"Fine! Try it if you dare! Let’s see who kills who!" Sais flared, her crimson hair whipping like fire in a gale. Dark Blade hissed free; cold sparks pricked the air, killing intent spilled like frost.

"Sais! Calm down. Don’t make this irreparable!" Medith’s shout cut like ice. Sais stilled, yet the reek of blood ringed her like winter.

"Look at her! She’s ready to kill and silence us. We hit the mark!"

"Yeah! Chief Cecilia! Give the word—kill her!"

"Kill her!"

"Enough—" The word cracked from behind the Kuso ranks like thunder. Bloodshot eyes cleared a shade, and a path opened like parted reeds.

"Done venting yet?" Gus, the vice chair, finally stepped out, steady as stone. "We haven’t even investigated. Look at you. What are you?" His anger burned hot, his stance cold.

He fixed those deep eyes on Medith. "Guildmaster Medith, even if it wasn’t you, it’s tied to your side." His voice was a flat blade. "Until we have the facts, no one leaves this door." He chopped the air. "Disperse."

People peeled back like a receding tide, unwilling, then rooted at the threshold. Their stance turned the doorway into a jail gate.

"You bastards!" Sais couldn’t swallow the insult. She surged, a spark leaping for tinder.

"Are you done?" Medith’s gaze was a winter spear. Sais met it, and her rage guttered out. She drooped like a wilted eggplant, head low and silent.

"Don’t panic. Stay in the hall and don’t act rashly." Medith’s voice was calm as Mount Tai in a storm. "For these days, don’t leave your dorms. Leave everything to me."

The room exhaled. They traded looks, legs stiff as wood, and trudged upstairs. Doors clicked shut like falling pebbles, bolts set tight.

...

"Cecilia, can you walk us through what happened?" Medith called from inside the door, voice like wind through pines.

Cecilia drew breath, but Gus lifted a palm. The words died like a snuffed lamp.

Hearing no reply, Medith only nodded. She pulled everyone close, and their whispers slipped into Wind Speech.

"Herbert is dead," Medith breathed, grief cool as night mist.

"How do you know?"

"He was targeted. His death was certain. I don’t know by whom..." She threaded the few clues like beads, and most of her guess took shape.

"What do they want? Why kill him? Who profits, and who gets dragged in?" Lina voiced the knots, and the others understood.

"Whoever it is, do not clash with anyone from their guild." Medith’s fingers laced tight, knuckles pale as bone. "That would be walking into their trap."

"But... what if they strike first?" Melia asked, worry fluttering like a trapped moth.

Medith’s eyes deepened, a night sea without waves. "I’ll handle it when it comes."

...

Feb 27, 12:34 p.m. Gill led a host to the site. Bodies lay sprawled crosswise, like broken puppets in dead grass.

"Ah... ah..." Men stared at toppled gifts and torn wrappings. Pain twisted their chests like a cold knife.

Days ago they’d laughed together in sunlight. Now they were rancid remains under a red sky, breathing death.

Blood ran like a river. Bodies of Sprites and Kuso Guild members tangled together. Their mingled blood soaked the earth, turning the dirt dark crimson.

Scorch marks bit the ground. Sword-gouges and scattered weapons littered the scene. It looked like a storm had chewed the land.

Gill saw a familiar face at the center. He drifted forward, as if in a dream, each step heavy as mud.

His brother’s frivolous grin rose like a warm breeze. The corpse before him stank of iron and silence, a cruel mirror.

"How... how?" Eddie, usually sullen as a raincloud, stared wide-eyed. Disbelief froze his face.

Haywood wore sorrow like a gray shawl, but his eyes stayed dry, distant as a far hill.

Gill’s legs gave out. He fell to his knees, arms trembling as he gathered Herbert. "Uhh... uhh... who... who did this... who would do this to my brother..."

"Uhhh—ahhhh—ahhh—" His fair, handsome face twisted with grief. His eyes burned red, and despair spilled like rain.

"Was... was all this done by the Dusk Elves?" Eddie crouched and checked a dead comrade. The sword cuts and arrows bore Wind Sprite enchantments, clean and sharp as cold air.

And the wounds on the Sprites matched Kuso Guild weapons. Even the unique shapes after Magic Breaker were there, stamped like seals.

After minutes of wailing, Gill hardened grief into ice. He closed Herbert’s unseeing eyes with gentle fingers, then checked the other bodies. Herbert’s fist clutched something tight as a clamshell.

Gill tried to pry it open. The corpse was iron-stiff, joints locked. He gritted his teeth and forced it. Crack. The crisp snap of bone raised gooseflesh all around.

"This is..." In Herbert’s palm lay a blood-smeared white coin. The emblem was the Dusk Legion. Medith’s initials were engraved on it like a thorn.

"Medith..." The coin clicked between Gill’s fingers, clack-clack, like a grinding jaw. Hatred flooded his face like a black tide.

"Your Highness, the iron bridge was broken." A scout’s voice came thin as smoke. "But the edges are odd, like fire scorched them. Do we investigate—"

"Carry the bodies back." Gill’s roar was a breaking wave. "I’ll use Medith’s blood to soothe my brother’s spirit!"

"O’Neil. Do you recognize this coin?" Gill’s tone dropped to cold steel.

O’Neil swallowed, throat dry as dust. "No. She must’ve sent people to ambush us. They’ve taken this shortcut before. It’s a day faster than the main road. They knew."

He pointed at a boulder. "They even left words on that rock."

Gill led everyone to ring the stone, breath smoky in the chill.

[Dusk Legion, embers unextinguished.]

[↑ 4 Dusk Elves S]

(There was a sketch by the mark. It was Herbert’s dying cipher. Read correctly, it revealed the true message.)

The words fit the man they knew, bold and grim. Gill’s tears returned like a turning tide.

O’Neil saw the signs and understood at once. Panic gnawed his knees to water. He regretted bringing them to the stone, regret heavy as lead.

"Your Highness... what does this mean?" Someone pointed at the strange symbols, face pale as ash.

O’Neil rushed his words like a man bailing a boat. "It must be a signal he scratched as he was dying, while they weren’t looking."

"The symbols on the arrow? That’s just his blood spatter. No meaning."

"Cover the arrow, and it reads four Dusk Elves. The S stands for Medith. Or at least for an S-class of the Crimson Sunset Guild."

"So the full message is: Dusk Elves did it, and an S-class was involved. Only Medith could order someone like that."

"That backstabbing bitch—!" Gill punched the boulder. The rock shattered with a boom, shards skittering like startled fish. One fragment, the one with the ↑, tumbled into a bottomless ravine and vanished.

O’Neil watched the crucial piece fall and let out a long, quiet breath.