The night had softened Crestfall.

  Lanterns glowed warmly along the streets, hanging from iron hooks and wooden posts, their amber light spilling across stone roads that only days ago had been empty with fear. Music drifted lazily through open windows. Somewhere, laughter echoed—unforced, genuine.

  Akitsu Shouga leaned against a low railing near the central market square, watching Lemon struggle to climb onto a vendor’s table.

  “Careful,” Akitsu muttered. “You fall, I’m not picking you up.”

  “I do not fall,” Lemon replied indignantly, wobbling. “Gravity simply negotiates with me aggressively.”

  Rhen Calder snorted, arms folded. “You say that every time.”

  A group of street musicians nearby struck up a faster tune. Someone clapped along. A pair of children danced clumsily in the open square, nearly colliding with passersby.

  “…Hard to believe this place was a slaughterhouse a week ago,” Rhen said quietly.

  Akitsu didn’t look away from the lantern-lit streets. “Cities forget fast. People don’t.”

  Lemon finally succeeded in climbing the table and struck a proud pose. “I have acquired baked goods.”

  “You stole those,” Rhen said flatly.

  “They were unlabeled,” Lemon replied. “Thus morally abandoned.”

  Akitsu sighed. “I should’ve left you in the forest.”

  They wandered aimlessly afterward—through narrow streets and open plazas, past taverns spilling warm light and voices into the night. Someone recognized Rhen and bowed. Someone else offered drinks. Akitsu declined everything, content to observe.

  For once—

  Nothing felt wrong.

  No pressure behind the eyes. No tightening in the chest. No whispers crawling along his thoughts.

  “…Enjoy it,” Rhen said, as if reading him. “You’re allowed to.”

  Akitsu didn’t answer.

  Far away—

  At the eastern edge of the kingdom—

  Winter arrived without warning.

  The East District gate stood tall and open beneath torchlight, guards relaxed but vigilant, spears resting casually against stone. The night air was cool—pleasant.

  Then it dropped.

  Breath fogged instantly.

  Frost crept along the iron gate hinges in seconds.

  “—What the hell?” one guard muttered, rubbing his arms.

  Footsteps echoed.

  Slow. Even. Unhurried.

  A figure approached from the road beyond the walls—dark-cloaked, head tilted slightly downward. No visible insignia. No cart. No companions.

  “Halt,” a guard called out. “State your business.”

  The figure stopped.

  The air screamed.

  Absolute zero detonated outward—not as an explosion, but as absence.

  The guards didn’t even have time to scream.

  Their bodies froze instantly, expressions locked in confusion and surprise, eyes wide, frost crystallizing across skin and armor in perfect, horrifying detail.

  Yurei stepped forward.

  He examined them calmly.

  “…Still fragile,” he said.

  He nudged one with his foot.

  The statue toppled.

  When it hit the ground—

  It shattered.

  Shards of frozen flesh and steel exploded across the stone like glass.

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  Yurei walked past the remains and through the gate.

  The East District died in minutes.

  Wildlife answered his call.

  Roots burst from the ground, coiling around fleeing civilians, lifting them screaming into the air before frost consumed them mid-breath. Vines wrapped around doors and windows, tearing them open. Branches speared through walls.

  People ran.

  They slipped.

  They froze.

  Entire streets became frozen tableaux—families mid-step, hands reaching for one another, faces twisted in terror.

  Yurei moved through it all like a quiet god.

  “…So much noise,” he murmured, freezing a man mid-cry.

  And still—

  No one stopped him.

  Until—

  Akitsu froze mid-step.

  “…Rhen.”

  Rhen had stopped walking too.

  The laughter behind them felt distant now. Wrong.

  “…Do you feel that?” Rhen asked slowly.

  Akitsu nodded.

  The temperature dropped sharply—too sharply. Breath fogged instantly. Lantern flames flickered, dimming unnaturally.

  Lemon’s voice trembled. “This is bad. This is very bad.”

  Rhen closed his eyes.

  His Ghost sense reached outward—

  And recoiled.

  “…There’s mana,” he said hoarsely. “Terrifying mana. Kilometers away. Moving.”

  Akitsu’s jaw tightened. “Yurei.”

  Lemon spun toward the East District. “That way.”

  They didn’t hesitate.

  The closer they got, the colder it became.

  Lanterns were extinguished one by one, frost crawling over walls and windows. Streets were silent—too silent.

  Then they saw it.

  Frozen bodies.

  Shattered remains.

  Hands on the ground, snapped fingers scattered like broken porcelain.

  Rhen staggered. “…No.”

  Akitsu said nothing.

  Ahead—

  Footsteps.

  Crunching ice.

  Yurei emerged from the fog, walking toward them calmly, coat fluttering slightly in the unnatural cold.

  Akitsu stepped forward. “What happened to you?”

  Yurei stopped.

  “…Evolution,” he replied.

  Rhen swallowed. “Akitsu—we need to leave. Now. He’s not here to fight. He’s here to kill.”

  Akitsu shook his head. “Running won’t matter.”

  Yurei’s eyes lifted.

  “You understand,” he said. “Good.”

  His breath frosted the air.

  “You’ll die today.”

  Rhen stepped forward, fists clenching, phasing flickering instinctively around him. “Then come do it.”

  Akitsu’s hand moved toward Joyeuse—

  When—

  A spear came down from the sky.

  It struck the ground between them with explosive force, jade-green light rippling outward, cracking the frozen street.

  A figure landed atop the spear’s handle with impossible balance.

  Cloaked in royal armor etched with Crestfall sigils.

  Rhen’s eyes widened.

  “…No way.”

  The man stepped down smoothly, grasping the spear.

  The Heavenly Jade Spear — Spade.

  “One of the Four…” Rhen whispered.

  The knight faced Yurei.

  “Identify yourself,” he commanded calmly.

  Yurei tilted his head.

  “…Yurei.”

  The knight’s grip tightened.

  “Then you stand against Crestfall.”

  Cold deepened.

  And the night held its breath.