27. A quiet stride

"Waaaahhhh!!!"

A sharp, desperate cry pierced the silence, dragging Seiito from the fragile grasp of sleep.

His eyes fluttered open, and with a weary sigh, he turned toward the source.

The wolf girl—Azusa—had awakened.

"Papa! Papa!!"

Her voice cracked as she clung to her father's lifeless body, shaking him in a desperate attempt to wake him. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her anguish raw and unrestrained.

Seiito remained still, watching in silence. The sight struck a painful chord. It reminded him of Saka—how she had crumbled after taking her first life. The shattering of innocence. The helplessness of loss.

He exhaled quietly before rising, stepping toward her with deliberate care. Kneeling beside her trembling form, he placed a gentle hand on her head.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Azusa flinched at his touch, snapping her head toward him. Her crimson hair bristled, and her fangs bared in a feral snarl. Claws gleamed in the dim light as she raised her hand to strike.

"Human!" She spat, her voice laced with fury.

Seiito remained still, his expression unreadable. Beneath his calm, irritation simmered. He had seen this reaction before—blinded by grief, people often forgot who was friend and who was foe.

"Your father asked me to take care of you," He said, his voice steady but firm.

Azusa's hand froze mid-air. "Lies... LIES! My father would never ask a human for anything!" She trembled, her eyes gleaming with hatred.

Wordlessly, Seiito retrieved his Status Plate, holding it up. The engraved symbols pulsed faintly, glowing in the dim light.

Azusa's breath hitched. "You... you're a Lord?"

"That's right." Seiito's voice was low. "His last request was for me to take care of you."

A heavy silence fell between them. Azusa's grief-clouded mind struggled to process his words. Her gaze returned to her father's face—serene, as if even in death, he had found peace.

"Papa...dear papa..." she whispered, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She buried her face in his chest, sobs wracking her small frame. Each tear that fell seemed to deepen the tragedy of his lifeless expression—like a man who had finally escaped the world's cruelty.

Seiito clenched his fists. My Heal wasn't enough...Damn it all.

If only he had the power to revive the dead. But no matter how much strength he amassed, it was never enough. He was still Seiito—weak, unable to save those who mattered.

His jaw tightened. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his lip, frustration burning within him.

After a moment, he rose and turned toward the hut's entrance. "I'll wait outside."

Azusa gave no response—only the sound of her quiet sobs filled the space.

Stepping into the open air, Seiito surveyed the ruined village. Bodies littered the streets—men, women, children—all torn from life in a brutal massacre. The stench of blood and burnt flesh clung to the wind. The only survivor was the girl now weeping inside.

Even Seiito—hardened by the endless torment of the World Tower—couldn't stop the sorrow that gnawed at his chest. Anger simmered beneath his calm exterior, a question burning in his mind: What was the point of such needless slaughter?

He reminded himself: Humans at war with Demons. Demi-humans…nothing but collateral damage.

A voice, soft yet steady, pierced the silence.

"Mr. Lord… will you help me bury my father?"

Seiito turned. Azusa stood in the doorway, her small frame trembling, her swollen eyes pools of grief. But within them, past the sorrow, flickered a fragile flame of resolve.

"…Yeah," he said gently. "Let's do that."

He found a torn blanket and wrapped her father's body with quiet reverence. As they stepped outside, Azusa's gaze fell upon the devastation. Her eyes locked on the charred remains of her best friend—and her body betrayed her. She doubled over, retching violently, face contorted in horror.

Seiito lowered the corpse carefully onto the ground and moved to her side. He knelt, resting a steadying hand on her shoulder. A soft golden glow pulsed from his palm, easing her nausea.

"Take your time," he murmured.

Azusa wiped her tears with a trembling hand, forcing herself to breathe. "Over there," she whispered hoarsely, pointing to a quiet patch of earth.

Seiito nodded. "Alright."

"Want me to make the grave?" he asked softly.

She shook her head, her voice fragile but firm. "No… let me do it."

He respected her wish. While he carried her father's body with care, she knelt in the dirt, clawing into the earth with her bare hands.

Minutes turned into an hour. Her nails cracked, her palms bled, dirt caked her skin, but she never faltered. Each handful of soil was an act of love, of defiance against despair. At last, when the pit was deep enough, her voice broke the silence.

"…I'm done."

Seiito lowered her father gently into the grave. Despite the walls he had built around his own heart, he couldn't help but feel a quiet admiration for her—the raw devotion etched into every motion.

"Any last words?" he asked softly.

Azusa knelt at the edge, her lips trembling. "Thank you, papa… for everything. For giving me life. For loving me. For making me who I am…"

Her tears soaked into the fabric of his burial shroud. For a fleeting moment, it looked as though her father wept with her.

Seiito stared into the grave, memories stirring like ghosts. His mother's face rose in his mind. Was she grieving his disappearance? Had she broken under the weight of his absence?

"…Mother…" he whispered, the word escaping before he realized it.

"Mr. Lord?" Azusa's voice pulled him back. Her eyes were pleading, though steadier now. "Can you…help me?"

Seiito exhaled. "…Yeah."

He raised his hand, and the earth shifted, cascading gently over the body. The grave filled in silence, until only a mound of fresh soil remained—solemn, quiet, eternal.

Azusa bowed her head. "Thank you, Mr. Lord."

"It's Seiito," he corrected. "Not Mr. Lord."

Azusa hesitated. "...Seiito-sama."

When the burial was complete, Seiito searched the remains of the village, gathering what little he could for Azusa. Among the remnants, he found a pendant hidden in a drawer from her barely standing hut. An ancient symbol was etched into the metal—the unmistakable mark of the Crimson Wolves.

Azusa's crimson hair shimmered under the moonlight, a perfect reflection of her bloodline.

"So... she really is the last Crimson Wolf," Seiito murmured, gripping the pendant tightly.

He returned to Azusa, handing her both the pendant and her father's sword. "Here."

She accepted them in silence, fastening the pendant around her neck and securing the sword at her waist.

"So... what now?" she asked softly, her voice devoid of emotion. "Where are we going, Seiito-sama?"

Seiito's gaze darkened. "I'm going to conquer every World Tower, defeat every Lord...and eventually open up Celestia."

Azusa's eyes widened. "C-Celestia? The realm of Gods?"

"That's right," Seiito said without hesitation. "I'll reshape this world—no matter what it takes."

Azusa hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes. Why had her father entrusted her to someone like him?

Seiito turned his gaze toward the road. "First things first... where exactly am I?"

"This village is near the border between Gorkazur and Santizimo," Azusa murmured. "The border is about two hours away."

"Any nearby cities?"

"Morikawa. About four or five days from here."

"Then that's our destination. I can't return to Santizimo."

Azusa frowned. "Why not?"

"Because Lords like me...are considered Heretics in human cities. If they discover who I am, they'll hunt me down, seal me in a World Tower—or worse."

Azusa's expression twisted in disgust. "Ugh...I hate humans even more—" she stopped abruptly, sneaking a glance at him. "I-I mean—"

Seiito gave her a sidelong glance. "Hmm?"

"N-not you, Seiito-sama! I don't hate you!"

"I get it."

The conversation ended there, and they resumed their walk toward Morikawa.

Azusa slightly turned back, watching her village ablaze, crumbled, destroyed, in utter ruins... clogging her heart once more. Her dear friends were all slaughtered; her favorite flower shop was gone too; all the villagers that took care of her were dead; her childhood memories... taken from her.

Her innocence was snatched.

Her weeping continued in silence.

For a long while, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them.

Night arrived; Seiito made a bonfire, pulled out sleeping bags from his inventory given by Irene, and gave one to Azusa, who immediately went to sleep.

Seiito watched over her, letting her grieve in peace.

Two days passed just like this, almost no interaction, just silence, until one afternoon, Azusa finally spoke to him, albeit reserved.

Azusa broke the silence. "Say, Seiito-sama..."

Seiito turned toward her, his expression attentive but neutral. "What's on your mind?"

"How did you end up here? A Lord appearing randomly..."

The question stirred a flood of memories—unpleasant ones. Seiito exhaled sharply, tilting his gaze toward the sky, as if searching for solace in the endless abyss above.

He began recounting his journey.

Being dragged into this world against his will as a so-called Hero. The sheer terror of his first real battle—a monstrous centipede, jaws snapping, his death almost certain. The endless descent into the World Tower, a prison that devoured time and hope. Isolation. Torture. The crushing weight of loneliness.

Days stretched into months. Months twisted into an unending nightmare.

His worst loss, his first real love, Irene...

Azusa listened in silence, her golden eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I didn't know... I'm sorry, Seiito-sama," she whispered, guilt heavy in her voice.

"Don't worry about it," Seiito replied, dismissing it with a small shrug. But the weight of those memories refused to fade. They were scars, buried deep. "If anything, it just makes me more determined to get stronger."

A flicker of doubt tainted his words.

"After all... I'm a Lord now."

A flash of Irene's face swept across his mind.

A thought brewed, and he glanced at her. "I think I could make you a Lord too."

Azusa nearly jumped out of her skin. "You can make me a Lord?!"

Seiito nodded. "Theoretically, yeah. But I won't."

Her tail stopped wagging. "Why not?"

"You're just a kid."

"I'm fifteen!" she huffed.

"Exactly," Seiito sighed deeply. "Just a kid."

Azusa scowled. "You don't look much older than me!"

His expression softened slightly. "If I made you a Lord, you'd have a bounty on your head. I promised your father I'd protect you. That's not a burden I'm willing to put on you."

Azusa crossed her arms, clearly frustrated. "Fine… but what if I get strong enough to become a Lord on my own?"

Seiito considered her words carefully. His gaze turned thoughtful.

"If you prove yourself… in the future..." A pause. Then, with a small nod, he said, "Sure. I'll make you a Lord."

"YES!!" Azusa howled in delight, bouncing in place like an excited pup.

"Geez…" Seiito muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.

And then—

A sharp crack split the air.

Before them, space itself fractured, the tear shimmering like a sky filled with stars and swirling galaxies. A suffocating pressure radiated from the rift, primal and menacing.

Seiito's instincts screamed.

Without thinking, he grabbed Azusa and leapt back just as the rupture expanded.

BOOM!

The ground trembled beneath them. From the abyss of the tear, something slithered into existence—a monstrous shadow creeping into the world.

Azusa gasped. Her voice came out in a horrified whisper.

"A—A Calamity!?"

Seiito's pulse quickened. His grip tightened around Azusa.

"So this… is a Calamity?"

Emerging from the rift was a demonic-looking spider, unlike anything he had ever seen.

Its obsidian-black exoskeleton shimmered, veins of molten lava pulsing beneath its armored hide. Eight spindly legs moved with eerie fluidity, their jagged ends glinting like razors. The air itself warped from the heat radiating off its body.

It was alive—no, it was hunger incarnate.

Azusa took a step back, her entire body trembling. "A Calamity Spider…?! Seiito-sama, we need to run! RUN!!"

Seiito smirked, his blood thrumming with exhilaration.

"Run?" His brown eyes burned with anticipation. "Why would I run? It only looks terrifying."

Even so, Seiito knew best not to underestimate that thing; it gave a sense of intense danger, and he could even see his hair rising.

Azusa gawked at him. "W-WHAT?!"

Seiito released her, stretching his arms. "Fine, run away, future Lord. I'll handle this."

The jab made Azusa bristle. Her pride clashed against her survival instincts. Would she really run away? Leave Seiito to fight alone?

She clenched her fists.

Seiito grinned, cracking his knuckles. A golden glow flickered to life around his fists as he activated his magic.

"[Divine Smite]."

His Heal magic surged through his hands, intertwining with divine power. The energy shimmered like liquid sunlight, sparks dancing as he punched his palm.

WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

The air shattered with an earsplitting scream.

Seiito winced, covering his ears. The spider vanished—teleporting through a new rift in space.

His body tensed. Could it move freely through dimensional cracks? That made things—

SPLISH!

A glob of molten lava spat out from the void.

Seiito barely registered it before—

SHHHK!

The lava struck his coat, instantly igniting it.

"Ghhhhhht?!"

Azusa let out a terrified shriek as she watched the flames devour him, spreading like a hungry beast.

But—

"[Heal.]"

A golden aura surged around Seiito, divine energy counteracting the deadly flames. With a defiant roar, he tore the burning fabric away and stomped out the embers, emerging unharmed.

He turned to Azusa, flashing a smirk. "So? Future Lord, will you help me or cower and hide?"

Azusa's breath hitched. His words stung, pricking at her pride.

Her fists trembled.

Then—

She growled.

"I am…a Crimson Wolf—the last of my kind," she declared. "I will fight, okay?! SO SHUT UP!!"

She dropped into a battle stance. Her nails elongated, turning into deadly, razor-sharp claws.

Seiito grinned. "That's more like it."

He cracked his neck, shifting his focus back to the battlefield.