Chapter 65 | Master key

Rain and the people's faces were grim as they stood in the control center's hall, within the main fort. Before them lay a headless body, clad in the white tunic unique to the Saint’s followers. Dark burns and frostbite marred the gruesome corpse. A crystal on his chest was charred black and fractured, and his blood had turned a sickly black.

The people in the hall weren’t shocked by the headless figure, instead, they focused on the red witch in the distance. Her aura and the air around her pulsed with heat, distorting everything. Only the Cursed Child remained by her side.

“Lucky for you, you have no head,” Faye declared, breaking the silence as her eyes glowed crimson. “If I’d seen your face, I would have burned you to ashes.”

Knights and members of the holy order readied themselves, their crystals turning red, and some gripped their sword hilts. They glared at her, the image of their burned town still vivid in their minds.

Faye regarded them, her eyes narrowing into vertical slits. “If you have something in your mind, show me your book, and I will dance for you,” she offered, her voice laced with a dark edge.

The knights ground their teeth, and the air grew heavy with their heated breaths.

Clang! A sword tapped against the floor. “Stay calm!” the old saint commanded, his voice echoing through the hall.

Everyone turned to the old saint.

A silver knight spoke, “But Master Rexton, she’s the cause of all this. She burned our town, and many lost their homes.”

A plump minister chimed in, “Yes, yes, our food supplies are dwindling too. The barns and storage were burned, including our preserved food. Will we even survive this long winter?”

"We might have to let all the refugees go, perhaps send them to the Rose Garden. The castle is still in good shape, at this rate, everyone will be dragged down with us. We have to make a sacrifice to save the majority," the Deputy Major added.

Another minister voiced their concerns, and the knight Stilled continued to preach righteousness. Everyone turned on the old saint, demanding answers. But the sorrowful old man remained on the throne, and his three usual companions were missing. He looked like a lonely old man. His face was grim, his wise eyes now clouded. He gazed at his headless grandson and muttered, “Are we cursed? Are we all doomed to die like this…”

Ella sat in her chair and her red-haired follower standing steadfastly behind her. She wanted no part of this, despite being the caretaker of the north and a co-ruler of the fort. But the situation was too localized. She could only remain silent, staring at the corpse and wondering, How did he die like that?

The accusations continued to fly, but the old saint ignored them. Then, a silver knight declared, “She killed our little master Warmund!”

The old man swiftly turned to the knight. “No, he died by his own hand, with no fault of the Great Sage of the north.”

The silver knight’s eyes widened. “How can that be? We all saw her magic turn the mountain to fire. She cornered Master Warmund and caused his death.” He pointed at the charred Warmund’s attire and then at her perfect dress. “Please, Lord Saint Rexton, judge her guilt!”

Everyone nodded, glaring at her.

Faye tilted her head and offered a threatening smile. Her amulet jingled continuously.

The air grew heavy. Breathing became difficult.

But then, a youth stepped forward. His small voice rang out, “Huh, I don’t understand you at all, you should thank her instead?”

Faye smiled at Rain. Her aura returned to normal, and her eyes changed to ruby red.

“Who are you, kid?” the Minister asked. “Go home. This is no place for a child.” He pointed at the exit.

“He-he, don’t be fooled by my looks. You can call me Rain the detective.” He tugged at imaginary glasses.

At the royal pledge ceremony, knights and other important figures acknowledged and recalled his presence, with some openly muttering “Raccoon” and others calling him a “lightweight drink follower.”

Ella looked at him with a piercing gaze and mouthed, “What are you doing.”

Rain winked at her.

The fat minister walked close and pointed. “Kid, don’t play here—”

Muff! Rain grasped his hand and then gave him something. "Yes, yes, we stop playing now. This is a grown-up men's table, serious talk," he stated, the air thick with unspoken meaning.

“Kid—” The Minister wanted to say something, but the item in his hand caught his attention. It was a black ball, but the fragrance made him in awe. “Truffle?”

Rain tapped his shoulder twice and don’t concern of him anymore. He stood before Warmund’s body and touched it. It was cold, cold like eternal night. “An old-style killing. Even his will isn’t here,” he said quietly.

He turned to the old saint. His eyes turned blue. “Marquise Haig of white wagon,” he called him.

Saint Rexton looked at him. The knights were confused. Why was he calling his master by a royal name?

Rain asked, “Do you think that wines which have aged for a long time taste better because of their oldness and sadness? Even the one that kept under the castle was the epitome of beauty.”

Light glinted in the old man’s eyes. “How did you know…?”

Rain smiled. “You still have red blood for the last fight left in you, right? don’t be a grumpy old man. The children will cry, you know? Be strong, we’ll get through this together.” He turned to Ella. “May I offer my perspective, Lady Ella?”

Ella met his gaze, then replied, “Yes.”

Everyone stared at him, bewildered by the sky saint’s trust in him, and the apparent connection to the old saint.

He produced a follower’s badge from his fur coat. “I am Rain, follower of the blue river saint, also a messenger of the princesses. So I’m here to help as a neighborly friend.” He then touched the center table.

Guru, guru, The table rumbled as the rock transformed. A light panel appeared, and his fingers danced across it. The rock morphed into a detailed scene of mountains and a fortified city, revealing detail after detail.

The two saints watched, wide-eyed. Ella remained composed. Old Saint Rexton murmured, “How is that possible? He can use it so easily?” After a moment, he turned to Ella. “You’ve taught him well, Saint Ella.”

Ella paused a moment and then nodded, her eyes fixed on his nimble fingers on the panel. The rock table now displayed White Rey fort, with details of every house and even the fires on the mountain, precisely as they were in the present.

“We don’t have much time,” he said, pointing to the western edge of the outer ring, which was blinking white. “Winter is already here.”

The two saints and the holy orders were stunned.

But the oblivious, portly Minister interrupted, “What are you talking about? We all know winter is already—“

“No, not the falling snow. I mean White Winter of the End Wall, she brings death and is approaching here.” Rain explained.

Creeeak! The heavy throne shifted as two saints rose. “So fast!” Ella exclaimed.

“No, not fast at all,” Rain replied, glancing at Warmund’s body. “Normally, you’d all turn to be staring ghastly white eyes already. She’s delaying, sending a warning first.” Rain’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “See how generously she warns us before attacking? You’re the luckiest people in the world.”

“It’s not real, just an old tale…” the Minister stammered, taking a shaky step toward the stone wall, as if seeking support.

Rain fixed him with a look. “You’ll see the real tale unfold before your eyes. You’ll see how she brings death to your city.”

“That…” Ella began, gazing at Warmund, “Impossible…”

Rain turned to Saint Rexton. “You’ve received the information from the central, haven’t you?”

Ella said “What are you talking—”

“Yes, we just received it,” Saint Rexton confirmed, moving closer to the table. His fingers brushed the cold, smooth surface of the table. A brief image flickered, showing the fallen End Land wall, a white wolf in the foreground, and swirling snow in the sky.

The air was so thick with moisture and the faintest hint of decay, making each breath a struggle. No air, no sound, just the feeling of constricted lungs.

Thud! The Minister collapsed in terror. “Are we going to die?”

Rain turned his head towards a long window. “Aria, what’s the situation on the other side?”

The scent of seawater and coastal flowers filled the air, calming everyone. Aria approached from the window, her presence usually a comfort. But this time, she brought devastating news.

“Thousands…” Aria’s voice was like still water. “Of Death Winter creatures, monsters, sacred fables, and inhuman beings, a mix of three or four tiers, and even… fallen Saints are among them.”

Silence fell over the room.

Ella was stunned, her mind blank. The words ‘fallen Saint’ stiffened her body, causing her to tremble. But a red follower moved closer, his rising temperature offering a small measure of comfort.

“They’re all around us, north and south,” Aria continued, her voice tight. “The stench of death is everywhere.”

Rain nodded and rapped twice on the table. Two small, brick-like stones popped up. He typed on a floating panel for a moment, and the bricks grew larger. He then picked one up and handed it to Aria.

Aria used it as a pencil, sketching on the tabletop terrain. She marked the northern area with a growing red light.

Rain did the same on the opposite side of the table, drawing a red circle in the south. Then, he turned to Saint Rexton, offering him a stone pencil. “Marquise Haig, your plan… you’re using the fort as a battlefield, yes?”

Saint Rexton nodded, circling the inner fortress on the stone map. “Yes. We’ll use the city as a battleground, generating as much heat and light as possible to combat the fear.”

Ella asked, “Why don’t we fight outside? It would minimize the damage to the city.”

Rain shook his head. “This isn’t a military fight, Ella. Outside the town, there’s no light. If we venture out too far, fear will consume us, and the game will shift to Reversi. We have to stay within the town and play a game of tic-tac-toe for as long as we can.”

Ella’s eyes widened. “That… you taught me how to play that.”

"Exactly, we have to lock them inside the light." Rain said. "If not, half the people will fall to the darkness, and something even more dangerous will arise. It'll be ugly when you have to point a sword at your friend."

Ella’s gaze fell upon Aria, whose icy blue eyes seemed to radiate a dangerous energy, before returning to her surroundings.

"But don't worry, we've sealed off the most dangerous paths. We're in control of this." Rain assured them.

Saint Rexton stared at the table, then at the fire on the mountains. “Fire…” He turned, gazing at Faye’s red eyes and Rain’s blue ones, both shining as they smiled at him. He murmured, “It blocks the monsters’ paths…”

“See? You should thank her instead,” Rain said. “It cuts off the most vulnerable parts of the city. The monsters and the Winter cannot climb or jump from that western side, so no sudden attacks.” Aria tossed the pencil back. He caught it and drew a red line, blocking off the fire areas. “This fire wall alone clears your two major problems at once, White Wagon. Your Rexton legacy is safe, and your white town is safe as well. Anger is being replaced with fear, right? And the bricks that burn will become stronger. The town can be rebuilt if we have the will, correct?”

“Yes… that’s right.” Rexton said, White Light felt a surge of energy, with color returning to his heart and face. He moved to the end of the table. “So, we only block the west gate and let them flow in. South to North, and we can control Fear easily.”

Rain nodded. “Smart as always, White Wagon,” he said, knocking on Saint Rexton’s gauntlets. “We’ll create five lines of glass and make them disappear like morning puke.”

“Ha ha ha, that sounds good, I like it.” He knocked back, his face brightening. “This plan is better.” They continued dividing the town into a ten-by-ten grid. With two people and four hands, they drew lines, creating rectangles and moving blocks, a maze-like design, but using the town, and forts instead.

When finished, Saint Rexton tapped the table, and light illuminated, forming walls of light and leading roads to the center fort. Then he looked at the child. “And most importantly, the hair of the dog?”

Rain touched Saint Rexton’s shoulder, “Hair of the dog.”

Ella asked, confused, “What? Who? Dog?”

“Ha ha ha, good, good.” He looked at Rain with a smile. “May I know your name, little friend?”

“Ho ho, you ask my name, right?” Rain smiled. “I’m Rain the candy mug. I don’t drink, but I know how to get drunk on sweet freezes. So, don’t worry about finding someone to sit and talk with.” Rain said, hands on his waist, laughing out loud.

Saint Rexton joined him. “I like your name, Rain the Candy Mug, that’s a good name, ha ha ha.” They both laughed, seemingly oblivious to anyone else in the room.

Ella, utterly bewildered, turned to Rave. “Sir Ravie, what are they talking about, and what are they doing?”

Rave shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss, I can’t help you with this. I don’t understand this drunken language. My sister would be better at this.”

Ella’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to the far blue saint.

Aria noticed Ella’s attention, but she also shook her head, offering no information. So Ella looked to her last hope, the Red Witch. But something was off. She stared at Rain without blinking, her star-like eyes softened as she touched her face. She looked like a woman who’d found precious gems. “What’s happening to her—”

“Ella!” Rain called out.

Ella spun around, and Rain was already right next to her, too close. She quickly pushed his hand away. “I told you, it’s not appropriate—”

Rain grabbed her hands. “Can you be my master key?”

“What!?” Ella exclaimed.

“I need you to open all the storage!” he said clearly. “We’re throwing a party.”

“Haaaaaaaaaa, what the hell, Raccoon,” Ella said, abandoning any pretense of formality.