic. Shame Yuli won't be there for your big day—he'll be off serving in the military for nine years."
Fell's lips curved into a wry smile. "Well, isn't that just sorrowful."
Post's gaze softened. "But once you're in charge, couldn't you make an exception—just for him?"
Fell sighed, the umbrella trembling in her grip. "My vision for the village is simple: restore everything to its former balance, then petition a larger kingdom for resources." She paused, watching a dragonfly skitter across a puddle. "And then we grow stronger together."
"That's… interesting," Post murmured, trying to sound intrigued.
Fell let out a soft laugh. "Don't pretend. You're yawning in your eyes." She lowered the umbrella, stepping closer until their shoulders brushed.
Post raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
Fell's crimson eyes glinted with earnestness. "Standing at the top can be lonely. And you, waiting nine years on a promise… that could be lonely too."
Post's breath caught. She glanced away, searching the horizon. "I…"
Fell reached for her hand, gentle but unwavering. "I know this might seem improper, but I think I'm in love with you."
Post's heart thundered. "What? But… Yuli is the one I love. I can't just abandon him."
Fell's grip tightened. "Post, he doesn't truly cherish you. He wants you because you make him feel secure—more companion than partner. I can offer you more. My future is brighter than his. Ours, together, could be extraordinary." She closed the small distance between them until Post felt the warmth of her breath.
"How can you even say that?" Post whispered, voice trembling.
Fell's eyes shone. "There's a difference between Yuli and me. He recognized your strength when he was at his lowest. I saw it the moment I laid eyes on you."
Post's cheeks warmed as Fell leaned forward, pressing her lips to hers. The kiss was soft at first, then blossomed with urgent longing—a promise neither had voiced until now.
Far away, deep within the barracks, Yuli stood fully armored from helm to boots, a massive war-hammer resting against his broad shoulder. Around him, soldiers of every order prepared for battle: paladins hefting axes, wizards chanting over floating tomes, rangers stringing their bows.
At the front of the room, a general raised his voice above the clatter. "Soldiers, we march against a nation mightier than our own. Chikastop has seized our lands and whispers of a weapon swirl through enemy camps. They call it Ark: a magical automaton of wood and steel with a power that could obliterate us. You—three paladins, four wizards, twenty rangers, and a hundred foot-soldiers—are the spearhead. Don't expect all of you to return alive. Those who do survive, count yourselves fortunate. We sail at dawn."
The general strode away, leaving a hush in his wake. The soldiers dispersed to ready their gear, but one older paladin stepped forward, placing a rough-gloved hand on Yuli's shoulder.
"Sup, rookie."
Yuli started, then turned. "Who are you?"
The paladin straightened, beard flecked with gray. "Name's Goldwin. I'm sixty—still serving strong. They offered me a cafeteria post back home, but cleaning plates isn't my style."
Yuli chuckled despite himself. "If I'm still in armor at sixty, I don't want to be ladling soup."
Goldwin's eyes crinkled. "Exactly. You must be Yuli, son of Bawi."
Yuli's smile faded. "Unfortunately."
Goldwin's expression softened. "I served with him. Never thought he'd… well." He shrugged and cleared his throat. "You'll be my pupil."
"Your… pupil?"
"Being a paladin isn't easy. I'll guide you."
Yuli nodded firmly. "Teach me."
Goldwin's grin was all triumph. "Great!"
The night air was thick with salt and anticipation as the warship's lanterns danced across the rolling waves, casting golden flecks on the inky sea. At the prow, Yuli braced himself against the brisk wind, the long chain of his war-hammer's handle slung across his back like a silent promise. His thoughts drifted to Post and Fell under that merciless midday sun—and to the words she had whispered just before he'd donned his armor, a confession that fluttered through his chest even now. Somewhere beyond the horizon lay both destiny and danger.
A weathered hand settled on Yuli's shoulder. He turned to find Goldwin, his silver-grayed beard faintly catching the lantern glow, studying the young warrior with kind yet probing eyes.
"Yuli," Goldwin began, voice rough as gravel yet gentle, "you're not even twenty. Who do you fight for at that age?"
Yuli squared his shoulders and met the older man's gaze. "I fight for my girlfriend—my future wife," he replied, tone earnest. "As long as she draws breath, I won't leave that battlefield."
Goldwin's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Good fire in your spirit," he said. "My fight runs deeper—I've already raised a family. A wife, two children, three grandchildren… two sons-in-law serving with us now. At my age, I've tasted life's every joy and braced its every sorrow, yet I won't let this war scorch my home to cinders."
Yuli's chest tightened with a new resolve. "If we fail," he whispered, "then I'll be paving hell's path to our door."
Goldwin inclined his head. "Tell me, boy—how long until you see her again?" His question carried the weight of countless separations.
Yuli's heart lurched. "I… I don't know."
Goldwin chuckled softly. "Three-month voyage, front-line duty for who knows how long."
"Three months?" Yuli's voice cracked. "That's an eternity. She'll miss me—more than I can bear."
"War's not decided with a snap of fingers," Goldwin reminded him gently. "It's a slow burn."
Yuli closed his eyes, the wind tugging at his cloak. "Thought it'd be different."
"You're green," Goldwin said with a warm ruffle of Yuli's hair. "Wisdom grows with seasons."
"Wisdom," Yuli echoed, leaning back and clasping his hands behind his head. "Right."
Goldwin's gaze softened. "Tell me—do you trust your girl's loyalty?"
"Without question," Yuli answered fiercely. "She saved my life. She'd be a fool to waste what we've built. She's mine—and I trust her."
Goldwin sighed, pride and concern warring in his expression. "Confidence is good—but never let it blind you."
A sudden thought pulled Yuli upright. "Wait… where's my shield?"
Goldwin's eyebrows shot up. "Shield?"
Yuli patted himself down, brows knitting. He only carried his hammer. "I… I left it behind."
Goldwin laughed, a booming sound that echoed off the timbered deck. "Lesson one: Never abandon your weapons."
"They're not alive," Yuli quipped, though his voice wavered.
"Perhaps they are," Goldwin murmured. He drew forth his own war-hammer, its polished head gleaming. "Fate binds you to your arms. Neglect them, and they'll fail you."
Yuli's eyes widened. "Truly?"
Goldwin stroked the hammer's haft as though it were a cherished steed. "I call him Emondo. I tend him—clean his steel, mend his handle. He's decades old, yet looks new."
Yuli reached out, running a finger along the cool metal. "It's perfect."
Goldwin smiled. "Perfection born of care. You? You've yet to forge a bond with your weapon."
"I don't understand."
"Drop Emondo into a pit of a thousand hammers—and I'd find him blindfolded in minutes. A weapon tied to your spirit reveals its true self."
Yuli's breath caught. "That… is incredible."
"Wait until the time is right. Then you will unleash its power."
Yuli's eyes shone with determination. "From now on… my hammer shall be named Kigumire."
Goldwin laughed, clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit!"
"Though," Yuli added with a crooked grin, "I might still call it 'my hammer'."
Goldwin shook his head, laughter lingering in his voice. "And without your shield? Don't be surprised if you fall."
Yuli lifted his chin. "My body is my shield."
Goldwin raised an amused brow. "An… interesting tactic."
Over the next three months, the two warriors forged an unlikely kinship. Yuli learned to read the tides and temper his impatience; Goldwin rediscovered the spark of youthful courage. Then, at last, they sighted the distant shore where fate awaited them.
Their arrival on the battlefield was a prelude to chaos: thousands of enemy ranks arrayed like a living wall beneath a blood-red dawn. Yuli, Goldwin, and their fellow paladins formed the vanguard. With a thunderous roar, both armies lunged forward, steel clashing, magic ripping through the air in jagged bolts.
Amidst the carnage, Yuli and Goldwin moved as one—shielding faltering allies, mending wounds with whispered prayers, carving a path through the storm of blades. Here, amid the chaos of war, their bond and their vows would be tested—and only one truth would endure: courage, and the care we give to both our hearts and our weapons, can change the course of fate.
The air quivered with tension as the last echoes of battle faded—and then a single, strangled cry pierced the din.
"ARROWS!" came the shout from a nameless infantryman, voice trembling. Helmets clanged as dozens of soldiers—Yuli and Goldwin among them—lifted their faces and saw the sky darken with a rain of jagged shafts.
Goldwin bellowed, "Close in on me, everyone!" He planted his feet, hefted his shield, and roared, "Holy Shield!"
A radiant surge burst from the shield's rim, expanding its reach in a golden dome that intercepted the volley. Arrows splintered against its luminous surface, showering harmlessly to the muddy ground.
Yuli staggered back from the oppressive clang of metal on metal. His heart pounded. "What sorcery is this? How can arrows materialize like a storm?"
Goldwin's close-set eyes narrowed. "That has to be Ark… that automaton."
Yuli's grip tightened on his hammer's haft. "I'll hunt it down and smash it!"
"Yuli—" Goldwin's warning cut through the chaos, but Yuli had already vaulted over a fallen comrade and surged into the fray. His war-hammer arced in broad, brutal sweeps, each strike felling enemy warriors like wheat before a scythe.
Blood spattered his vision as he barreled onward, spine thrumming with adrenaline. Then a low rumble vibrated through the earth. Before him, a massive boulder—smoothed by some inhuman precision—rolled toward him, flattening soldiers without hesitation. Crimson spray stung Yuli's face, nearly blinding him, but he tumbled aside just in time.
No sooner had he landed than a second stone flew in—from a distant trebuchet, he realized—followed by another, and yet another in rapid succession. Yuli danced between them, weaving through the carnage until one colossal sphere, aimed with unerring accuracy, bore down on him. Instinctively he swung his hammer. The collision unleashed a thunderous shockwave, flinging friend and foe alike off their feet.
"This thing was launched with insane force!" He growled, hefting his war-hammer for another blow. With a Herculean heave, he shattered the boulder into shards that whistled through the air, cutting down a cluster of enemy soldiers where they stood.
Panting, Yuli raced forward until he could see their adversary in full: an impossibly tall construct of burnished steel and polished wood. Its head resembled a snarling horse; its torso was that of a muscular man. Where a backpack should have been, a catapult had formed—then melted back into its form, only to become a loaded hwacha that spat explosive rockets skyward. The screams of the dying rose around him like a funeral dirge.
Goldwin appeared at his side, shield gleaming despite the grime of war. "That must be Ark," he said, voice grim.
Yuli squared his jaw. "It's out in the open. Think it sees us?"
Goldwin surveyed the killing field. "It's too busy slaughtering our lines."
"So—how do we take it down?"
Goldwin lowered his shield to the ground, staffing it firmly. He raised his war-hammer with both hands, the haft's iron surface beginning to glow. "Lesson Two," he pronounced, voice tinged with excitement. "The true strength of a bonded weapon. But I'll need your power, boy."
"What… how?"
"Your weapon's spirit must merge with mine." The metal of Goldwin's hammer peeled away like shedding skin, revealing a core that glowed neon orange, streaked with a flickering black aura. Two pinpricks of white light formed eyes above the hammer's head.
Yuli stared, mouth agape. "What in the—?"
Goldwin's grin was fierce. "You've not been schooled in divine arts, but I'll guide you now."
He held his transformed hammer aloft. "Place yours beside mine and strike on my word."
Yuli obeyed, bringing Kigumire to rest against Emondo's shaft. Goldwin raised his voice in prayer: "God, bless our weapons!"
A shaft of pure light descended in a column, enshrouding both hammers. Goldwin roared, "Holy Art: Obliterate! SWING!"
Their hammers sliced through the air in perfect unison, and a colossal orb of holy energy hurtled from their combined strike toward Ark.
Goldwin's voice cut above the roar: "Emondo! Tiger Claw!"
The orb coalesced into a titanic, spectral claw. Caught off guard, Ark whirled too late. The invisible talon struck the construct's flank, tearing it asunder in a blast so fierce it cratered the ground and sent enemy lines scattering.
Goldwin let out a triumphant laugh. "By the Divine, we did it! That monstrosity lies in ruins! Back to the ship, lad!" He scooped up his shield and dashed away, Yuli close at his heels. The two carved a path back through the stunned enemy, Yuli smashing aside any who dared stand in their line.
They rejoined their battered ranks, greeted by awed cheers.
"Ark is destroyed!" Yuli proclaimed.
A young soldier staggered forward, voice trembling with hope. "Truly? Incredible… but the war rages on. If that weapon's gone, perhaps we stand a chance!"
The slaughtered field stretched before them, silent save for the distant whining of something racing across the plain.
Goldwin studied the horizon. "Ark may have turned on its own creators. Reckless they were, crafting such a beast."
Yuli's eyes darted around. "Where's the other paladin?"
The soldier swallowed hard. "He... he fled. Deserted the ranks."
Yuli's fist clenched. "Unbelievable."
Another volley of clanging armor drew his attention. Suddenly, with no warning, a titanic ballista bolt punched through Goldwin's chest. The older man's roar of agony echoed once before he collapsed, crimson blossoms splattering the soil.
Yuli's heart seized. "No!" He spun, scanning the battlefield—far across the field stood Ark, arms reverting from ballista form, its hollow eyes fixed on him. Its chest shifted into a looming hwacha, unleashing a hellish torrent of arrows that shredded dozens of soldiers. Yuli threw himself prone as shafts embedded in his arm and shoulder, pain blooming white-hot, yet he scrambled upright.
Before he could recover, Ark's head folded into a compact trebuchet loaded with a single bomb. It hurled it with mechanical precision; the explosive thunderclap rocked Yuli out of his boots, flinging him atop a heap of corpses.
Warm blood clouded his vision. Dazed, he tried to rise, but darkness coiled at the edges of his sight. The world spun as he whispered into the dying light, "This can't be… not yet…" His eyelids fluttered shut as consciousness slipped away.