Lina stroked Peggy with an aching heart, her touch as light as dew. Peggy’s injuries had steadied, yet her mind lay dim, pain buried like thorns beneath snow.

These days fell like stones, heavy and cold. She was just a girl, newly of age in the human world, a sapling under sudden storm.

If she wakes and hears of Melia, I don’t know if her flame can bear that ice.

“What’s… your name?” Rita hugged her legs, face tucked into her knees, peering through a narrow gap like a timid sparrow at the boy.

He hesitated, voice soft as wind through reeds. “A name’s just a tag. Call me Nameless.”

“Nameless?” Rita echoed, puzzled. She cradled the hyacinth with careful hands, wrapping it in magic like frost around a bloom.

For Rita, it was the last paper lantern in a gale, the only fantasy that Melia still lived.

“Aren’t you… angry?” Nameless tested the waters, his words like stones skipping. “If it were me, I’d rush my enemies, consequences be damned—a wildfire in dry grass.”

Nameless glanced past the cordon, at the Kuso members pacing like wolves behind a fence, old memories rising like smoke.

Lina’s gaze went deep, the weariness pooling as she leaned on Rita’s shoulder—a lake after storm. “I don’t know why. Seeing Medith, something cleared… like fog lifting.”

“I think we’ve all been used. It’s too neat, too abrupt—threads pulled, a chessboard already set, every move counted.”

A snowflake turned avalanche, and here we are.

Us… does spilling each other’s blood mean anything? Or are we just grinding ash in the rain?

“Sis?! They killed over five hundred from the guild. Sister Melia died because of it. How can you be this calm?!” Rita’s pain cracked like porcelain; tears fell again, warm rain on stone.

Lina’s face was stone-calm; she had already wept. Now clarity mapped the lines—root to branch—so sharply it stung.

“This isn’t as simple as the skin of it. We lost many, yes. They lost plenty too—two scales both heavy.”

Sister Melia’s sacrifice wasn’t empty. Their S‑class, Pharaoh, died with her. Their vice leader, Gus, lost an arm—cost carved in bone.

Even Medith ended up like this. By reason, I have a ledger of reasons, ten thousand in ink, to hate them.

But why do I feel they’re pitiful too? Winter sparrows, shivering on a wire.

Nameless’s eyes burned bright, twin embers. He looked up at the blood moon, a red coin hung in black. “Maybe… you’ve evolved.”

“Evolved? I don’t think that’s a good thing…” Lina held Peggy close, thoughts sinking like a stone into deep water.

…

Medith slipped upward unhindered, two floors from the rooftop. A broad hall opened—air cold as steel, weapons resting like sleeping serpents, fences raised like ribs for training or duels.

Haywood stood alone in the center, a monolith. Behind him, the only path to the sky. Medith held Bloodsword, face white as frost; his mountain bulk pressed on her like nothing at all.

“You’re Haywood, right? You and Cecilia are close. When Gill encircled my guild, you didn’t move. You’ve watched this all from the sidelines.”

“For that reason, I won’t kill you. I’ll say it once. Move.” Her words fell like the flat of a blade, and she stepped in.

Sorrow lined Haywood’s face; his voice rang like a bell across stone. “It’s not what you think. You didn’t kill Herbert. We both know that better than anyone. How did it become this?”

He looked caught in vines, tangled in a hundred knots.

Medith’s eyes stayed indifferent, as if the wind spoke nonsense. “It’s come to this. Right or wrong is ash now. Gill must die. That’s all.”

His massive frame shifted; the floor trembled like a drum. “As you said, it’s come to this. I have my stance. Gill isn’t the monster you think. Cecilia will find the truth.”

“You still don’t get it?” Medith flickered like a blade of light, her swing aimed at his rock-hard chest. Haywood’s fists blackened, scales rippling like midnight armor, and he met her strike.

Medith frowned, drawing the greatsword up. She spun, vaulted over him, and chopped down like a hawk. Haywood’s giant body flashed aside, a bear turning nimble.

Medith hooked the blade free from its bite in the floor. “It’s not about right or wrong now. We need a clean ending—cut the knot.”

Resolve settled on Haywood; he nodded, heavy and firm. “I know. You’re the one Cecilia likes. So… I’ll hold back. I’ll try not to let you die.”

Medith’s lips curled with a wicked edge; her eyes sparked like flint. She swung Bloodsword, hunger in her motion. “Then come!”

Boom—Haywood blasted off, leaving a crater three centimeters deep, a cannon from earth. He lunged to grapple, arms like falling towers.

Medith flashed past his grab, her cut drawing toward his chest like a red line. Haywood tore up a slab of floor, hurled it like a comet. Medith shattered the rock, shards hissing. At the same time, his elbow scythed across the air.

She had read it before it came. A slip to the side, her greatsword skimming his chest. No flesh parted—just the harsh shudder of metal on metal, sparks raining.

Haywood seized the opening and hammered a punch at her like thunder. Medith raised her blade on instinct, yet the impact slammed her ten meters back, tumbling like scattered leaves before she scraped to a stop.