CHAPTER FIFTEEN ⎯ THE OUTCASTS

The sharp Akaram wind bit against Mika’s lungs as she jogged back to her companions. Three gunshots cracked across the mountain pass, echoing through the still air until silence reclaimed the peaks.

A Tiger Beast collapsed into the snow, two clean holes in its skull.

Kazuo whistled low. "Nice shot!"

Shinji lowered his pistol, the barrel smoking faintly. His expression didn’t change, but even Guy had to admit the man’s precision was impressive — perhaps too perfect. Guy, stoic as ever, exhaled quietly, pushing down the grudging respect that stirred in his chest.

Kazuo clapped Guy on the back, nearly knocking him forward. "You can relax, brother! You’re one of us now! Right, Mika, darling?"

No answer. Kazuo turned, grin faltering. "Mika, darling? Now, where’s that girl wandered off to?"

A few metres ahead, Mika knelt by the fallen beast. The sunset cast her in molten gold as she murmured a brief prayer for the creature’s soul. Then, with silent efficiency, she drew her knife and began cutting through the thick pelt. The smell of blood and iron rose sharply, but she didn’t flinch. When she finished, she wrapped the meat in cloth and tucked it into her pack.

“This should last us until evening,” she said, returning to them, wiping her hands clean. The air shimmered with heat, the mountains breathing waves of warmth that clung to her skin. “Though I quite like the view, the sun’s getting unbearable.”

“Tell me about it,” Kazuo groaned. “At this rate, I’ll melt into the dirt. Wish I was back in the Northern Regions. It’s colder there—better food, prettier women… right, Shinji?”

Shinji grunted. “Go back, then.”

Kazuo smirked. “Touchy.”

Mika tilted her head. “What’s the North like?”

“Didn’t he tell you?” Kazuo blinked, genuinely surprised. When she shook her head, he sighed. “Figures. The Prince of White Wolves hates the one who rules up there more than he hates cold baths.”

Mika chuckled under her breath. Kazuo continued, more animatedly now. “Still, it’s not all bad—the Northern Prince commands the Black Raven Clan. They’re genius craftsmen, and their transport system’s a sight to behold.”

“Transport?” Guy raised an eyebrow.

“Eagles, mate. Great, enormous ones that can carry men through the clouds. The first time I saw one, I thought the sun had fallen from the sky.”

Mika smiled faintly, her gaze distant. “I hope I get to see them one day.”

Hours later, dusk embraced the valley. They reached a lively town tucked between stone ridges, its streets glowing beneath rows of lanterns. Shinji found them lodging in a reputable inn, its polished wood interior gleaming under warm candlelight. After a long day’s trek, the scent of roasted fowl and spices from the dining hall was heavenly.

They ate heartily, the conversation light and teasing — for once. When it ended, Shinji handed Mika a ticket.

“We leave for the City of Eden at dawn. Don’t oversleep.”

Mika smiled. “Understood.”

Her room was modest but clean. Eager for a proper wash, Mika carried her toiletries to the inn’s hot spring. Steam curled around her as she undressed and sank into the water, sighing deeply. The warmth seeped into her muscles, washing away fatigue. For the first time in days, her thoughts wandered freely—to her companions, their strange camaraderie, and the lingering ache of not knowing who she truly was.

***

Meanwhile, in the men’s shared bedroom, Shinji sat against his bed, quietly flipping through a local newspaper while Guy and Kazuo played a round of chess at the table.

Kazuo leaned forward, brow furrowed. “You’re cheating.”

Guy smirked. “You just don’t like losing.”

“Losing? Bah! I let ya win so you wouldn’t cry later.”

“Sure you did.”

Kazuo groaned, falling back dramatically. “I swear, I was a warrior in a past life, not some blasted scholar.” He grabbed a glass of water and downed it in one go.

“You drink more water than a desert camel,” Shinji muttered without looking up.

Kazuo glared. “And you, Prince, were the one who finished our entire water supply in the mountains. Remember that?”

“Whoever did it deserves to be shot,” Shinji replied dryly.

Kazuo threw his hands in the air. “Unbelievable!”

Guy chuckled quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Anyway,” Kazuo said, lowering his voice, “that guy at the front desk was staring at Mika for way too long. Think he recognised a Spirit when he saw one?”

Shinji flipped a page, unbothered. “What about it?”

“What about it?! He could sell us out to the first Luyas Knight who walks through that door!” Kazuo hissed. “You really wanna explain to an angry mob why there’s a Spirit girl in their town?”

Guy nodded. “He has a point. It would complicate things.”

Shinji set the paper aside, his patience thin. “I paid him enough to keep his mouth shut.”

“How much is enough?”

“Enough.”

Kazuo crossed his arms, unimpressed. “You think throwing coins solves everything, huh?”

“It does when you throw enough of them.”

Guy sighed. “He has a point there too.”

The exchange quieted for a moment. Then Kazuo grinned mischievously. “Well, since everyone’s calm now, maybe I should check on Mika. See if she’s—”

A table lamp flew across the room and shattered at his feet. Shinji didn’t even look up.

Kazuo froze. “I was kidding! I was just gonna make sure she’s got towels!”

Guy looked up from the chessboard, eyes dark and eerily calm. “You often call her darling. I do hope you haven’t touched her inappropriately.”

Kazuo turned pale. “What?! No! I wouldn’t!”

“Because if you did,” Guy said quietly, standing, “the consequences would be… very unfavourable.”

Shinji chuckled behind his newspaper. “You two are exhausting.”

Kazuo groaned, slumping into a chair. “This is why I need a drink.”

***

Steam billowed from the hot spring as Mika stepped out, refreshed and calm.

When she finally emerged, she dressed simply—a white shirt, dark trousers, and the red cap and cheap glasses Shinji had insisted on. The disguise felt silly but had proven effective.

From the landing, she paused to glance outside. The street below was still and silver-lit beneath the moon. A boy stood there — cloak, red cape, worn jacket. His aura thrummed like an echo of something ancient.

Mika’s hand tightened around the railing. The pull of his presence was magnetic, wrong, and familiar all at once.

The boy lifted his head. Their eyes met. Then he smiled and vanished into the shadows.

Mika’s breath hitched. She hesitated only a second before following him into the night.

The streets were deserted. Twenty minutes of shadowing the figure proved what she already knew — he wasn’t human. His movements were too fluid, too precise. Every turn seemed deliberate, guiding her deeper into the outskirts.

Finally, he stopped before an abandoned mansion looming beneath the moon. Cracked windows and rusted gates made it look like a corpse of stone.

Mika crouched behind a tree. Her breath fogged in the cold air.

“Of all places… really?” she muttered. “Guy would love this.”

The boy raised his arms, chanting softly—words she recognised.

“Maine!”

The ground trembled. Symbols flared to life on the stone, revealing a hidden door. The boy turned, his mismatched eyes—gold and brown—catching the light. He smirked and slipped inside.

Mika’s pulse spiked. That word—that language. Ancient Aspanian. The sacred tongue of the Spirits. She entered after him.

The passageway was narrow, lined with crumbling stone and flickering torches. Laughter echoed ahead—childlike, yet strange. Mika slowed, hand on her blade. The air felt heavy, thick with residual magic.

The door at the end creaked open by itself. Light flooded her eyes.

The basement was vast and cluttered with remnants of a forgotten world. Blankets patched with old flags, broken chairs turned into thrones, and crude drawings littered the walls.

Children, at least ten of them, turned their heads toward her. Some with pointed ears, others with streaks of iridescent colour in their hair or eyes.

At the centre sat the boy, relaxed on a pile of crates like a makeshift throne. Without his cape, he looked younger — a teenager with unruly brown-blonde hair and sharp eyes that glimmered with mischief and defiance.

“Took you long enough. Welcome to our little haven. I’m Rom.”

“You knew I was following you?”

“Course I did. Can’t stalk the best sensor alive and not get noticed,” Rom said smugly.

A younger boy beamed at him. “Told ya she’d come!”

Rom tousled the boy’s hair. “This’s Toma. My brother.”

Mika took in the scene — ragged clothes, hollow cheeks, and hopeful eyes. Children, all of them, living ghosts of a forgotten war.

Rom’s gaze swept over her appraisingly. “Not bad,” he murmured.

Mika glared. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled. “Relax, sweetheart. Just making an observation.” Then, turning to his crew, he declared, “This lovely lady’s going to help us escape this dump.”

The room erupted in cheers. Questions flooded toward her.

Mika raised a hand. “Hold on — what exactly are you asking me to do?”

Rom leaned forward. “Simple. Be our chaperone to the City of Eden. Kids can cross borders without papers, but they need an adult. You play the big sister, we get through.”

Mika crossed her arms. “And if I refuse?”

Rom’s grin faded. “Then you go back to your human friends, pretend they don’t see you as a monster, and wait for them to prove me right.”

Her glare sharpened. “They trust me.”

“Trust is fragile. Break it once, and it never mends.” He stood, his eyes glinting. “We’re the same, sweetheart. Unwanted. Forgotten.”

Mika stayed silent, the truth of his words biting deeper than she liked.

A smaller boy spoke, trembling. “My grandpa said humans started the war. They took the Spirit Princess.”

Mika’s breath hitched. A sharp pain stabbed behind her eyes. Flash — fire, screams, a blinding light. Her heart raced.

Rom noticed. His tone softened. “You all right?”

“Tell me more,” she whispered.

The boy nodded. “There was a light. A strange light on the Red Line battlefield. The Spirits vanished—gone. Humans said they won, but they lied. My family hid for years. No one came to help us. The Spirit Royals forgot us.”

Rom’s voice hardened. “We were the ones left behind. Half-bloods. Mistakes. When humans found us, they burned everything.”

Mika’s fists trembled. She swallowed the lump in her throat. The truth pressed on her—ugly, ancient, and unbearably real.

“If you could return to the Spirit World... Would you?” She asked softly, almost hesitant.

Rom’s lips curled in a bitter smile. “Never. The Spirits abandoned us. The humans hunted us. The only place left is Eden.”

Silence stretched. Then, finally, Mika straightened her back. “I’ll take you there.”

Gasps rippled through the children.

Rom’s eyes gleamed. “Knew you had it in you. Terms?”

“Three,” she said. “First: I’m not staying in Eden. I’ll see you safe, then leave. Second: you tell me everything—truth, not stories. Third: you obey my orders. No arguments.”

Rom laughed. “Deal.”

The children cheered. Mika managed a small smile, though her gaze remained heavy.

For now, Mika had made her choice.