-- Caleb --
Pale sunlight filtered softly through the dense canopy above. Somewhere nearby, the gentle murmur of a stream blended with the rustling of leaves. The forest swallowed all other sounds — as if the screams, the pain, and the war beyond the trees had never existed.
The breeze whispered through the branches, muffling the world like cotton pressed over the ears.Here, it was quiet.Almost peaceful.
Insects buzzed softly, while small birds darted between the dark green crowns. The fragile calm was broken only by the hurried rustle of an otter weaving his way through the undergrowth — his paws quick, his breathing sharp. One paw clutched a small vessel tightly to his chest.
Hastened steps.Quickened heartbeat.
Caleb's fur was matted, dirty, and patchy in places. But he didn't slow. The moment he reached the base of the cold, looming mountains, he picked up speed. With a few powerful leaps, he climbed the protruding rock ledge and slipped into the cave nestled above.
Inside, the air was cool and damp — but it was here that Ray lay, sprawled between bloodied rags.
He still looked so young.
Carefully, Caleb leaned over him, placing a paw gently on Ray's burning forehead. The fever hadn't broken. His breathing was shallow. With careful hands, Caleb dabbed at the sweat before trickling small streams of water into Ray's cracked lips.
The boy's eyelids fluttered weakly.His hands twitched.His whole body trembled.
Caleb let out a soft, excited chirp, quickly pouring a few more drops into Ray's mouth. The boy swallowed greedily, though his eyes remained shut, and a soft groan escaped his lips.
Setting the water aside, Caleb took up a small cloth and gently wiped the dried blood from Ray's wounded face. But just as he lowered the cloth again, Ray's body tensed violently. His hand lashed out instinctively, striking Caleb's paw aside with surprising force.
The otter stumbled backward, startled — but beneath the shock surged a wave of relief.He was moving.Life was returning.
Caleb quickly steadied himself and crawled back to Ray's side, leaning in close. With one rough paw, he grasped Ray's trembling hand, and with the other, stroked the boy's damp, dark hair.
"Shh… It's me, my boy. Shh… Easy now," he whispered softly, voice calm and low.
Another shiver ran through Ray's weakened body. Slowly, painfully, his eyelids lifted — revealing the faint, pale blue of his irises, dulled by exhaustion and fever. His breath hitched, a dry cough shaking his frame.
"More water?" Caleb asked gently.
Ray flinched again as Caleb's paw gently brushed against his arm. His breath caught, and his eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to push himself upright.
Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain through his body.The bandages wrapped tightly around his chest and shoulder — carefully applied by Caleb — began to darken, soaking up fresh blood.
"Shhh... easy, my boy," Caleb whispered, voice calm but firm.
Ray let out a strained groan. His breathing rattled, uneven and shallow, and for a moment, Caleb feared he might slip back into unconsciousness. But he reached out, steadying him, guiding his trembling body until Ray sat upright — barely, but upright.
The morning sun streamed through the mouth of the cave, its rays catching on the small golden ring that pierced Caleb's ear, sending tiny sparks of light flickering across the stone walls.
Without a word, Caleb offered him the small water bowl, never once releasing his steady hold on Ray's back, keeping him upright and supported.
Ray's shoulders were almost unrecognizable — covered in dried blood, layers of bandages, and dark stains. The tattoos that once marked him as a warrior of the water tribe were completely hidden beneath the mess.
Right now, he looked nothing like himself.
Still, Ray nodded in quiet gratitude, his hands shaking as he accepted the bowl. The water trembled inside as he lifted it to his lips and drank in small, cautious sips.
His eyes darted around slowly, brows furrowing as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. His voice, rough and cracked, didn't match his youthful, handsome features.
"W-Where… where are we, Caleb?"
The otter paused for a moment, his paw still resting gently against Ray's back.Then, softly, he answered: "At the eastern edge of the third ring."
He hesitated again, his voice lowering.
"That means… we're outside our beloved homeland now. I'm sorry."
-- Ray --
"What?!"
For a moment, Ray could only stare at Caleb, the words hanging in the air like distant echoes, too heavy to process all at once.
The eastern edge of the third ring…
He struggled to grasp it. That was weeks of travel from home. To have reached this place, they must have crossed all three rivers that once encircled the lands of the Southern Water Tribe — their last defense.
But he remembered none of it.
How long have I been unconscious?How much have I lost?
Pain pulsed through his body like waves breaking against a fragile shore. But nowhere did it burn more fiercely than his face. Even the slightest movement of his jaw sent sharp stabs of agony spiraling outward.
Slowly, almost afraid of what he might feel, Ray raised his trembling fingers to his right cheek.
Swollen. Tender. His right eye barely able to open.Then the wound—deep and jagged, cutting across his cheek almost entirely. The raw flesh beneath his touch was feverish, the edge of the cut sticky beneath layers of dried blood and thickening infection.
The sickening warmth beneath his fingertips made his stomach churn. He pressed his lips together, swallowing the rising nausea.
What happened to me?What happened to all of us?
His gaze flickered restlessly through the dim light of the cave. Every shadow, every corner—empty.
No one.Only Caleb.Only him.
And if no one else was here…
A hollow chill crawled up his spine.
Fragments of memory stirred — broken flashes of panic, shouts carried by the wind, the distant sight of black shapes appearing over the first ring's horizon.
Black uniforms.So many black uniforms.
Suddenly, like a blade slicing through fog, the memories snapped back into place.
The Black Army had invaded his city.They had crossed the three rings.They had come.
But… how?No one had expected an attack. Not here. Not now.
For Samael and Kasō's forces to reach the Southern Water Tribe, they would have had to push through the wide plains of the Shizen Bistum first — vast lands that should have offered weeks of warning. But there had been no reports. No scouts returning. No signs of advancing armies.
The Southern Water Tribe had always been… safe.
That word echoed bitterly in Ray's mind, sharp and cruel.
Safe. How absurd that word sounded now.
The rings — those great natural barriers — had protected them for generations. The distance from the Flame Empire had always offered comfort, a false sense of distance. They had believed in that safety. Clung to it.
But it had all been an illusion.And because of that illusion, they hadn't been ready.
Not for this.
Ray stared into the empty cave, his breath shallow. Yes… he remembered. At least fragments.
The Red-Black Alliance had invaded his homeland — sudden, brutal, without mercy.Screams, the crackling roar of unforgiving flames — they still echoed inside his head. The metallic taste of blood mixed with sweat clung to his mouth, sharp and sickening. Every burning muscle in his body was a mark left by what had happened.
But the details…They were lost.
He frowned, straining, trying desperately to grasp at the memories — to pull something clear from the haze. But no matter how hard he reached, the images slipped from his mind like sand through open fingers.
Why is everything black?Why can't I remember?Why am I here…?
Alone.
The thought pierced through him like a blade.
His family. His companions. His people.Where were they?
He couldn't stay here. Not like this. Never.
He clenched his fists weakly, breath ragged.He had to find them.He would find them.
No matter what.
Ray tried to push himself up from the makeshift bed, but pain tore through him instantly, forcing him back down. His chest felt as though it might split open at any moment.
Gritting his teeth, he tried again.
How… how can I be this weak?How can I lie here, crippled by pain, while I do nothing? While my loved ones are out there, lost, in danger?
Anger surged inside him, hot and wild. His fist slammed into the cold stone beneath him, and a raw cry burst from his throat — not just from pain, but from the helpless rage burning in his heart.
The sharp sting shot through his arm, but it was nothing compared to the ache spreading through his chest.
Caleb rushed to his side, quickly pinning him down with firm, steady paws.
"Stay down, damn it!" the otter growled. "I didn't drag you all the way here and care for you day and night just so you could throw yourself back into danger like a fool."
His voice was sharp, but his eyes were filled with worry.
"D-Day and night?" Ray whispered, his earlier rage dissolving into breathless confusion. His pale blue eyes widened, growing glassy as his skin turned even paler — so pale that his usual olive-caramel complexion now resembled that of an albino lizard. "How long has it been, Caleb?"
The otter gently stroked Ray's trembling hand, his voice lowering.
"I know this is hard for you… but you need to stay calm. You need to rest."
Ray swallowed hard, his throat tightening as Caleb lowered his gaze and closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"The Southern Tribe… our home…" Caleb's voice was quiet, yet every word hit like a blade. "It's all gone. Destroyed. Our families—either killed or taken. Inside the rings… nothing remains as it once was. Everything lies in ruins."
A raw sound burst from Ray's throat — not a roar this time, but a high, broken cry, far too sharp for a young man once so strong. The pain twisted his voice into something unrecognizable.
Without thinking, his hands shot out and seized Caleb, shaking the otter in desperation.
"No… no, that can't be true! What are you saying?" His voice cracked under the weight of his horror. "They can't be… they're not… no!"
His grip trembled as his words dissolved into fragments of disbelief.
Caleb gently placed his paw over Ray's hand, his touch soft but steady.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "But now… now you must be strong, Ryujin."
Ryujin.
An honorable name among the Southern Water Tribes — one few were ever given.It meant Dragon God or Sea Dragon.
Only those families blessed by the Water Spirit itself were permitted to name their son this way. The name was meant to reflect the immense power said to sleep within the chieftain's bloodline: the might of the Sea Dragon — the very embodiment of the Water Spirit.
Ray had been raised to believe he could one day wield that power. That he would become the strongest of all water warriors, if only he could awaken the strength lying dormant within him.
But now…
Now, he didn't deserve that name.
Where had that power been when he needed it most?Where was his strength when his people were falling?
He had nothing.No strength.No power.Only bitter failure.
The realization struck him like a hundred slaps to the face, stealing the air from his lungs. Unable to contain it any longer, Ray let out another broken cry, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief.
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks, but he barely noticed them. The storm inside him was too overwhelming — a torrent of loss and shame that drowned everything else.
Caleb remained silent, letting him cry, letting him release the flood of anguish. In the otter's eyes, Ray could see a quiet understanding — a pain that mirrored his own.
After all, Wa had been Caleb's home too.
The bitter taste of that truth filled Ray's mouth.The last tribe had fallen.His people, his culture — gone.
And that pain…It was far worse than any physical wound.
He wept for his loved ones, for his fallen comrades — helpless and raw, as though a dam had shattered inside him.
The flood came without end: Pain. Grief. Fear. Panic.
Emotions he never thought he could feel so deeply now tore through him, merciless and relentless.
It took hours before his body surrendered to exhaustion. Only when his strength was completely spent did sleep finally claim him again, heavy and dreamless.
⸻ ✧ ⸻
Several more hours passed before the two could continue their conversation.
When Ray awoke again, the scent of roasted fish filled his nostrils, and the gentle crackle of a campfire reached his ears.
Caleb was no longer beside him.
But this time, Ray managed to rise on his own. His body trembled as he slowly pulled himself up, wrapping the fur — which had served as his blanket — tightly around his bare, wounded chest. With slow, uneven steps, he limped toward the entrance of the cave, where the soft glow of firelight beckoned him.
Carefully, he lowered himself down beside Caleb, settling awkwardly next to the flames. The fire danced in the darkness, its flickering light casting long, shifting shadows across the stone walls. Smoke drifted upward into the starry night, disappearing into the cool, black sky. The rich aroma of sizzling fish skin filled the small clearing in front of the cave.
Ray stared into the fire, hypnotized by the rhythm of the flames, while the weight of grief pressed heavily onto his chest — the same hollow ache that had filled him ever since that brief conversation with Caleb.
Beside him, Caleb remained silent, focused on slowly turning the fish skewered over a sharpened stick.
"Thank you, Caleb," Ray whispered.
His voice startled even himself — brittle and hoarse, cracking like dry branches underfoot. He shivered and pulled the fur tighter around his shoulders, wrapping his arms around his body as if to hold himself together. His shadow danced tall and ghostly on the rock behind him, looming three or four times larger than the small shape of the otter crouched before the fire, carefully watching over their meal.
"You don't need to thank me," Caleb said softly, his voice steady. "I would never have left you behind."
The silence returned, filled only by the crackling of the fire and the gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze.
Caleb finally pulled the fish from the flames, waving it lightly through the cool air to let it cool before carefully tearing the white flesh in half with his chestnut-brown paws. He handed one portion to Ray.
The two ate quietly, chewing the dry fish in slow, mechanical rhythm. They spit out the small bones between bites, swallowing in unison, saying nothing. The simple ritual continued until every last piece was gone.
By the time the meal was finished, the fire had burned low, and the surrounding darkness crept closer. Somewhere nearby, an owl called out into the night.
Slowly, Ray turned toward Caleb and met his gaze. The otter's eyes reflected the faint glow of the dying fire — warm on the surface, but pale and distant deep within.
"Please… tell me what happened," Ray asked, his voice steadier this time. "I can't remember."
Caleb gave a small nod. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering the strength to relive the nightmare once more.
And then, quietly, he began.
⸻ ✧ ⸻
At last, the otter finished his tale with a deep, weary sigh. His voice fell silent as his eyes met Ray's with steady determination.
"The following days, I marched without rest, without pause," Caleb said softly. "The only thing that kept me moving was the hope that you — as your father's heir — would one day avenge our home and the suffering that has been brought upon us."
He paused, his voice thickening.
"After crossing the third ring, I collapsed myself. I knew neither of us would survive much further. That's when fortune showed us mercy. A young girl found us — and carried us here. She treated your wounds with herbs and wrapped you in furs, making this cave your refuge. We owe her our lives."
Caleb's eyes shimmered now, damp with emotion. His paws clenched tightly into fists as he fought to maintain his composure. Licking his lips, he drew a breath before continuing.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice lower, almost trembling. "I don't know how much of Wa remains. I don't know how many of our friends survived — or how many have been captured. But I know this much: many were already chained and dragged away during the battle. And many more… will never open their eyes again."
Restless tension spread through Ray's chest. He stared at the otter, wide-eyed and breathless, torn between emotions that pulled him in opposite directions.
A burning anger rose inside him — anger at himself, at their failure to defend their home, at the fact that they had fled.And yet, beneath it all, was gratitude.Gratitude for his friend — who had never abandoned him.
Before Ray could even speak, Caleb's voice broke through — as though he had seen the battle raging behind Ray's eyes.
"Believe me, Ray," he said hoarsely. "Against this army… we never stood a chance. Not for a single moment. Samael's warriors — they come straight from the underworld itself."
His voice trembled as he continued, desperate to make Ray understand.
"It wasn't only the trained soldiers and fire-mages of the Flame Empire. He had Shadow Elves at his side."
A cold shiver ran down Ray's spine. The mere mention of them made his skin crawl.
As if reading his thoughts again, Caleb pressed on, his voice now barely more than a whisper:
"I only know of them from old stories… from a time when heaven and earth still stood close. When hell was within reach. Shadow Elves are the devil's own warriors."
Both of them fell silent for a moment, swallowing hard at the very thought of such creatures.
The Shadow Elves — short swords in hand, their claws razor-sharp. Masters of brutal close combat. But worst of all… was the Death Kiss.
If they got close enough, they didn't need to kill.With one touch of their lips, they could tear the very soul from their victim. They wouldn't leave a corpse — but something far worse: a body trapped in endless madness, writhing in agony and darkness.
With every kiss, they stole joy from their victims and extended their own lives. Some said a single kiss could gift them centuries of youth. If enough victims crossed their path, they could live forever.
It was this Death Kiss that, according to legend, had once driven the other races of the earth to hunt the Shadow Elves down. They had been burned, exiled, and erased from the world — and for thousands of years, none had been seen again.Ray had never truly believed they were real.
But now…
Caleb fell silent, blinking away the tears welling in his eyes, and shook his head slowly.There were no more words to be said.
Ray too said nothing. His gaze remained locked on the dying fire, his breathing shallow.
The final embers painted his face in a soft, purplish glow, casting deep shadows beneath his eyes. His dark hair clung to his forehead in damp, greasy strands. The deep red light flickered in his dull blue eyes, reflecting the fading warmth of the fire.
His expression was frozen — like weathered stone. Numb. Exhausted. Crumbled from within.
And yet, behind that still mask, pain roared like a silent storm — pure, suffocating anguish hidden deep inside his eyes.
Around them, the night had fallen completely.
⸻ ✧ ⸻
Several more days passed before Ray could move with any real strength again.
Each day, he paced slowly back and forth within the narrow confines of the cave where the two companions remained in hiding. At first, every step was short, dragging and laced with pain. But slowly — painfully — his movements grew steadier, more controlled.
As the fever finally broke, so too did the fog that had clouded his mind. The haze of pain and blurred memories began to lift, and little by little, Caleb's recounting of events started to merge with fragments of his own returning memories.
But the clearer his thoughts became, the more the madness crept in. His broken body. His weakness. His helplessness. The simple fact that he was still here — while his people suffered or worse — gnawed at him with merciless persistence.
Nightmares haunted him. Guilt clawed at his chest like invisible hands. How could I still be here… while they are…
He tried not to think of the alternative — of what state his loved ones might be in. Imprisoned… or worse.
Every day, Caleb brought back fish, which he roasted carefully over their open flame. The drinking water, Ray noticed, must have come from a nearby settlement, since the stream by the cave was salty — fed by the waters of the third ring, the outermost circle of the Southern Water Tribe. Like the innermost ring, its water carried the taste of the open sea.
The sun rose. The sun set.And the silence of the dense forest wrapped them in an eerie kind of peace — a surreal, detached world, like a dream that refused to end.
It felt like a false reality.And it was slowly driving Ray mad.
"If I have to spend one more day in this cave," Ray growled one evening as they sat once more by the fire, "I swear I'll follow my father myself."
The bitterness in his voice came not only from yet another suffocating day in the woods.
Caleb had seen his father fall. Had told him that, in the end, there had been nothing left to save. Ray didn't blame his friend — not truly — but the truth gnawed at him all the same. The weight of failure pressed heavier with every passing hour.
We didn't do enough. We weren't strong enough. We couldn't protect them.
He couldn't sit here any longer.
"We have to leave. We can't rot away in here like this, trapped in some kind of trance. We have to…"
Caleb turned sharply toward Ray — and with a swift motion, his paw struck Ray's cheek.
The blow was hard. Ray staggered backward from the force, his head snapping to the side. But before he could fully react, Caleb raised his paw again for a second strike.
This time, Ray moved.
In one quick burst of instinct, he lunged forward, grabbed Caleb by the tail, and with surprising strength, swung the otter through the air. Caleb spun mid-arc before crashing hard into the ground with a loud thud, landing flat on his back.
"What the hell was that?!" Ray shouted, his voice booming with fury.
"Are you out of your mind?! The wound just closed — I'm not looking to add a second scar to my face!"
His deep blue eyes locked onto Caleb, burning with frustration.His fists clenched tightly, every muscle tense, ready to defend himself if the otter dared try again.
Caleb coughed lightly, brushing dust and dirt from his fur as he stood. Rising up on his hind legs, he met Ray's glare head-on, completely unfazed.
With an almost formal nod, Caleb spoke calmly, "I simply wanted to see if you're ready to leave the safety of this forest. And from what I can see—"He smirked slightly."—you're standing quite well again."
"Oh, 'quite well,' is it?" Ray growled, narrowing his eyes."Let me show you just how well I'm standing."
Lowering himself into a crouch, his muscles coiled like a spring. In the next heartbeat, he lunged forward.
Caleb reacted instantly, dodging with a nimble sidestep. The counterattack followed immediately, his paw slicing toward the exposed side. Twisting his body, Ray blocked with his left forearm while swinging wide with his right.
They clashed for several more moments, exchanging fast blows and counters, their movements sharp and deliberate. Neither backed down. Attack, block, counter, dodge — a rhythm that continued until both, breathless and spent, finally collapsed onto the grass.
The fire had burned low by then. With the darkness fully settled in, any further sparring would have been reckless — the uneven forest floor now as dangerous as any strike.
Lying on his back, he stared up into the clear night sky. The pale moonlight danced across his eyes, deepening them like pools of endless water beneath the stars.
Caleb sat quietly by his head, gently brushing damp strands of dark hair from his brow.
Stretching out his arm, Ray reached for the stars as if he might grasp them if only he tried hard enough. His hand lowered slowly to the pendant resting against his bare chest, fingers idly tracing the familiar contours while his eyes remained locked on the heavens.
"Caleb…" The voice was quiet but steady, filled with new resolve. "We can't let them get away with this. I will avenge my father. I will avenge our people."
His face had hardened. The pain no longer dulled him — it fueled the fire burning within.
But Caleb's voice, though gentle, tempered that flame. "If we rush in blindly, Ray, there will be no chance of reclaiming our land. We may be the last free sons of our tribe. Revenge cannot guide us now. If it does, we'll simply add our own bodies to the mountain of corpses beneath the Red-Black Alliance."
A frustrated grunt escaped him. Caleb's words were sound — as always. And yet, the rage boiling beneath his skin made it impossible to accept them.
The otter's tone remained calm and measured, like a parent chastising a stubborn child. "We have no gold, no weapons. That's where we need to start — not with blood. Blood alone won't save our people."
Silence followed. Deep down, he knew Caleb spoke truth. But still… did his friend not share his grief? Did he not feel the same fury burning inside?
"We move out tomorrow," Caleb declared. "We'll find work in the next town, earn gold, arm ourselves. And when the time comes…" his eyes narrowed slightly, "…they'll beg for mercy. They'll wish they had never set foot in Wa. They'll taste the same flames they brought upon us."
Jerking upright, his eyes flared with a fierce, almost primal energy.
"I am Ryujin Gaido, son of Kori Gaido and rightful chieftain of the Southern Water Tribe," he declared, voice rising like a vow cast into the stars. "The blood of a sacred warrior flows through me. And I will cut down anyone who dares stand in my way."