Thirty minutes had passed; Kisatsu and Ryurei walked near the edge of the precipice.
The vast expanse of water stretched before them, its depth uncharted yet familiar.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kisatsu spotted a few vague incoming barques, but he paid them no mind.
Ryurei spread out a mottled, crumpled sheet of paper—a small map of their homeland, marked with red circles indicating the cliffs they had already visited.
“So this one’s here,” he said, pointing to the unmarked spot on the map, though Kisatsu wasn’t really looking.
They now stood at a high elevation, their home visible in the distance—small, humble, tranquil as the clear sky.
Beyond them, a tract of forest awaited, whispering faintly in the soft breeze.
The brothers perched on a small outcrop at the forest’s edge, peering out over the vastness of blue, framed by a distant wash of emerald green.
Even with all this, the strange presence still lingered around Ryurei.
It had been constant the entire time, and he still hadn’t discerned its source.
Yet for, some reason, he felt relieved—there had been no change, no fluctuation.
“I don’t think I could live as a regular human,” Kisatsu muttered, elbows resting on both knees.
“That sounds far too dull—and too easy as well.
What’s the point of being normal if there’s a world out there that isn’t?” A sharp note of indignation crept into his tone.
“It’s hard to believe that the world beyond those barriers is exactly like ours—I’m not buying that.”
A soft laugh slipped from Ryurei—the kind of chuckle that escaped whenever Kisatsu fussed over things helplessly.
“What’s so laughable about it?
Are you making fun of me just because you’re free to become whatever you like and I’m not?” Kisatsu grumbled, chin resting on his palm, pouting.
“This is absurd.
Hmph.”
Ryurei looked at him, letting out another quiet chuckle, eyes filled with quiet amusement.
Then, in a sincere voice, he asked, “Why do you want to become a knight?”
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t?
You think I’d hesitate to choose between living an ordinary life and living as a knight?” Kisatsu shot back, tone edged with indignation.
“There’s no comparison.”
“You think being a knight is perfect?” Ryurei asked, voice steady, quieter now.
“I mean, everyone dies anyway.
But that’s just how life is—I’ll die all the same even if I live carefully.”
“You think you’d be happier as a knight?”
“I believe I would,” Kisatsu said softly.
“It’s not exactly my dream, but being a knight sounds like having the freedom and power to go anywhere—one of the few things I truly want in life.”
Kisatsu stared down at the ground in quiet thought.
Ryurei had always been by Xavior’s side whenever he fulfilled his knightly duties, while Kisatsu stayed at home helping Shione—like a garden-variety younger brother.
He didn’t hate it, but he didn’t want it to stay that way forever.
Ryurei noticed Kisatsu’s contemplative look—sulky as ever, nothing new—and shifted his position to face him.
“You said you wanted to know what’s beyond the barriers.
Have you heard about Partians?”
Kisatsu turned to him, expression brightening at the name.
“Yeah, the mythical creatures with humanoid bodies, right?
I’ve read a lot about them in books.
They don’t really sound that scary.” He leaned closer, eyes gleaming with newfound curiosity.
“Why, have you seen one in real life?”
“Yes,” Ryurei said, voice heavy for a moment as shards of memory resurfaced like cracked glass.
But he chose to keep the truth from him.
“But that was a long time ago, when you were still a toddler.”
Kisatsu leaned in even closer, Ryurei’s words only fueling his excitement.
“Where?!”
“It’s in another land.
I can’t quite remember where exactly.
I only remember she was around my age, and it was snowing at the time.
I was with Father—maybe he still remembers where it was,” Ryurei answered, trying to recall whatever he’d seen back then.
All he could remember was the form of an anthropomorphic vixen, draped in butterscotch-colored fur, with eyes shining a brighter green than the emerald barriers.
Kisatsu gave him a sullen, knowing glare—the kind that said he should’ve been there.
“Listen—you were a toddler back then.
Even Mother was against Father’s idea of bringing you along,” Ryurei said.
“And even if she had agreed, I would have refused to babysit.”
Kisatsu sighed in resignation.
“So, what did she look like?
What kind of animal was she?”
“She looked like a vixen, from what I can remember.”
“A fox?
I was hoping for something more draconic,” Kisatsu muttered, frowning in wry disappointment.
“Father has access to a few draconic Partians.
I haven’t seen them myself, though.
Maybe he’s trying to keep it secret, so I think I’d rather not pry any further.”
Out of the corner of his ear, Ryurei caught a faint, unmistakable thud from the forest.
He turned quickly toward it but saw nothing.
The sound wasn’t loud or even distinct—but he was sure he’d heard it.
“The barriers aren’t as visible from across the sea,” Kisatsu said, gazing toward the horizon—his eyes always fell on the barriers whenever they were in sight anyway.
“Maybe it’s farthest from here.” He squinted, peering again at the same incoming vessels from earlier.
“That said, those ships really are approaching fast.”
“Ships?” Ryurei turned toward the sea.
Just the sight of them approaching in the distance sent a shiver through his gut, eyes widening with tension.
Those are…
coming from the barriers, he thought, brows tight in apprehension.
How?
There is no land on that side.
“They’re heading toward our home.
Are they knights?
They must be looking for Dad,” Kisatsu murmured.
“Hey, Ryurei, do you have any ide—” As soon as he turned to Ryurei, he caught the strain in his brother’s features—and for a moment, mirrored his confusion.
“R-Ryurei?
Is something wrong?
You look pale,” he called, twice, before finally jolting Ryurei out of his thoughts.
Ryurei quickly turned to him, a distressing sense of alarm contorting his countenance.
“Kisatsu, let’s not go home yet,” he said, tone etched with urgency.
“What?
Why?
Ryurei, what are you talking about?” Kisatsu asked, brows creasing, anxiety threading through his voice.
“I don’t have time to explain all the details,” Ryurei replied, standing up.
“We need to move away from here.
Let’s just wait for Father to find us instead.” He stepped forward, gazing toward the incoming vessels.
“What’s going on?” Kisatsu’s voice quavered at the edges.
“You’re scaring me.”
Ryurei glanced at him, meaning to reassure him, but Kisatsu’s uneased expression only tugged at his heart.
Slowly, Ryurei’s face softened—controlled, more collected now.
“Kisatsu, it’s okay.
I’m here—I’ll protect you if anything goes wrong,” he murmured, trying to make his voice sound as reassuring as possible.
“So please, just do what I say.”
“They’re just ships—what could possibly go wrong?”
“Ships…
aren’t supposed to come from the other side of the sea…
unless the barrier’s been breached,” Ryurei said, his tone turning grave.
He turned to the barques once more as they sailed toward home, coming closer with every breath.
If they’re heading toward home, then they must be after Father, he mused, brows knitting.
But…
how did they find him?
Was his Rage presence still perceptible from that far?
He stepped away, shuddering slightly.
No—impossible.
The Rage presence I’ve been sensing since this morning couldn’t have been his, I’m sure of it.
A beat.
Or…
were those ships the source of this strange Rage presence?
The sound of footsteps emerged, ones Ryurei hadn’t noticed until the voice followed.
“Ah.
Did I disturb a moment of ataraxy?” a strange voice called out.
Both brothers turned sharply toward the stranger.
His presence—how did I not sense him?
Ryurei thought, eyes sharpening.
Something is wrong.
“Who are you, sir?” Kisatsu asked, voice cool but cautious.
“Why, I am merely a priest who rambles in his leisure,” the stranger replied, his black cassock seeming almost too familiar for a priest’s garb.
“Really?
You’ve been watching us since earlier, haven’t you?” Kisatsu asked, a glint of mischief flickering beneath his tone.
“Watching?
My, what an improper assumption.
I assure you, I do not indulge in such repertoires.”
“Then how did you find us?” Ryurei asked, voice clipped, cold, stepping forward warily.
“This path isn’t frequently traveled.”
“A keen observation, young man,” the stranger said, tone glib, a breath of laughter curling at the edge of his words.
“But every place is meant to be found, every serendipity ruined—much like now.”
“You speak really…
deep,” Kisatsu remarked.
“Are you from here?”
“I am not.
Though I must say—the view here is truly ethereal.” The priest turned toward the sea.
“I am certain your father chose to reside here for that very reason.”
“Our father?” Ryurei asked, doubt creeping into his voice.
“How do you know of him?” He stepped in front of Kisatsu, his stance tightening.
“A man of his…
reputation…
is hard to miss.” The priest’s words flowed out smooth, even, his voice carrying an eerie animus—silent, but unmistakeable.
“His past precedes him, much like a shadow on a sunny day.”
“His past?
What are you talking about?” Ryurei’s voice came sharp.
“What do you want?”
“Only a moment of your time,” the priest said calmly, shifting back to them.
“I had hoped for a pleasant chat with the sons of that devil.”
At his words, Ryurei knew no negotiation was needed.
He seized Kisatsu’s hand and started to walk away in hurried steps.
“We’re done talking.”
“Oh, I think not.” The priest’s voice slithered like smoke.
“The conversation has only just begun.” In a single swift motion, the priest struck them from behind, sending both brothers crashing to the ground—unconscious.
A moment later, Kisatsu’s eyes fluttered open, blinking against the harsh blue light as he lay on the ground.
His hands shifted, weighted by a firm, metallic cold.
His gaze fell upon the chains binding his wrists before flicking to Ryurei, who lay sprawled nearby, unchained.
The priest sat upon the outcrop where the brothers had once been, a smirk curving like venom across his face.
“R—Ryurei!” Kisatsu called out, voice cracking through the air.
“Ah…
so the young one is called Ryurei,” the priest said, voice wafting through the air like a plume of smoke.
“And you—are you his younger brother?”
“Why…
why are you doing this?
What do you want from us?
We have done nothing!
We just came here to relax!”
“Mm.
That is what you believe.
Yet the tales of your forefathers speak…
quite differently.”
“What are you talking about…?” Kisatsu growled, voice paling.
“Those ships—were they yours?
What do you want?”
“Your father is a wanted malefactor.
Of course, it would have been…
inconvenient for him to tell such things to his own children.
I understand.”
Ryurei’s eyes twitched slightly before he stirred.
He rose slowly, body heavy and frail from the earlier strike.
“Ryurei!” Kisatsu exclaimed.
“Awake already, older brother?” the priest asked, tone malignant.
Ryurei frowned, trying to recall what had happened before he lost consciousness.
He turned toward the priest, brows drawing tight with a sense of danger, gaze immediately flicking to Kisatsu.
“Kisatsu…
ru—” he hitched, voice catching at the sight of chains binding his brother.
“You are the elder brother, are you not?” the priest asked, voice low, clinical—eyes haunting like a predator’s.
“Then you must surely know more of your father than this one.” He shifted, straightening his posture.
“Tell me everything he has ever told you.”
Ryurei shot him a glare—sharp, firm, unwavering.
“And why should I?” His voice came edged like cold fangs.
“To inform me how many lies he has passed on to you.”
“I already know Father hides a lot of things, but even so, he has always loved us.
He can separate his family from his past—and I will not consent to pry further!”
“A convenient distinction.”
“It’s the truth!” Ryurei asserted, voice showing no sign of yielding.
“Is it?
Or is it merely a comfort you tell yourself so the truth does not sting so much?” the priest replied, the sneer on his face only curling all the way up to his ears.
“You are the sons of that devil, after all—of course it is only natural you should defend him.”
Ryurei’s eyes grew dim at his words.
“Watch your words,” he growled, voice lower now.
“Yet that does not mean our ideals are completely opposed,” the priest said, standing up.
“You have much to learn, young man.” He stepped forward decisively, looming over Ryurei.
“Much to unlearn about your father.”
“I don’t need a lesson from you!”
“Perhaps you might be of service to me all the same.”
“Never.” Ryurei’s stance stiffened before the priest, legs rooted firmly to the ground.
His fingers curled into a fist, the other raised forward, ready to thrust.
His expression remained tight, calculating, sharpened like a blade unsheathed.
I’m a knight of the Fifth Division—I should be able to put up a fight, he thought brows furrowed, calculations running through his mind all at once.
By his Rage, he must be at least an A-ranked threat—nothing Father would struggle with.
He glanced over his shoulder at Kisatsu.
But firstly, I’ll free Kisatsu from those chains—that shouldn’t be too hard.
Then, I’ll just throw myself fully at this priest.
It doesn’t matter whether I live or die after this.
His gaze turned forward once more, eyes burning with keen determination.
With Kisatsu tethered in chains, Ryurei had no choice but to face the malevolent in front of him.