"Huh.... Auntie Viola?" Ryan asked, confused and with a sleepy tone, rubbing his eyes.
The air was heavy with stagnation, the grief still fresh—etched in silence and lingering like a curse. The sudden deaths of the Marquess and the Marchioness had fractured what little order remained.
"That's right... I'm here." The blonde woman replied, her voice both firm and comforting, a soft counter to the emptiness around them.
Ryan, only nine, looked pitiful—his clothes disheveled, eyes baggy with sleeplessness and sorrow. He hadn't truly cried. Not yet. The pain hadn't found a proper outlet.
"M-mother is gone, huh?" Ryan asked, voice trembling. A strange blend of bitterness and heartache stained his tone. It wasn't clear if he hated her, missed her, or simply didn't know what to feel.
Viola walked over, brushing his hair back gently.
"May... may I ask what happened last night?" she inquired, glancing toward a sleeping Sylvia, bundled on the far sofa.
Ryan darted a look her way—sharp, startling for his age. "Do you know the Viscount's whereabouts?"
Viola blinked. "What do you mean? Did Rossain—" She paused.
Ryan looked down. "Since Father's death four days ago... t-the manor was rotting. It was already dead. Mother... didn't look right. Then Rossain confined Ricardo and Lira—she couldn't have done that. They were family. They raised Rai. Father was being poisoned by m-mother—"
Tears fell, one after the other. Ryan covered his ears, breathing erratic. Viola wrapped him in her arms immediately.
"Shh... It's okay. Let it out, Ryan..." she whispered, holding him tightly.
In her mind, though, a storm brewed. Viscount Rossain conspired with Teriel? But why? She stroked Ryan's back, her thoughts racing.
---
Raizen stood amidst the chaos.
Dozens of corpses—mana beasts, all fanged and monstrous—littered the cavern. Their blood had pooled into rivers, staining the floor crimson. He stood in the middle, his body trembling from exertion.
He had survived.
Barely.
Raizen's crimson eyes spun in a haze. His vision was blurry, breaths shallow. He slumped beside a jagged stone pillar, limbs barely able to function. The cavern was massive, the dungeon yawning open into deeper darkness behind him.
Then—
[Ding!]
A floating screen shimmered into existence before him, light-blue and translucent.
"Huh? Tell me Mr. Kezess, can you also see that thing?" Raizen asked, confused.
"Yep, that's a positive," Kezess replied casually inside his head.
[The Vessel is now Compatible with the Entity] [Form a contract?] [Yes/No]
Raizen blinked. It wasn't magic, nor aura manipulation. It was something... else. Otherworldly. Ancient.
"What even is the Entity?" he asked inwardly.
Kezess answered promptly, "It's something that'll make you suitable to accommodate a soul fragment."
"So basically, it'll help me get stronger?"
"Well... yeah."
Raizen raised an eyebrow. "Why do you get so surprised when I get excited over strength?"
Kezess went silent for a moment. "You don't even question why you want it?"
Raizen paused. Thought.
Then answered slowly, "Maybe because striving to get stronger... was the only thing that gave me a reason to stay alive."
He exhaled, eyes dim. "I need something—anything—to keep me breathing. Maybe... just maybe, if I collect all the fragments, I'll find out what I did. What curse made me like this."
Kezess didn't speak for a moment.
"Well, you're certainly unique," he said finally. "There's plenty of time. We'll figure it out."
Raizen's eyes narrowed slightly. "W-We? Did you just say 'we'?"
Kezess was silent.
Raizen didn't pry. He smiled instead. A small, tired one.
"Ahem... should I form the contract now—"
"No," Kezess cut in. "You'll never survive the trials at your current state. We'll need to feed you first."
Raizen stared blankly. "What can I even eat here?"
"Cook them."
He turned toward the iron-fanged wolf corpses.
"Huh? B-but—"
"Cook. Them."
Raizen took a hesitant step toward the nearest body. Its fangs were still bared. Blood oozed slowly from the wounds he'd carved.
He swallowed hard.
"You sure about this?"
"More than you are," Kezess said. "Your body needs protein. Mana-saturated meat will boost your resilience. It's disgusting, but it's effective."
Raizen crouched, grimacing.
He retrieved his blade, found some loose stone and a flint shard in the rubble. He set up a crude firepit, placed the meat over a thin metal shard from a broken beast cage.
The stench was awful.
Still, he cooked. It wasn't about taste. It was about survival.
As the meat sizzled, he sat, wrapped in silence.
"So... how many fragments are there?" he asked casually.
"Eight. At least, that's what I remember."
Raizen nodded, chewing on a piece of half-charred wolf flesh.
"What happens when I collect them all?"
Kezess sighed. "You'll either become what you were meant to be—or destroy yourself in all entirety."
"That's not exactly comforting."
"It's not supposed to be."
Raizen stared into the fire.
He wasn't afraid. Not really.
He was numb.
But somewhere deep inside... he felt something shift. A hunger. Not just for food.
For answers.
For power.
And perhaps... just perhaps...
For peace.