The Secret of the Sanctuary

Ayato woke up in a white room that wasn't his. A tall window was half-open; the city wind rustled the curtains. Tick-tock. The clock on the wall moved slowly, like someone walking through water.

"Good, you're finally bored of sleeping." Ragna leaned against the window frame, a slanted smile on his face, his shirt half-unbuttoned.

Irea sat in a chair, sipping tea. "Four weeks," she said flatly. "If I slept for four weeks, I'd wake up with a broken back."

"Haha, I never thought a forest dweller's back could be so fragile. Maybe you need more exercise?" Ragna teased casually.

"Interesting. Perhaps inhaling too much dirty colosseum dust has shrunk your brain further. How about breathing in the fresh air of the forest instead?" Irea retorted.

"Hoho, interesting," Ragna glared. "It would be even more interesting if I just broke all your brittle bones!"

"I think that would be quite difficult, since someone with a small brain like yours probably couldn't even manage to swing from a tree."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!" Ragna brought his face close to Irea's until their foreheads were almost touching. "Are you saying I'm dumber than a monkey?!"

"I didn't say that, you admitted it yourself."

"Whaaaaaaat?!"

By the bedside, Cielle—in simple lolita attire and blue eyes—sat quietly. Her fingers were laced with Ayato's; a faint resonance touched his pulse: You're finally awake.

Ayato swallowed. His throat was dry. "Four... weeks?"

"More or less." Aurellia appeared with a file. Her hair was neatly tied up; her clear eyes weighed Ayato's face for a moment before softening. "You're safe. But Lys—"

Ayato tried to sit up; Cielle pressed his shoulder gently—not so fast.

Aurellia continued, her voice calm: "Lys disappeared after the Fenrir hunt was over. We've all been looking for her, but she's vanished without a trace."

"All of you?"

Aurellia nodded. "Cielle, Ragna, Irea—myself. Nothing."

Ragna crossed his arms. "If she was hiding on purpose, she'd usually still send jokes via the communication stone. Now... nothing."

Ayato closed his eyes for a moment. The remnants of heat--cold--emptiness in his body shifted towards empty. "Where do you think she went?"

"Sanctuary." Aurellia looked out the window, her voice quiet. "A few days ago, when I visited the Magic Tower. They didn't know where Lys was, but there was an internal message: until I return, follow Aurellia's orders."

She paused briefly. "My last contact with her was a month ago—Lys just said: 'I want to check something in Sanctuary. Alone.' After that, silence. So, if you're asking for my guess... she's likely still there."

The room grew colder. Ayato nodded slowly. "In that case, we need to find her quickly—ugh"

Aurellia smiled briefly—not relieved, but resolute. "We will depart. Rest your body for today and tomorrow."

Ayato turned his head. "Wait. We've only collected four Black Orbs. We don't even have Lys's orb."

Aurellia placed the file on the table. "The Black Orbs aren't the main key to opening Sanctuary," she said softly. "The orbs are the key to releasing the main seal—not opening it. And that seal... has weakened on its own."

She looked at each of them one by one. "Lys tried to add a new seal. But it wasn't strong enough—not effective enough to hold back what's inside."

"What's inside...?" Ragna leaned away from the window frame.

Aurellia took a breath. "Essentially, the Black Orbs are the darkness seeping out from the bodies of the five Demon Kings sealed within Sanctuary."

Silence hung in the air.

Ayato turned slowly. "You—just—"

"—revealed a secret?" Aurellia nodded. "I trust you all enough to hear this."

On the file, she pointed to five small circles surrounding one large circle. "Each Demon King has an orb representing their darkness: The Orb of Hatred, The Orb of Eternity, The Orb of Boredom, The Orb of Imbalance, and The Orb of Apathy."

Ayato froze, a click sounding in his head for a moment—five, the same number as the five legends—then brushed it aside. "Later," he murmured. "Focus on Lys first."

Aurellia nodded. "Right."

Irea raised an eyebrow, looking at Ayato. "Anything else you want to say before we all descend into a hole none of us can see?"

Ayato was silent for a long time. Then he looked at them—Aurellia, Ragna, Irea—and finally at Cielle, who still held his hand.

"I'm from another world," he said softly. The sentence fell like a stone into water. "After gathering three orbs—Ragna's, Irea's, and probably Cielle's too—it... opened something in my head. My mother... the one I strangled. The hobby of running that once saved me from too many things. Longing for my hometown—which I almost never think about here. All of it... came back."

Ragna stared at him for a long time, then his grin dropped half a notch. "Come to think of it, I also thought it was weird when Vin suddenly got up after taking a direct hit from me. Was that because of the Black Orb too?"

"My, my, this is what happens when the owner has a small brain."

"What did you say!?"

Aurellia immediately cut in before Ragna started bickering with Irea again. "I think that's due to something different. Vin has a uniqueness where his mana drastically increases when he's near death. We've seen that several times during our training sessions."

"A-Ah, right. Though I'm not exactly happy to experience it myself."

"However, somehow I feel your mana is very different now compared to before the Fenrir hunt. I think the Black Orbs are resonating with you, Vin."

"Now that you mention it, that makes sense. I haven't experienced mana depletion so far when using my ice and fire."

"That's good then," Aurellia rummaged in her backpack, pulling out a black jewel orb. "Take mine as well, Vin."

Ayato jolted—reflexively reaching out his hand.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. I'm happy enough just seeing your reaction to help Lys after learning she's missing. That's proof of how much trust I place in you."

"Aurellia..."

"And as additional proof, I want you to call me Aurel from now on."

"I get to be called just Ragna as usual!"

"What else would we call you? Desert monkey?" Ragna immediately shoved his face forward, ready to pick a fight. But Irea remained calm. "As for me—feel free, you can even call me Forest Queen again."

Ayato, feeling the grip on his hand tighten slightly, had his attention drawn to the blue-eyed girl.

―Just call me Cielle as usual.

Ayato gave a small nod, having understood Cielle's unique brand of eye communication.

"Alright—Aurel, Ragna, Irea, Cielle. In that case, you can all call me Ayato. Karimura Ayato. Nice to meet you all, once again."

Aurellia... smiled. There was something like—satisfaction—because this openness had finally happened. "Good. Now we're a team."

...

The next day, they prepared supplies—cloaks, spare magic stones for earth/wind, elixirs (Aurellia lifted a medical kit: "don't be reckless, we're down to two"), maps of the route to Sanctuary. Cielle meticulously rearranged the cloth covering her sickle, occasionally glancing at Ayato—have you eaten?—her resonance gentle.

The day after, a cold dawn struck their backs. They departed.

The forest outside the city was like a salon for the wind—the trees combed in one direction. The roads changed: clay, stone, then long grass. The faint metallic scent of Lunareth was now just a memory; here, there was the smell of pine and water.

In the first few days, small monsters came in waves—shadow goblins, shadow wolves. Ragna walked at the front—BLAM!—shattering the first attack with his palm; Ayato nailed their backs with ice spikes and lightly burned their tracks; Irea cleaned up the rest precisely and without a word. Cielle... was silent, making sure the person beside her didn't fall.

One dusk, they stopped on a grassy hill. Ayato reached into his pocket, pulling out a strange flower stalk—a small stem with a gray tip. "Look at this."

SNAP! He lit it with a small flame from his fingernail. Fssst... The stalk glowed like a handheld firework; small sparks dripped without burning. Cielle stared—her blue eyes catching the light, a faint intent touching Ayato's pulse: Beautiful.

"This is just one," said Ayato. "I'm designing a firework spell. If it works, we'll watch from a hill at night. How about it?"

Cielle nodded quickly. Promise.

Another night, Ragna nudged Ayato's shoulder. "Spar tomorrow?"

"Let's run first tomorrow," Ayato replied, eyes narrowing.

"Run? You're challenging me to a race?"

"Without fire," Ayato looked at Ragna's palms.

"Cheap," Ragna muttered, but his smile widened. "Deal."

The next morning, with a thin mist still hanging, they started.

"Three---two---" Ragna raised his fingers, "---one!"

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! The ground pounded under their feet. Ayato fell into his old rhythm—three tight—two loose—letting his lungs borrow the cold. Ragna laughed—Hah!—and unconsciously ignited a faint warmth in his ankles—

"Hey!" Ayato pointed at Ragna's hand without turning his head.

"Reflex!" Ragna extinguished it. "Dammit..."

They crossed the finish line together; Ragna bent over, laughing, hands on his knees. "Okay. Sparring this afternoon. You win the run."

By the campfire at night, Ayato saw Irea sitting a bit far away, her shoulders facing the fire. Her hand was stroking something invisible. Ayato approached slowly.

"Don't be startled," Irea said without turning.

WUFF. From behind her cloak, Fenrir appeared—small, the size of a large dog, his silver fur combed by the wind. Those yellow eyes narrowed lazily as his head was petted.

Ayato stared in surprise. "You... shrank yourself?"

Fenrir glanced at Ayato, his white teeth showing a rarely seen smile. "I can be as large as a forest or as small as a story," he murmured—his voice like snow slowly crumbling.

Ayato patted his own thigh. "In that case—after we find Lys, can I hitch a ride? The three of us can tour Fenlareth."

Irea looked at Fenrir; Fenrir looked back, then yawned. "Why not?" he said.

Irea gave a slight nod. "I'll guide, Fenrir will carry. You bring your fireworks."

Fenrir jerked his chin. "I have a flower garden in part of the forest. You haven't seen it. It smells of honey and snow."

That small promise hung in the air—belonging to the three of them—warm enough to look forward to.

One night, Ayato woke up thirsty. In the distance, Aurellia stood watching the sky. Falling stars were frequent, like shards of glass.

"You should just sleep," Aurellia said without turning.

"I... am watching," Ayato replied.

Aurellia let out a short, almost inaudible laugh. "You know, when I first recruited you, you said you weren't worthy."

Ayato's face grew warm. "Yes. And I'm embarrassed remembering it."

"Good." Aurellia turned, her clear eyes holding back a line of words before releasing them: "Because now, you walk—you don't ask to be dragged along."

"Thank you," Ayato said softly.

"Those are my words. Thank you for your hard work so far."

Ayato nodded proudly. "Yes."

...

Then came the difficult days. The forest stretched out, the land rose and fell like the back of a whale. They encountered monsters more often—stone trolls, flocks of shadow birds, even earth golems that consumed the path. Their coordination became natural:

Ragna took point, pressing forward with heat that made the very woods know where to fall.

Ayato locked the flanks: ice spikes secured footing, fire sterilized paths, earth magic stones filled gaping holes.

Irea and Fenrir cut through the right; Irea's wind sharpened when needed, Fenrir silently froze things from below.

Cielle, silent, intercepted small strikes from outside the frame—not conspicuous, but always at the right moment.

One gray dusk, a cliff cut off the path. Below it, a valley lay like a black bowl. The wind descending carried a smell of sulfur.

"Stop," said Irea.

GROOOWWWWL.

The sound came from the valley, climbing into their bones. A large shadow shifted behind the mist; something raised its head—elongated purple eyes, horns like broken moons.

"A dragon." Ragna smiled crookedly, twisting his wrist—click—the red crystal on the back of his hand glowed. "A new round."

Ayato regulated his breath. Three tight—two loose. He glanced at Cielle—don't let go—Cielle nodded.

Sulfurous breath descended.

The mist split.

BOOOOM!

―And they charged in together.