The scorched plains beyond Tildaroot still bled smoke black ribbons twisting into the twilight.

The battlefield had fallen silent, save for the hiss of molten stone cooling beneath the weight of what had transpired.

Far beyond the ruins, at the edge of the valley, three silhouettes emerged from the haze.

The first, a massive frame cloaked in crimson heat, his breath like smoke and laughter like embers, Bakuza, the Crimson Hollow.

The second a pale, slender man, robes torn, Kero, the Psycho of the Nine.

And the third a woman wrapped in obsidian silk, her long hair flowing like ink in the wind, eyes glinting with unreadable calm.

They walked in silence for a long time until the stillness broke.

"Tsk…" Bakuza growled, dragging his burnt blade behind him, sparks dancing in its wake.

"I want a rematch with Gorou."

His voice carried that same manic hunger, the voice of a beast that refused to be chained by reason or pain.

But this time, his body betrayed him wounds splitting open across his charred skin, glowing veins pulsing with unstable Shinrei.

The woman glanced at him, her tone cool and sharp.

"As of now, you can't defeat him, Bakuza. You have serious injuries, you idiot."

Bakuza's lips curled, a grin cut from madness itself.

"I don't care."

His teeth glinted beneath the blood. "That monk bastard humiliated me once — and next time, I'll burn him to ash."

Kero exhaled quietly, gaze lost in the horizon.

His half-exposed face was strangely serene now, the blood on his lips already blackening into crusted Shinrei residue.

He muttered, almost to himself,

"Always chasing power… even when your body screams for death. You're going to destroy yourself one day, Bakuza."

Bakuza snorted.

"Better destroyed than forgotten."

The woman sighed, her expression momentarily softening — though her voice remained cold.

"Both of you are fools."

She turned her gaze upward eyes reflecting the stars.

The tone of her voice shifted quieter, reverent.

"Master called us."

Both men froze.

The wind itself seemed to still, the world leaning closer to hear her words.

Bakuza clenched his jaw, crimson Shinrei flickering faintly from his wounds.

"Tsk… I failed the mission Master tasked me."

He spat on the ground, the molten stone hissing beneath his feet.

"I was supposed to kill the Dragon Knight and his group — and yet, they still breathe."

Kero closed his eyes. His faint smirk returned — a broken, weary smile.

"You call that failure? We drew their blood. We tested them. The Master will understand."

The woman nodded once, her hair shimmering in the dying light.

"Master said it's fine."

Bakuza turned his head sharply, one eye flaring like an ember.

"Fine?!"

She met his gaze without flinching.

"Yes. He said…"

Her voice dropped lower, like a whisper carried by fate itself.

"…He's going to change the plan."

Silence again but a different kind.

The kind that came before something greater.

The three Hollow stood beneath the fractured moonlight shadows stretching long across the broken land.

Even through his rage, Bakuza could feel it the shift, the omen, the unseen ripple that promised a storm yet to come.

And for the first time since his birth as a Hollow…

he smiled not in thrill but in anticipation.

"Change the plan, huh…" he murmured, crimson eyes burning through the dark.

"Then the world better be ready."

The woman turned, her cloak sweeping through the dust.

"The age of Veinwalkers… will end soon enough."

Two days had passed since the sky burned.

The ash had finally settled.

Tildaroot, once wrapped in ruin, now breathed again — its air still heavy, yet alive.

Children laughed faintly in the rebuilt square.

Healers from the Veyl branch tended to wounds; villagers worked hand in hand to restore what was lost.

But the scars of battle still lingered not just on the land, but on every heart that had witnessed the wrath of the Hollows.

Khael stood at the edge of the village road, wind brushing through his dark hair. His cloak fluttered softly as he looked toward the hills toward the faint horizon where their next path awaited.

Beside him stood Kaen, arms crossed, fiery eyes calm for once. Rael, quiet and proud, his silver blade sheathed. Ceyla, her hood lowered, lightning sigil faintly glowing under the sun. Juno, hands wrapped again, his gaze distant.

Behind them, Lira, Kenji, Saya, and Shigeo finished loading supplies onto the caravan bound for Veyl Academy.

"So it's time, huh," Kaen muttered, voice low.

"We really leaving this place already?"

Khael nodded, his tone steady but soft.

"Our mission's done. The villagers are safe. And…" he looked up at the pale morning light, "…Master Isen will want our report."

Rael exhaled through his nose, flicking imaginary dust off his collar.

"Let's make sure we don't mention how close we were to dying. It wouldn't sound very… noble."

Kaen rolled his eyes.

"Says the guy who coughed up blood for five minutes straight."

Rael shot him a glare, but the edge of his mouth almost curved into a smirk.

Juno chuckled under his breath.

"You two never change."

From behind, a calm voice interrupted them.

"Leaving already?"

They turned and saw him.

Standing at the village gate, arms folded, robes simple and gray — Gorou Kanzaki.

The villagers stood behind him in quiet respect. Even the elder bowed as Gorou approached, the faint sound of gravel crunching under his sandals.

Khael stepped forward, his eyes softening.

"Big bro Gorou…"

Gorou smiled faintly.

"You've grown, Khael."

His voice carried both pride and a strange heaviness — as though he saw something in the boy that reminded him of a younger version of himself.

"Master Isen asked me to remain here for a while," Gorou said, glancing toward the distant forest. "There are traces of Hollow Shinrei under this land — remnants that could spread if left unchecked."

Khael nodded solemnly.

"Then we'll leave that to you."

Gorou chuckled, resting a hand on Khael's shoulder.

"You've done enough, Dragon Knight. Take your team and rest. The world's storms won't wait forever."

Lira approached, her gentle smile breaking the tension.

"We'll come back, Mister Gorou. Next time, hopefully without a battlefield."

Gorou's eyes softened.

"I'll hold you to that, healer."

Saya adjusted her braid and looked away, muttering,

"I'm not crying or anything. It's just… dusty here."

Kenji smirked, flicking a small gust of wind to ruffle her hair.

"Sure, sure, Saya."

Shigeo sighed, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the horizon.

"Farewells are just variables before the next equation."

Ceyla glanced at him.

"You say the weirdest things sometimes."

Shigeo replied flatly,

"And yet I'm never wrong."

Khael turned one last time to face Gorou.

The morning wind carried faint whispers of the past battle echoes of flame, light, and shadow fading into memory.

"Big bro," Khael said quietly, "when we meet again… I'll be stronger. Strong enough to stand beside you and Master Isen."

Gorou's smile widened calm, almost proud.

"Then I'll look forward to that, Crimson Veinwalker."

Khael blinked in surprise.

"Wait, what did you—"

But Gorou was already walking away, his voice trailing off in the wind.

"You'll find out soon enough."

The team stood there for a moment, watching the monk-like warrior fade into the golden light of morning.

Then, one by one, they began their journey down the path toward Veyl Academy, toward their next trial, toward the storm waiting beyond the mountains.

And as the road curved away, the villagers behind them began to cheer again voices rising like a song carried by the dawn:

"Dragon Knight! Dragon Knight!"

Khael smiled faintly, his heart heavy and warm all at once.

(Farewell, Tildaroot… until we meet again.)

To be continue