The steel of the jail—no, it would be more accurate to call them cages—shattered under the force of Kairn's spear. She moved through the cell block, delivering precise strikes each time, and each door fell open without any resistance. Naofumi was behind her, his shield raised, his body blocking the path of any guard who might have escaped the Bow Map detection feature, but there were none.
Rabiel had been so confident it seems. In what exactly, he didn't know. Maybe in his walls. Or perhaps his reputation and his power that could bring fear to most people. Noritoshi doesn't care. His confidence only brought benefits to him.
Noritoshi's eyes moved through the shadows, his eyes scanning the minimap. The icons were still clustered near the main house—guards, servants, the fat, pulsing dot that was Rabiel himself. Ren and Motoyasu were still being led around the mansion and soon, they're probably going to get a whole tour on Rabiel's territory that he's so proud of.
Good. They still have quite a little bit of time left.
Welst knelt in the center of the cell block, his hands raised and his eyes closed. The soft blue light of healing magic bloomed from his palms, spreading outward in gentle waves, washing over the children who huddled against the walls. Naofumi stood behind him, his shield glowing with a soft light that many people had learned to recognize over the past weeks—the Shield Hero's blessing, amplifying everything around him. Healing spells grew stronger. Where courage grew steadier, hope grew brighter.
Noritoshi still couldn't fully understand Welst when he chanted. Despite his efforts to study this world's language, magic chant's meaning somehow always escaped him. Like a water that couldn't be grasped with his bare hands, he feels like he's lacking something.
He could hear them, could almost feel their shape, but their meaning remained just out of reach.
Now that he thought about it, why was it that only magic chanting was not translated into a language he knew? He could speak to anyone in this world without issue. The Legendary Weapon's translation magic worked perfectly for everything except the one thing that mattered most.
No. He was getting distracted. Focus.
He turned his attention back to the cell block where Welst and Naofumi began their work with the children.
The youngest ones... it's clear both Naofumi and Welst have the hardest time with them. They had been here the longest, their bodies small, their eyes hollow, their limbs trembling with a weakness that no amount of healing magic could immediately fix. Welst moved among them with a gentleness that surprised Noritoshi—the man who said it himself that he's quite awkward with children and would rather debate about politics was now kneeling in the dirt, holding a child's hand, murmuring comforting words, warmth and a fragile sense of safety.
"It's alright. You're safe now. We're going to take you home."
The girl with the matted hair—the one who had tried to comfort the others—stared at Welst with eyes that did not quite believe him. Her arms were wrapped around a smaller child, a boy with rabbit ears who had not stopped shaking since they arrived.
"Home?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "I don't have that anymore…"
Noritoshi felt something crack in his chest. He knelt down across from her, his bow set aside, his hands empty.
"Home is wherever you want it to be," he said. "It's somewhere safe. A place somewhere no one will hurt you again. Home is...a place of warmth and safety."
She looked at him. Her eyes were old, older than they should have been, older than any child's eyes should ever be. It reminded him of his own eyes when he was young. Desperately carving a place in the clan while enduring things no child his age should ever experience.
"That's not real," she said. "That place doesn't exist."
"Then we'll build it." Noritoshi's voice was steady. "We'll build it together. You and me and everyone else who wants to help. We'll make a place where you and everyone else here don't have to be afraid. Where you don't have to fear about cold, hunger, or fearing pain. I promise."
The boy who had thrown his fury at them like a weapon had gone quiet. But he stood again, at the edge of the light, his arms wrapped around himself, his eyes fixed on Noritoshi's face.
"Why?" He asked, voice rough and cracked. "Why would you do that? You don't know us. You don't owe us anything."
Noritoshi turned. The boy stood at the edge of Welst's light, arms wrapped around himself, eyes fixed on Noritoshi's face with an intensity that seemed to burn through the dim.
"...You're right." Noritoshi knelt again, bringing himself to the boy's level. "But that doesn't matter. You see, when I was about your age, I promised my mother that I'd become a sorcerer who could help people."
The boy's expression didn't change. His eyes stayed hard, suspicious. Noritoshi could see that he wasn't convinced.
He glanced over his shoulder at Naofumi. "Well, besides that, it's within my responsibility as a hero to save people, right?"
Naofumi looked up from where he was helping a small child to her feet. His face was smudged and stained with things Noritoshi didn't want to name, but his voice was steady when he spoke.
"Yeah. That's what heroes do. The Bow and Shield Heroes have the responsibility to watch out and protect people in this world. Isn't that right, kids?"
The children went still.
Noritoshi watched it happen—the shift from suspicion to something else, something fragile and terrifying and desperately hopeful. Wide eyes. Stopped breaths. Small hands clutching at torn clothes.
"Hero?" The girl with the matted hair whispered the word like it might burn her.
"That couldn't mean…" Another child, pressed against the wall, voice trembling.
"No way…" The boy took a step forward, his fists unclenching. "You're the Shield and Bow Hero?"
As if something crumbled when they heard that, the boy's legs gave out. He didn't fall—Kairn caught him, her spear clattering to the floor, her arms wrapping around him before he hit the ground. He buried his face in her shoulder and made a sound that was not quite a sob and not quite a laugh.
The girl with the matted hair was crying, silent tears cutting tracks through the grime on her cheeks. The smaller children were pressing closer, reaching out, touching the edges of Welst's light like they were afraid it would disappear.
Noritoshi stayed where he was, kneeling on the stone floor, his bow set aside, his hands empty. He let them come to him. He let them touch his arm, his cloak, the edge of his boot. He let them find out for themselves that he was real.
"We're getting you out," he said quietly. "All of you. Tonight."
The boy with the torn ears looked up from Kairn's shoulder, his face wet, his eyes bright. "You promise?"
Noritoshi met his gaze.
"I promise."
Then something flashed on his minimap.
Three new icons, bright red against the grey stone of the corridor. Moving fast and they're coming this way.
Noritoshi's hand tightened on his bow. He had expected this—guards changing shifts, or drawn by the noise, or simply following a schedule they couldn't have known about. The plan accounted for it. They had prepared for it.
He gently pried the children's hands off him. One small lizard child had wrapped her arms around his back, her claws digging into his cloak, her face pressed between his shoulder blades. He peeled her off carefully, prying each finger one by one, and passed her to Welst.
"Stay with them," he said quietly. "Keep them calm. Get them ready to move."
Naofumi nodded, already positioning himself between the children and the corridor, his shield raised. Welst's healing light dimmed to a faint glow, just enough to see by, not enough to draw attention.
Kairn fell in beside Noritoshi as he moved toward the corridor. Her spear was in her hand, her footsteps silent on the stone. She didn't ask questions. She already knew enough that she didn't need to.
They took positions in the shadows just before the guards rounded the corner.
Noritoshi's blood answered his call. It flowed from his palm, shaping itself into a thin rope, the end hardening into a curved hook. He sent it upward, where it caught on a beam in the ceiling, and he pulled himself into the darkness above. His body pressed flat against the stone, his breathing slowed, his eyes fixed on the corridor below.
Kairn melted into an alcove on the opposite wall, her spear angled, her body still.
The guards came around the corner. Three of them, their armor dull, their spears lowered, their conversation low and casual. They weren't expecting anything. They were just walking their route, just passing the time, just doing the job they had done a hundred times before.
The first guard passed beneath Noritoshi. The second followed. The third was still in the corridor, his back to Kairn's alcove.
Kairn moved first. Her spear took the third guard in the throat before he could make a sound. He dropped, his weapon clattering against the stone, and Kairn caught him before he hit the ground, lowering him silently.
The second guard turned at the noise. Noritoshi's blood was already moving. A thin strand separated from the rope, snaking down through the air, finding the man's ear. He didn't feel it enter. He didn't feel anything until the blood reached his brain and hardened.
He was dead before he hit the floor.
The first guard spun, his spear raised, his mouth opening to shout. Noritoshi dropped from the ceiling, his hand clamping over the man's mouth, his blood already finding its way through the other ear. The guard's eyes went wide. His body convulsed once, twice, and then went still.
Noritoshi held him until he was sure, then lowered him to the floor beside his companions.
Three bodies. There should be no sound nor alarm.
He looked at Kairn. She was already dragging the bodies into the alcove, stacking them behind a crate, covering them with a torn canvas tarp.
Noritoshi wiped his hands on his cloak and turned back toward the cell block.
The children were waiting. Welst had them on their feet, the youngest ones in his arms, the others holding hands in a chain. Naofumi stood at the front, his shield raised, his eyes scanning the corridor beyond.
Noritoshi nodded once.
"Let's move."
The children were calm now, but most of them had problems walking. Malnutrition and muscle deterioration had stolen their strength, leaving them trembling and weak. Welst's healing magic had closed wounds and mended bones, but it couldn't restore what months of starvation had taken. Noritoshi watched a boy try to stand, his legs buckling beneath him.
And there were fewer children here than they had expected. The intelligence from Beloukas's network had suggested more, many more. No one said anything when they realized the truth—that there used to be more of them. The confession was quiet, almost casual, spoken by a girl with hollow eyes who did not seem to understand the weight of her own words. Noritoshi shoved that knowledge into a bottle and sealed it tight. There would be time to grieve later. There was no time now.
They couldn't carry everyone. Welst's magic was good, especially with Naofumi's shield boosting it, but it couldn't restore nutrition or muscle. The children needed food, rest, weeks of care they didn't have. And the guards would not stay undiscovered forever.
Noritoshi looked at his hands. There was another way.
His reverse cursed technique was pathetic. He had never been able to master it the way other sorcerers could. Where they felt warmth, a gentle flow of healing energy through their bodies, he felt nothing. Only the familiar movement of his blood, the same as any other when he activates his cursed technique. When he tried to heal himself, his body automatically converted the energy into blood, leaving him with barely any benefit. It was wasteful, inefficient, and embarrassing for someone of his lineage.
But when he outputs it to others, the full effect appeared.
It would cost him. A lot. And by a lot, he meant a lot of cursed energy.
He began.
White light bloomed around his hands, soft and steady. It was not the gentle blue of Welst's healing magic. It was something else, something that felt more like creation than repair. The children watched him with wide eyes as he knelt beside a girl whose legs had forgotten how to hold her.
"Noritoshi…" Welst's voice was accusatory. "You never said you could heal."
"It's because my healing is unreliable and wasteful."
"Wasteful?"
Noritoshi did not look up. He placed his hands on the girl's shoulders and let the technique flow. He felt the cursed energy drain from him in waves, felt his reserves drop faster than they ever had in combat. The girl gasped. Her legs straightened. Color returned to her cheeks.
"Reverse cursed technique," Noritoshi said, his voice tight with effort. "It produces something like a healing energy. Most sorcerers describe it as feeling warmth in their body. I don't. To me, it feels like moving blood with my technique. Nothing more."
He moved to the next child, a boy with sunken eyes and trembling hands.
"When I use it on myself, my body automatically converts the energy into blood. I get minimal healing. It's almost useless. But when I output it to other people—" He placed his hands on the boy's chest. The white light flared. "—the full effect appears."
The boy's hands stopped trembling. His back straightened. He looked down at his own fingers like he was seeing them for the first time.
"I still can't feel it," Noritoshi admitted. "I have no sense of whether it's working until I see the results. And I waste so much. So much because of my own incompetence." He moved to the next child, and the next, and the next. "But reverse cursed technique is miraculous. Even a novice like me can restore things that should take weeks. Malnutrition. Muscle deterioration. The damage of months in a cage."
His cursed energy reserves were dropping. He could feel the emptiness spreading through him, a cold hollow where warmth should have been. He kept going.
Welst was staring at him. Naofumi was staring at him. Even Kairn had stopped watching the corridor to look at what he was doing.
"How much does it cost you?" Naofumi asked quietly.
Noritoshi did not answer. He moved to the girl with the matted hair, the one who had tried to comfort the others. She looked up at him with eyes that were still too old, still too tired, but something in them had begun to change.
"Enough," he said finally. "It costs enough."
He placed his hands on her shoulders and let the light flow. Her hair did not unmat. Her scars did not fade. But her eyes grew clearer, and when he helped her to her feet, she did not fall.
He stood, swaying slightly, and looked at the children. They were all on their feet now. All of them. Some still looked fragile, still looked like a strong wind might knock them over, but they were standing.
"We need to begin," Noritoshi said. His voice was steady. His hands were not. "Now."
Noritoshi surveyed the cell block, his breathing shallow, his cursed energy reserves hovering somewhere near empty. The white glow had faded from his hands, leaving behind a faint tremor he couldn't quite suppress. He had healed as many as he could, pushed as far as he dared.
"Kairn. Seal the corridor."
She moved without a word, then positioned herself at the narrow entrance to the cell block. Her spear angled across the opening, her body low, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond. She could hold that corridor against a dozen men if she had to. Noritoshi trusted her to do it.
"Naofumi. The far wall. If anyone comes through the other entrance, you're the only one who can hold them."
Naofumi nodded, his shield already raised, his feet planted. He moved to the secondary doorway—a narrow arch that led to a stairwell Noritoshi's minimap showed as unused for who knows how long. The Shield Hero positioned himself in the center of the arch, his body filling the gap. No one would get past him.
"Welst. Keep the children quiet. Keep them together. If we have to move fast, I need you to lead them."
Welst's hands were still glowing with the soft blue of healing magic, but his face was eeriely calm. He gathered the children against the far wall, the youngest ones pressed close to his sides, the older ones forming a protective ring around them. He spoke to them in a low, steady voice—not instructions, not commands, just words. Stories, maybe. Or promises. Noritoshi couldn't hear what he was saying, but he saw the children's shoulders relax, saw their breathing slow.
The cell block was as secure as they could make it. The entrance was narrow, the walls were thick, and the only ways in were the two corridors they had already blocked. If Rabiel's guards came, they would die in those corridors. Noritoshi would make sure of it.
He checked his minimap. Ren and Motoyasu were still moving through the main house, their icons trailing behind Rabiel's. They had bought him time. Almost two hours, somehow, with nothing but smiles and empty promises. He would thank them later.
He looked at the children one last time. Their eyes. They were scared. But they were also hoping. And thus, Noritoshi Kamo, the Bow Hero, steeled himself.
"Stay here," he said. "Stay quiet. I'll be back."
He turned and walked toward the corridor, toward the stairs that led up to the estate grounds. Kairn caught his arm as he passed.
"Alone?"
"Alone. I'm faster alone. And if something goes wrong, you're the only one who can hold this place."
She studied him for a moment, then released his arm. "Don't die."
"I don't intend to."
He stepped into the corridor and began to climb.
The stairs were narrow and the walls were too close to each other, which somehow made the darkness feels absolute. Noritoshi moved with his bow raised, his minimap pulsing softly in the corner of his vision. The passage was empty. The floors above were empty. The kitchen, when he passed it, was silent—no servants, no cooks, no guards. Just cold stoves and half-prepared dishes and a pot of soup that had been left to burn.
He stopped.
This was wrong. The minimap showed no one in the kitchen, no one in the corridors, no one anywhere near him. But there should have been people. Rabiel was hosting Heroes. There should have been servants scrambling to prepare a feast and staff moving through the halls with trays and linens and the thousand small things that made a noble's hospitality run smoothly.
There was nothing.
He checked the minimap for Ren and Motoyasu.
His blood went cold.
They were moving quite fast. They shouldn't be. They're on a tour after all. And yet reality says otherwise. Their icons were no longer following Rabiel's path through the mansion—they were sprinting, weaving through corridors, pausing, sprinting again. Combat icons flickered around them. Red. Hostile. Too many to count.
What? Why? How?
Just a moment ago, everything had been going well.
The plan had been working.
Now his friends were running for their lives, and Noritoshi didn't know why.
He didn't have time to figure it out. His minimap showed another cluster of icons—larger, organized, moving with purpose. An army. Heading straight for his position. No, maybe just a coincidence. But they were definitely going straight for the dungeon where the children were waiting.
Damnit.
[Flowing Red Scale: Stack]
Double red marks blazed across his eyes, the technique pushing his body past its limits. His muscles screamed. His vision tunneled. But he didn't care and ran.
The stairs blurred beneath him. Corridors flashed past. He burst onto the rooftop, the night air slamming into him, the stars spinning overhead. He changed his bow mid-stride—Fireworks Bow, the one form he had never expected to have any use for something like this.
He fired.
The arrow streaked into the sky, trailing white fire, and exploded in a shower of crimson sparks. The signal. The worst-case signal. The one that meant everything had gone wrong.
Noritoshi was running on empty. His cursed energy reserves, already depleted by the reverse cursed technique, were barely a flicker. He could fight. He could hold. He could not do both for long.
He looked toward the main house, where Ren and Motoyasu were still fighting. Bara and Rhea were with them—massive, steady Bara, and Rhea with her twin blades and her sharp eyes. They would hold. They had to hold.
Noritoshi crouched on the rooftop, his bow in his hand, his breathing ragged, and waited for the army to arrive.
All he could do now was hold out.
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Yooo, guys. Author here.
First off, I owe you all a massive apology for suddenly disappearing.
I know, I know—"author vanishes again, classic." But I swear on everything I love, this time it wasn't procrastination or burnout or the usual writing gremlins.
A LITERAL TREE FELL INTO MY HOUSE.
Lightning struck it, the thing snapped like a twig, and it crashed RIGHT INTO MY ROOM. Like, through the ceiling. Into the space where I was sitting approximately five seconds before I got up to get water.
I legit almost died, bruh. What the hell??
So yeah. Been dealing with insurance, roof repairs and whatnot.
But I'm back now. The tree is gone. The ceiling is (mostly) fixed. Rain still leaks through so that's a little bummer.