Six months had passed.
The world had not stopped, even when their lives shattered beneath the weight of ash and blood.
Six months since the massacre at Colva. Since the smoke cleared and three of them were gone. Since laughter died beneath a willow tree.
Aisu Erlic. Renji Aoka. Hiro Tanaka.
Their names etched into the marrow of memory.
Now, the three who remained stood atop a quiet hill outside the city walls — far from the noise of the academy, from steel-clashing drills and strict lectures. The hill was sacred to them alone. No shrine marked it. No priest tended it. But it was theirs.
Three stones. No grand monuments. Just names, carved with trembling hands and love that refused to fade.
---
Aya Mori knelt before the last stone, fingers trembling over the rough carving:
Aisu Erlic.
The earth smelled of winter and distant river reeds — like their village once did. Aya's hand reached into her satchel. She withdrew a folded cloth. Inside it, a smooth stone, painted blue and white. It was a charm. Aisu's charm.
"You dropped this," she whispered.
Her voice cracked.
"You gave it to Miko once, said it would chase nightmares away. He gave it back, remember? Said he didn't need it — but you did."
She smiled, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"I should have held your hand when we ran."
Her other hand clutched a dried sweet bun — crumbled slightly, but still faintly warm. She'd asked the baker to make it the same way as always: golden top, soft middle, sugar crust.
"I saved you something," she said again, like a prayer. "Like I used to."
Her shoulders shook. Her hair fell over her face. Her tears touched the soil where his name was written.
"I miss you," she breathed.
---
Kaela Drayce approached the second stone, silent and tight-jawed. Her mana aura flared softly at her fingertips, uncontrolled. Emotions made it unstable.
Hiro Tanaka.
"Idiot," she muttered. "You promised we'd all make it."
She reached into her cloak and pulled a small fox carving — crude, ugly, and perfect. Hiro's gift to her, carved during a lazy afternoon long ago. She laid it down.
"You always said you could see through people. So why didn't you see that day coming?"
Her voice caught. She closed her eyes.
"I still talk to you, sometimes. When Aya and Theo don't see. I… need to. It makes it bearable."
---
Theo Linhart, always the last to speak, stood before the third grave: Renji Aoka.
He didn't bring a gift. Only memory.
"You were loud," he said. "Too loud. You joked about everything. But when it mattered… you stood tall."
He drew a practice sword — Renji's old one — and placed it beside the stone.
"You said we'd win the world. You weren't ready to leave it."
His fingers clenched. "I'll carry your dream now."
Then he turned toward the grave beside Renji's.
Aisu's.
Theo's gaze softened, just barely.
"You drove me insane, you know," he muttered. "Always late. Always lost. But you made us feel like we were home."
He touched the stone with his fingers, calloused from training.
"You led without meaning to. That's the kind of leader you were."
---
The three of them stood side by side now.
A wind swept through the valley, quiet and cold. Not cruel — just tired. Like the sky itself mourned.
Aya took Theo's hand.
Kaela placed hers over both.
They stood before the graves — three warriors who were still alive, but had lost pieces of themselves.
"We'll keep training," Theo said.
"We'll grow stronger," Kaela added.
Aya's voice was quietest, but it cut deepest.
"And when we're ready… the Demon Realm will pay."
---
Far away, across mountains and ruin, a boy opened his eyes beneath a training hall of shadows.
His fingers clenched around a wooden blade. Sweat on his brow. Scars on his arms.
His name was no longer spoken in the world above.
But in his heart, their voices still echoed.
> "Wake up, sloth…"
> "You fed me…"
> "I saved you something…"
He whispered, lips barely moving.
"I'm coming back."