The City That Worships Light (光を崇める都 / Hikari o Agameru Miyako)

The first thing that hit them was the temperature. Solarii ran hot even when the wind was mild, as if the streets soaked up daylight and pushed it back through your boots. The gates sighed open, and people flowed around the three of them without breaking pace. Everything moved in rhythm. Clerks with tablets. Apprentices in white belts. Vendors with quick hands shape glow and heat to keep food warm and water cool. No one shouted. The city did not need a loud voice to be heard.

A guard captain saw Rei and straightened by instinct. His salute came up sharp. “Commander Kurayami. Welcome home.”

Rei nodded once and walked past. “At ease, soldier. There's no need for that.”

Hajime tilted his head back and whistled. Towers climbed like spears with glass faces that caught the sun and bent it down in sheets. You could see yourself in every direction if you looked long enough. He almost tripped watching the reflection of his own face curve across a building. He caught himself and grinned like he meant to do it.

“Alright,” he said. “I think I get it now. This place wants to be a flashlight the size of a mountain.”

Izumi covered a smile with her hand. “Sounds like you already cracked the code.”

Two little boys on the curb tried to lift a crate with nothing but their hands and determination. The crate refused. Their older sister had the right posture, but not enough output to give the lift shape. Hajime peeled away from the road without a word. He squatted in front of them and tapped the crate with a knuckle.

“What's inside?” he asked.

“Candles,” the older girl said. “For the evening rite.”

“Candles,” Hajime said. “Perfect. I'm your guy.” He slid his palms under the edge and lifted cleanly with legs and back. “Where to?”

The kids gasped for a second at the simple solution. They pointed toward a stall draped with thin banners. Hajime carried the crate over like it weighed air, set it down, then rolled his shoulders with exaggerated relief. “Heaviest candles I have ever seen. You three are lucky.”

The sister tried not to laugh. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” he said. “Remember me when your candle business takes off, okay?”

She cracked up at that and finally let herself bow. Hajime bowed back with theatrical seriousness until she stood up giggling, then he jogged to catch Rei and Izumi.

A line of recruits blocked the street ahead while a trainer watched them shape basic forms. A boy’s blade flickered, wobbled, then broke apart. His hand trembled. The trainer touched his shoulder, adjusted his stance, and said in a quiet voice, “Breathe on the count. Don't make me speak to the council.”

The boy nodded so fast he lost rhythm again. Izumi stepped to the side, out of the way, and watched with her chin lifted a little. She liked how the city made people chase precision. She disliked how it made them scared of mistakes.

Rei took them off the main road onto a wider street where the big work happened. Carts hovered on shallow cushions held steady by teams of porters. Shaping teams kept traffic moving by lifting and lowering lanes so wagons could pass each other without touching. A woman with forearms like marble held a platform aloft with two fingers and a brow furrowed in concentration while her crew repacked boxes that had started to tilt. A toddler tugged at her pants leg. She did not look down. She smiled anyway and said, “One second, star. Mama is holding the floor.”

They crossed into a smaller market ring where stands sold simple things. Rice buns. Paper fans. Thread bracelets that sparked faintly when touched together. Izumi slowed at a stall of seed packets arranged in rows by color. The vendor, an older woman with shoulders like a farmer, looked up and took in Izumi’s face, Hajime’s easy grin, Rei’s cloak, and quiet. She did not call them customers. She did not need to.

“Anything you need for the road?” the woman asked.

“What do you have?” Izumi asked.

The woman huffed a soft laugh. “I specialize in growing seeds that can help with recovery after a battle.”

“I might as well buy them all off of you...” Hajime said. “If I had any money-”

“I'll take a pack of them, please,” Izumi stated.

She obviously was doing this for Hajime, and Rei couldn't help but smirk.

The woman slid an extra packet into her hand. “Thank you.”

Two priests glided past, robes plain, rings at their throats that marked rank rather than wealth. They nodded to Rei, and he nodded back. One of them blinked at Hajime’s bare forearms and the old scars that cut white across tan. Hajime flexed on purpose and gave the priest a tiny smirk. Izumi nudged him in the ribs like a polite assassin. He winced and pretended he didn't do it.

At a water point, a line of citizens waited to draw from a shared basin that glowed at the bottom. The basin stayed full because six attendants stood in a hexagon around it and kept the level even. Every time a jug dipped, the attendants let more current in. They barely moved. It was the kind of work that would turn you into a statue if you were not careful. Hajime slipped into the line, grabbed three cups from the stack, filled them, and handed one to each attendant without asking. “Drink,” he said. “That is an order. From me. The guy who's going to beat up your commander one day.”

One attendant blinked, surprised, then chuckled and drank anyway. The others followed. The line cheered with their eyes, and their throats stayed quiet.

“Thank you,” one said. “We are not supposed to break from our roles.”

“Don't worry about it. We're only human, right?” Hajime asked.

A runner in council livery skidded to a stop when he saw Rei. He bowed, kept his head low, and held out a sealed slip. “Commander. The Council and lords are waiting for you.”

Rei broke the seal and glanced at the lines. “Zebulum?” He folded the note and tucked it into his sleeve. The runner shot away again with a speed that made Hajime respect him on principle.

“Let's talk to Hayate,” Rei said. “Come on.”

“That was the quietest invitation I have ever seen,” Hajime said.

“The Celestine Order's hierarchy is based on power,” Izumi said.

They cut across a courtyard where schoolchildren practiced breath work. The instructor had put chalk circles on the ground, one per child, so they would learn how much space they took and how not to steal more than they needed. A little girl counted her inhale, miscounted, and looked like she might cry. Izumi walked by and lifted a finger, tapping the air on the right beat. The girl matched it and got through her set. She looked up, found Izumi’s eyes, and flashed a gap-toothed grin. Izumi waved back and kept moving.

A vendor tripped when the wheel of his handcart clipped a curb. The cart lurched. A barrel wobbling on the top row started to slide. Hajime reached it first, flipped the barrel to his shoulder, and set it down on the street like it was a pillow. The vendor’s mouth fell open.

“I don't know who you are, but thank you,” the man said.

“Just an ordinary guy like you,” Hajime said.

“What's your name?” the man asked.

“Hajime Takeshi,” Hajime said.

“I'll remember this kindness, thank you,” the man said instantly.

“No problem, anytime,” Hajime said. He gave a solemn bow.

Rei dragged a hand down his face. Izumi patted Rei’s arm like she was calming a very patient dog that loved idiots and suffered them anyway.

They turned up the long road to the Council Quarter. The street widened. The noise dropped but did not vanish. Work changed shape here. You could feel it in the cadence of shoes and the way shoulders squared. Two lines formed on the steps leading into the administrative ring. Petitioners with neat stacks of paper. Field captains with dust on their boots. Scribes who could write a report with their eyes shut and sometimes did.

A young scribe jogged down the stairs, reading a tablet, and hit the railing with his hip. He almost fell into a formal bow when he saw Rei. Rei caught his sleeve and steadied him before the kid pitched over.

“Careful,” Rei said.

“Yes, sir,” the scribe said, mortified. “Sorry. I didn't see you.”

"Next time you'll answer to me... The man who beat Rei's ass," Hajime joked.

Izumi rescued him. “Breathe. Where are you going?”

“Chamber of Records. Delivery. I was told not to drop it.” He held up the tablet like proof.

“You have succeeded so far,” Izumi said. “Don't ruin your streak.”

He nodded fiercely, held the tablet like it was sacred, and jogged away with exaggerated knees to avoid the same rail.

“Do you have to bully the youth?” Rei asked Hajime under his breath.

“I am helping,” Hajime said. “He will remember my humor and then won't die of stress at thirty.”

“That is oddly specific,” Izumi said.

Hajime stared at the big white building above them. “I am a prophet of jokes.”

“Please don't start a religion,” Rei said. “We have enough of them in this world.”

They reached the landing beneath the Council Hall. Guards in pale armor took one look at Rei and pulled the doors. The hall inside held light without being bright. It was the kind of space that made people stand straight even when they were alone. That was probably the point.

A steward in a simple coat waited near the threshold. “Commander Kurayami. The lords are assembled.”

Rei turned to Hajime and Izumi. “Walk with me, and stay close.”

“I feel judged by that instruction,” Hajime said.

“You should,” Izumi said.

They followed the steward across smooth stone that clicked under boots. The chamber at the center was round with a table shaped like a teardrop. Three men stood around it. Not priests. Not politicians. Soldiers of a certain age. Men who had learned to spend their power without throwing it around.

“Commander,” Lord Hayate said. He had the kind of posture that made other people check their own. His eyes were sharp but not cruel. “Welcome back.”

“Lord Hayate,” Rei said. He did not bow. He inclined his head to each in turn. “Lord Raiden. Lord Kazuki.”

Raiden’s face did not give much away. Calm mouth. Calm hands. The kind of calm that scared people when they thought about what it hid. Kazuki had a tired half smile like he lived two hours ahead of everyone else and liked it that way.

Hayate glanced at Hajime and Izumi. Rei moved before anyone could misread the silence.

“These are my allies,” Rei said. “This is Hajime Takeshi. He carries Adam’s Will.” He comes from the small village of Eisenwald. “This is Izumi Rin, former lord of the Verdant Veil. She carries Eve’s Will.”

Raiden’s eyes narrowed a fraction, not suspicious, focused.

Kazuki blinked once, then smiled wider. “You brought interesting friends.”

Hajime set his hand to his chest and gave a neat bow. “Hajime. Sweet place you got here. Solid acoustics. Ten out of ten.”

Izumi bowed with a grace that came from practice. “Thank you for receiving us.”

Hayate’s gaze moved between them and then settled back on Rei. “Are they to be recorded as present?”

“Yes,” Rei said. “If I walk with them, they are present.”

“Understood,” Hayate said. He lifted a small slate and let his finger leave a mark. “Then let's begin.”

The table was not for show. It held three simple pieces. A map with dull marks where activity had spiked in the last week. A sealed pouch. A crystal set in a ring of wood. Raiden tapped the crystal. It pulsed faintly, then went clear again.

“Three days ago, we registered a burst near Zebulum,” Raiden said. “Not a signature we recognize. Hayate was with a squadron attacking the Chainbound Doctrine when it happened. Others reported this phenomenon all around the world.”

Kazuki slid the pouch across to Rei. Rei opened it and lifted a strip of cloth. Burn marks wrote a crooked circle on it with a line through the center. Not a symbol Rei had learned in any official module.

“What's with the cloth?” Hajime asked.

“Scavenged from the scene,” Kazuki said.

Hayate folded his hands on the table. “I'm guessing it belongs to that monster of a kid.”

Hayate’s fingers tightened, just enough for the table’s surface to creak. The room stayed quiet. No one interrupted him. Not even Rei.

Kazuki watched him with the softness reserved for men who had carried bodies home. “Tell us the rest.”

Hayate kept his eyes on the cloth. “My squadron hit Zebulum’s outer ward at dawn. We expected resistance. We always do. The Chainbound forces pulled back faster than usual. We assumed it was a trap.”

Raiden tilted his head. “It wasn't?”

“No,” Hayate said. “It was something else entirely.”

He drew a slow breath. “We reached the lower ward. The air felt wrong. Still, but heavy. Like the moment before a boom of thunder.” His voice thinned for a second, then steadied. “Then that damned light came. A single column. Pale. Silent. It swallowed everything in its path.”

Hajime leaned forward. “Everything?”

Hayate looked him in the eye. “As in everything. Stone. Steel. People. My men. It was like standing in the path of a god exhaling.”

Izumi’s expression turned still. “And you survived because you teleported...”

Hayate gave one small nod. “Instinct. A pulse of Michael’s Will. I can't choose where. I hit a stairwell two streets over, here, in Solarii.”

Kazuki’s hand paused mid-notation.

“Who caused this?” he asked.

“A young boy,” Hayate said. “The day afterwards, I managed to teleport back to Zebulum and pick up any evidence I could find.” He nodded at the cloth.

Raiden folded his arms. “And the boy... Where is he?”

Hayate’s jaw shifted. “I don't know. I want to believe he died in that blast, but I know better than to assume in this profession.”

Hajime exhaled slowly. “What do we do?”

“We need to figure out if this kid is a threat,” Hayate said.

Rei had not moved since the story began. His posture was straight, but the shadow behind his eyes sharpened. “I heard the kid said something. Witnesses mentioned a phrase.”

Raiden tapped the crystal. It glowed faintly. “Light of the Unforgiven.”

Rei blinked once. “He used the word light?”

Hayate nodded. “And the unforgiven... that power isn't recorded on any of our tablets or scrolls in the archives.”

Hajime rested his elbows on the table. Adam stirred inside of him. “I have a bad feeling about this, Hajime.”

Kazuki closed the slate. The sound was light but final. “Then we do what soldiers do. We prepare.”

Rei looked at him. “What do you suggest?”

Hayate answered. “Well, since I had to lead our men, and they all died because you were too busy with these two. I've been itching to settle things the only way we know how.”

Izumi tilted her head. “I'm not sure I agreed to any of this.”

“Look, we three lords against you three. This isn't life or death. We need to become stronger to prepare for the worst,” Hayate said. “I need to know if you two have the resolve to fight the other factions.”

Hajime brightened. “A training match? Hell yeah!”

Raiden cracked the smallest smile. “C'mon, don't get too friendly now, you punk.”

Izumi nodded once. “Three versus three. Let's do this.”

Rei stood in deep thought. The city outside hummed like a person pretending not to panic. “When are we training?”

“Tonight,” Hayate said. “Training ring five. Closed grounds. Let's have an audience. It'll give people some well-needed fun. God knows the people here need it.”

Hajime rubbed his hands together. “I'm so pumped! Can't we do it now?”

Izumi placed a hand on his shoulder with a scary glare. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Help me,” Hajime pleaded to Rei.

Kazuki lowered his voice. “Rei. The boy from Zebulum... he is not a simple anomaly. You know that.”

Rei’s gaze lowered to the cloth. “I know.”

Raiden tapped the crystal once, sealing the record. “Dismissed.”

The steward opened the door. The hall outside carried the soft echo of distant work. Solarii never stopped moving. It never admitted fear.

As they stepped out, Hajime rolled his neck. “Three lords from a new country. If they're anything like Rei, this should be fun.”

Izumi glanced at Rei. “I assume we are not holding back?”

“No,” Rei said. “Don't hold back against these guys. Especially Hayate, he has been at the level of a commander for a long time now. He just hasn't beaten me.”

“And after the training,” Hajime asked.

Rei looked down the long corridor toward the city. “After that, we prepare for enemy territory.”

Izumi tucked the seed packets into her sleeve. “Then let’s move.”

They walked toward the training grounds, the sun dipping behind glass towers that bent the light into long spears across the stone.

And somewhere beneath the chains of that ruined ward in Zebulum, a child with gray eyes whispered to the voice that loved him.

The Ashen King listened back.