Silence.
Not the kind that follows peace. The other one. Heavier. Dirtier. The one that lingers after slaughter.
Wilhelm slowly sheathed his blade. It was red to the hilt, sticky with blood. Around him, the village was nothing but rubble. Walls torn open, cobblestones black with ash, bodies twisted into absurd, broken shapes.
And the stench. Of fire, of iron, of torn flesh.
He didn't move. Only his eyes shifted. Always sharp, always alert.
Because he knew: sometimes a wounded enemy still crawls to kill. And sometimes, the dead rise without warning.
A few steps behind, survivors whimpered. A soldier with a severed arm cried like a child. Another, mouth full of blood, fumbled for his helmet.
But Wilhelm wasn't looking at them.
He was staring at the ground. And thinking:
What was it all for?
A victory? Maybe. But at what cost?
Footsteps approached. Light, quick.
He lifted his head without turning around.
Wilhelm: "Julius."
The knight stood there, breathless, face smeared with soot. He looked younger than ever.
Too young for all that blood.
Julius: "It's… over. At least here."
Wilhelm slowly nodded. He didn't smile. There was nothing to smile about.
Wilhelm: "No. It's not over."
And at that very moment, he felt it —
A faint shiver crawling down his spine.
Something was wrong. Still wrong. Not far.
The sun was fading behind the hills, painting the sky in copper and blood.
Amid the village's smoking ruins, the streets were still lined with corpses.
Victory tasted like ashes.
Wilhelm sheathed his sword with a whisper of metal.
Around him, the living were tending to the wounded, gathering the dead. Julius joined him in silence.
Julius: "Where's Guts?"
Wilhelm stood still for a second.
Wilhelm: "He left."
In the heart of the battle, he turned north… mounted his horse, and rode off. Without a word.
Julius (murmuring): "The mansion…"
Suddenly, galloping hooves echoed in the broken street. It was Rem.
She leapt down, pale, eyes wide.
Rem: "Ram. Something's wrong."
Felix followed, holding a spare horse by the reins. He frowned.
Felix: "You mean your sister?"
Rem: "Yes. I can feel her… but it's blurry. Twisted.
Like something's eating her from the inside. Or smothering her."
Wilhelm looked up. He didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the reins Felix held out and mounted.
Wilhelm: "Guts is already heading to the mansion.
If what you say is true, then he won't be alone."
Julius climbed up too, his cape soaked in the blood of demon beasts.
Julius: "Let's go. Felix, come."
Felix gulped but nodded.
Wilhelm turned once more to the rear guard.
Wilhelm: "Ricardo. Mimi. Tivey.
Gather the able men, tend to the wounded, and move them all to Roswaal's mansion."
Rem mounted her horse, spine straight like a drawn blade.
Rem: "I'm coming. Ram is waiting."
Wilhelm clenched his jaw. Then gave the order.
Hooves shattered the silence, breaking through pools of dried blood and the torn remains left behind by the White Whale.
The forest opened before them like a grim hallway — too calm, too empty.
Wilhelm led the way, silent, eyes fixed straight ahead. His sword lay across his thigh. Not a drop of sweat on his brow, despite their pace.
He didn't look at the sky or the trees. Only the horizon. He knew this feeling.
Julius was tense, jaw clenched, hands tight on the reins. He hadn't spoken since they left.
Rem, trailing slightly, pressed a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat echoed louder than usual.
Rem (whispering): "Ram… please… hold on…"
Felix, usually talkative, stayed unnaturally quiet. His ears twitched now and then.
He'd seen bloody battles. He'd seen fear in Rem's eyes. But never… this uncertainty. This strange blur.
They rode on for a few more minutes, bathed in the crimson light of dusk.
Suddenly, Wilhelm yanked his reins. His horse skidded to a halt, neighing. The others followed.
Wilhelm: "There."
Far ahead, through the branches — a shape.
A corpse nailed to a tree, arms spread like a cross. A violet tunic. A strange symbol painted on the chest… in blood.
Wilhelm (coldly): "The Witch Cult."
Felix swallowed hard.
Felix: "No way…"
Julius drew his blade, spirit energy crackling around him.
Julius: "We're too late."
Wilhelm closed his eyes for a moment. Then, curtly:
Wilhelm: "Not a word. We ride."
And the horses galloped again.
Faster, this time.