Toki did not notice the wind at first.
He sat hunched on the cracked edge of the fountain, his burned hands covering his face while quiet sobs shook his shoulders. The water beneath him trembled gently in the cold night air, reflecting broken fragments of the ruined plaza around him—collapsed roofs, shattered statues, and the still forms of the dead scattered like discarded dolls across the stone streets.
The city had become a graveyard.
Smoke drifted lazily upward from distant ruins, blurring the stars above. Somewhere far away, a building finally gave way to the damage inflicted hours earlier, collapsing with a low groan that echoed through the silent capital like the dying breath of a wounded animal.
Toki barely heard it.
Inside his mind there was only noise.
Memories.
Screams.
The feeling of warm blood running over his hands.
The sound of Utsuki's body hitting the ground.
His chest tightened again.
He felt something break deeper inside him.
Then—
A warm hand touched his shoulder.
The contact was gentle. Careful.
For a moment Toki froze, unable to react. His mind refused to accept the sensation. In a world where everything had died, warmth felt impossible.
Then a familiar voice spoke behind him.
"Is there room for one more person?"
The words were quiet, tired—but unmistakable.
Toki's body trembled violently as he slowly lifted his head.
When he turned, the world blurred again.
From tears.
"Smith…" he whispered hoarsely.
Standing behind him was Gerald Smith.
His once immaculate coat was torn in several places, dark with dried blood. His hair was disheveled, and exhaustion hung on his face like a shadow that refused to leave. Yet his posture remained straight, stubbornly dignified even in the middle of a destroyed kingdom.
When Toki saw him, the fragile barrier inside his chest shattered completely.
His breathing broke into uneven gasps.
And he began crying harder than before.
Childlike.
Desperate.
Gerald said nothing at first.
He simply walked forward and sat beside Toki on the stone rim of the fountain. The cold marble creaked faintly beneath their combined weight.
For a long moment the old man studied his student.
Then, slowly, he lifted his arm and wiped Toki's tears away with the bloodstained sleeve of his coat.
The gesture was strangely gentle.
The way someone might comfort a child who had scraped his knee for the first time.
Gerald sighed quietly.
"If you came back here…" he said in a weary voice, "then there must be nothing left for you at the manor."
Toki's lips trembled.
"I… I killed them," he stammered.
The words felt like broken glass in his throat.
"I killed them all…!"
His voice cracked violently.
"…Me. I did it."
Gerald's eyes lowered slightly.
Before Toki could continue, the old man interrupted him.
"I thought so."
Toki blinked, stunned.
Gerald looked down at his own hands.
They were stained with soot, blood, and the fine gray dust of shattered stone. For a moment he turned them slowly, as if examining the marks left by everything that had happened that night.
Then he spoke quietly.
"In the end… I believe I would have done the same."
The words hit Toki like a blow.
"What…?" he whispered.
Toki's voice shook as he continued.
"I failed," he said bitterly. "I can't do anything right. Every path I choose leads to death. Every decision I make only makes things worse. All the odds are against me."
Gerald leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
For a moment he said nothing.
Then he exhaled slowly.
"I failed too."
The confession came without hesitation.
"The kingdom is doomed," he continued quietly. "And we remain as the last ghosts who can testify that it once existed."
His eyes drifted across the destroyed plaza.
The burned houses.
The broken banners of the royal guard lying in the dirt.
The charred corpses left where they had fallen.
"These dragons…" he muttered. "They burned everything."
A bitter smile touched his lips.
"Who would have thought that Reginald and Rosalin would plan a massacre like this?"
His voice grew softer.
"My Lorelay is dead," he said.
The name lingered in the cold air between them.
"I never even found the courage to tell her that I loved her."
His hand tightened slightly against his knee.
"My students sacrificed themselves… just so I could sit here licking my wounds in ruins that have already forgotten my name."
The wind passed quietly through the plaza.
Snowflakes began drifting down from the dark sky, slow and silent.
Toki's voice came out hoarse.
"Smith… what should I do?"
He stared at the ground like a condemned man awaiting judgment.
"I slaughtered the very hands that always reached out to me with kindness," he whispered. "I became a monster."
His breathing shook again.
"I even killed Utsuki."
The name broke something inside him.
"I swore on my sword… and on my heart… that I would protect her."
His fingers curled into the stone beneath him.
"I told myself I did it because I loved her," he continued weakly. "But now… I don't even know if that love was real anymore."
He raised his head slowly, his expression hollow.
"What if those feelings were planted in me by someone else?"
The thought felt poisonous.
"What kind of creature could kill a monster like me, Smith?" he asked bitterly.
His eyes burned with exhaustion.
"Who would be willing to stain their hands with my blood now?"
He laughed weakly.
"I wanted to move forward. I tried so hard to keep walking… but now there's nowhere left for me to go."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Gerald spoke.
"Are you looking for comfort from me," he asked calmly, "or do you want me to kill you?"
Toki blinked in shock.
"You won't find either from me."
The old man's voice hardened.
"You must take responsibility for what you've done."
His gaze turned forward again.
"…Just like I must."
Toki remained silent.
Gerald continued slowly.
"I am not worthy of giving advice anymore," he said.
"You came to me asking for help… and what did I do?"
He let out a humorless laugh.
"I slapped you in the face to protect you from Conor."
His expression darkened.
"But instead of protecting you… I threw you straight into the dragon's mouth."
The wind carried the faint smell of burning wood through the plaza.
Gerald closed his eyes briefly.
"What does it matter what he thinks now?" he muttered.
Then he gestured around them.
"Look around you."
His voice dropped.
"Who is the master of these ruins now?"
Snow began settling on the broken streets.
Toki said nothing.
Gerald studied him carefully.
"I know who you are, Toki."
His tone softened slightly.
"And I don't believe what you felt can be replicated by someone else."
He looked toward the distant silhouette of the manor on the horizon.
"You… Utsuki… the people at that manor…"
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"You tried to build a family."
He shook his head slowly.
"It was full of gaps. Broken pieces. Unresolved pain."
His eyes returned to Toki.
"But it helped you take your first steps forward."
The old man's expression grew serious again.
"However," he continued quietly, "I believe you still haven't discovered what the real problem is."
Toki frowned weakly.
"And that," Gerald finished, "is the most dangerous part of all."
Toki lifted his head slightly, his voice rough and filled with exhaustion.
"Why…?" he muttered.
Gerald glanced at him.
Toki's eyes were unfocused, staring somewhere past the shattered buildings.
"Why does everyone talk to me in riddles?" he said, his voice slowly rising with frustration. "You… Leonard… everyone. You speak in metaphors and half-answers and expect me to understand everything."
His hands tightened on the stone rim of the fountain.
"You all act like I'm supposed to fix this."
He turned toward Gerald suddenly, anger flickering through the grief.
"You speak like the answer is obvious!" he snapped. "Like I should just stand up and solve everything!"
Gerald watched him quietly for a moment.
Then the old man lifted his hand.
Slowly, deliberately, he extended one finger and pressed it firmly against the center of Toki's chest.
"You've understood the problem backwards," Gerald said calmly.
His voice was not harsh.
But it carried the weight of certainty.
"No one expects anything from you."
The words landed like a stone dropping into deep water.
Toki blinked.
"…What?"
Gerald did not remove his finger from Toki's chest.
"Listen carefully," he said. "Because this may be the only time I say it."
He leaned slightly closer.
"I never asked anything from you."
His finger pressed a little harder.
"Utsuki never asked anything from you."
He gestured slowly toward the ruined city surrounding them.
"And no one in this kingdom asked anything from you either."
The wind stirred again, lifting loose ash across the square.
Toki felt something shift inside his mind.
Gerald continued.
"You have lived alone for so long," the old man said quietly, "that gratitude and love have clouded your vision."
Toki's breathing slowed.
Gerald's words were not cruel.
They were precise.
"Your love fed your pride."
Toki stiffened.
"You believed you could take everyone's pain and carry it yourself," Gerald went on. "You believed you could shoulder every burden alone and protect everyone around you."
His gaze sharpened.
"But the truth is far less noble."
The words came like a blade.
"You were too proud to trust us."
Toki felt his fists clench instinctively.
Gerald did not stop.
"You thought you were protecting people," he said.
"But in reality…"
His voice hardened slightly.
"…you made everyone around you weaker."
The statement cut deeper than any insult.
Toki's fists trembled violently at his sides.
For a moment anger surged through him.
Slowly…
his fingers loosened.
The tension left his hands.
Because somewhere deep inside, he realized Gerald was right.
Gerald noticed the change.
The old man nodded faintly.
"You said earlier that you tried to solve this problem in every possible way," he continued. "That you reached the conclusion there was no solution."
He tilted his head slightly.
"But tell me something, Toki."
His voice lowered.
"Did you try solving it as Toki?"
The question lingered in the cold air.
Toki frowned weakly.
"…What does that even mean?"
Gerald continued without hesitation.
"Did you allow others into your plans?"
Toki's eyes darkened.
"I tried," he said bitterly.
Images flashed through his mind.
The ambush.
Fire raining down from above.
"We made a plan," he continued quietly. "We worked together."
His jaw tightened.
"And the dragons surrounded us."
The words tasted like ash.
"They killed everyone."
The snow continued falling around them.
Gerald listened carefully.
Then he shook his head slightly.
"That plan was too perfect."
Toki blinked.
"…What?"
Gerald leaned back a little.
"It was too solid," he said. "Too convenient. Too rigid."
His eyes studied Toki carefully.
"You do not think like that."
Toki stared at him in confusion.
Gerald gestured with one hand as he spoke.
"You have never won your battles by following perfect plans," he explained. "You have always won because you did something else."
The old man tapped the side of his head.
"You take a massive problem… something overwhelming… something impossible."
His hand moved slowly through the air.
"And you break it apart."
His fingers separated, illustrating the idea.
"You turn one giant problem into dozens of smaller ones."
His voice softened slightly.
"And then you solve each of those problems with a different method."
A faint smile appeared on Gerald's face.
"That is how you survive."
Toki stared at the ground again.
Gerald leaned forward slightly.
"If you want advice," he said quietly, "then here it is."
He pointed toward Toki again.
"Find out who Toki really is."
The wind blew across the square, carrying snow between them.
"And find out why Toki is such a remarkable man."
Toki looked up slowly.
Gerald's gaze was steady.
"Because the person sitting in front of me right now…"
He paused.
"…is not Toki."
The statement struck deeper than any accusation.
Toki's voice came out strained.
"But people will die," he said weakly.
The words sounded childish even to him.
Gerald's response was immediate.
The old man raised his hand and lightly knocked his knuckles against the top of Toki's head.
The impact was not painful.
But it was firm enough to snap Toki out of his spiral.
"Are they not already dead?" Gerald said bluntly.
Toki froze.
Gerald's voice carried no cruelty.
Only harsh honesty.
"Every living being must prove their right to live through their own strength," he continued.
His eyes moved slowly across the ruined city.
"You can train them."
"You can guide them."
"You can help them grow stronger."
Then he looked directly at Toki again.
"But you do not have the right to decide how their story ends."
The words fell heavily between them.
Gerald's voice hardened slightly.
"Have some humility."
Toki lowered his gaze to the ground.
Inside his chest something unfamiliar stirred.
It was not rage.
It was not despair.
It was something quieter.
Something heavier.
Shame.
Gerald sighed softly.
"There are many ways to extinguish a fire," he said after a moment.
His eyes watched the distant smoke rising from the ruins.
"And no matter how strange or unorthodox a method may seem…"
He shrugged faintly.
"If it works, then that is all that matters."
Gerald closed his eyes briefly.
"It would have been nice if we had this conversation earlier," he admitted quietly.
His voice carried a hint of regret.
"But that is no longer possible."
He looked up at the sky.
"Even if we could turn time backward…"
His gaze returned to the destroyed city.
"…time would still continue moving forward afterward."
"And that," he said quietly, "is exactly what we must do as well."
Gerald Smith slowly pushed himself up from the edge of the shattered fountain. For a moment he stood there in silence, his joints stiff, his coat heavy with dried blood and ash. The snow that had begun falling moments earlier now clung to the fabric of his shoulders, settling into the deep creases of a man who had lived far too long and seen far too much.
He did not look at Toki.
Instead, he turned his gaze toward the empty streets of the ruined capital.
The once-proud city had become something unrecognizable. Towers that had once gleamed in the sun were broken silhouettes against the dark sky. The royal banners that had flown above the palace walls now lay trampled in mud and blood. Fires still smoldered here and there, their dying embers casting faint orange glows against the snow that slowly began to cover everything.
It looked less like a city now.
And more like the remains of a memory that the world had already begun to forget.
Gerald exhaled quietly.
Then he began to walk.
At first the sound of his boots on the stone was soft, almost lost beneath the whispering wind. But to Toki it sounded impossibly loud.
Because it meant something he wasn't ready to accept.
Toki blinked in confusion as he watched his master's back grow smaller.
For a second his mind refused to understand what was happening.
Then realization struck.
"Wait!"
Toki pushed himself to his feet abruptly, stumbling slightly as exhaustion fought against the sudden panic rising in his chest.
"Where are you going?" he called out.
His voice echoed faintly through the empty plaza.
Gerald stopped.
The old man stood still in the falling snow, his back turned to the student who had followed him for so many days.
But he did not turn around.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then he spoke quietly.
"You and I…"
The wind tugged at the edges of his coat.
"…are the last survivors."
His voice carried through the silence with strange clarity.
"We carry within us the memory of those who spilled their blood here."
Gerald's gaze drifted across the city once more.
The broken statues.
The frozen bodies.
The silent streets where laughter had once echoed.
"And because of that," he continued softly, "I refuse to die before passing that story on."
Toki's chest tightened.
Gerald lifted one hand slightly and pointed toward one of the distant roads leading out of the capital.
"I will walk in this direction."
Then he gestured vaguely toward the opposite side of the city.
"And you… you can go in any other."
His voice softened slightly.
"This is my final lesson to you, my dear student."
The words hit Toki like a blade.
For a moment he simply stood there, staring at the man .
Then something inside him broke.
His legs gave out beneath him.
Toki collapsed to his knees in the snow.
The cold barely registered.
"Wait…!"
His voice cracked, raw with desperation.
"Please…!"
He leaned forward, one hand pressed against the frozen ground as his breathing became uneven.
"I still need you!"
The words echoed weakly through the empty square.
Gerald's shoulders tensed.
For a moment the old man looked as if he might turn around.
But he didn't.
He closed his eyes instead.
The expression on his face twisted with a mixture of pain and quiet longing.
"You have no idea," he murmured, barely loud enough to be heard over the wind, "how much I wanted to hear those words."
Snowflakes settled into his hair.
"But…"
He took a slow breath.
"…it's too late for an old fool like me."
Gerald opened his eyes again.
Then he began walking once more.
"Toki."
The name carried softly behind him.
"You will remain the strongest student I have ever had."
Toki lifted his head slightly.
Gerald continued walking without looking back.
"Your potential," he said, "is far greater than the borders of this kingdom."
His boots left deep impressions in the thin layer of snow.
"That is why…"
His voice became quieter.
"…I cannot remain in your path any longer."
The words felt final.
Gerald paused briefly before continuing.
"Create a destiny that no one can steal from you."
The wind carried his voice across the ruined city.
"And if one day you truly discover who Toki is…"
He allowed himself the faintest smile.
"…then I know you will become unstoppable."
Toki watched helplessly as the distance between them grew.
Gerald's figure slowly shrank against the endless ruins.
The old man lifted one hand in a small, almost casual gesture of farewell.
"I wish you a good life," he said quietly.
"I do not believe we will meet again."
His voice softened further.
"But if the gods show mercy to two creatures like us…"
He paused.
"…perhaps we will meet again in the next life."
Then he kept walking.
Toki remained kneeling in the snow, his body too heavy to move, his mind too numb to speak.
All he could do was watch.
Gerald's silhouette slowly dissolved into the falling snow and the broken shapes of the city.
Step by step.
Until the old man was gone.
The plaza fell silent once again.
Toki stared at the empty street long after Gerald had disappeared.
The wind whispered through the ruins like a quiet elegy.
Slowly, the last light of dusk faded beyond the horizon.
Night settled over the destroyed capital.
Snow began to fall more heavily now.
White flakes drifted through the air and gently covered the broken stones, the scattered weapons, and the countless unmoving bodies that lay where they had fallen.
It was as if the world itself had decided to bury the memory of what had happened here beneath a silent blanket.
Toki remained alone beside the fountain.
Completely alone.
For the first time since meeting Utsuki…
Since the manor…
There was no one left beside him.
The city that had once been alive was now nothing more than a frozen grave.
The ruins of the palace offered little protection from the wind, but they were enough.
Toki stepped through the shattered gates without a sound.
The snow had begun to pile against the fallen marble columns and broken statues, softening the brutal shapes of destruction beneath a quiet white veil. What had once been the proud seat of a kingdom now looked like the skeleton .
Yet the silence inside the palace felt different.
He moved through the corridors like a ghost wandering through memories that no longer belonged to him.
Bodies lay where they had fallen during the final chaos. Knights in shattered armor. Servants who had tried to flee.
The only sound was the faint crunch of snow beneath Toki's boots.
His expression remained hollow as he walked past them.
Eventually he reached the great doors of the throne room.
One of them hung crooked from its hinges. The other had been torn from the frame entirely.
Toki stepped inside.
The enormous chamber still carried the faded echoes of its former grandeur. Torn banners hung from the ceiling like wounded birds. The long crimson carpet leading to the throne had been stained black with dried blood.
At the center of the room lay the body of the king.
Or what remained of it.
King Mathias' corpse rested near the base of the throne, slumped awkwardly against the steps like a discarded puppet. His crown had rolled several meters away and now sat half-buried beneath the snow drifting in through the broken roof.
Toki's eyes passed over the body.
For a brief second his jaw tightened.
Then he forced himself to look away.
He walked past the corpse.
Up the steps.
Toward the throne.
The golden seat still stood where it always had, though one of its arms had been cracked during the chaos of the battle. Blood had dried across the carved dragon motifs along the sides.
Toki did not sit yet.
Instead, he walked behind it.
At the back of the throne room stood the massive stone wall.
Unlike the rest of the palace, it remained completely intact.
Not a single crack ran across its surface.
Toki raised his hand slowly and placed his palm against the cold stone.
His fingers traced the carvings that decorated the wall.
He closed his eyes briefly.
If the King of Dragons truly rested behind this wall…
Then the thickness of the stone and the sheer height of the chamber could only mean one thing.
Whatever creature slept there was colossal.
Large enough that even a royal throne room had been designed around its existence.
Toki lowered his hand.
Then he returned to the front of the throne.
This time he sat.
The cold metal pressed against his back.
For a moment he simply stared forward at the empty hall.
Then a faint memory surfaced.
He remembered another loop.
In that version of events, he had sat on this exact throne.
And pulled the trigger.
The echo of the gunshot still seemed to linger somewhere in the back of his mind.
Back then it had felt logical.
An inevitable conclusion.
But now…
He exhaled slowly.
Logical did not always mean correct.
Running away had never solved anything.
And dying…
Dying had only restarted the nightmare.
Toki rested his elbows on his knees and lowered his head.
If there was no escape…
Then the only path left was forward.
He stood again.
Without another glance at the throne room, he left the palace the same way he had entered—quietly, silently, like a shadow drifting through ruins.
By the time he reached the outskirts of the destroyed capital, the eastern horizon had begun to pale.
The sun was preparing to rise.
His destination lay far beyond the city.
The place where everything had started.
The Maho Manor.
The journey took hours.
The snow thickened as night slowly gave way to the pale gray of dawn. The wind had calmed, leaving the world eerily still.
Eventually the familiar outline of the manor appeared through the trees.
Toki slowed.
The building should have been burned to the ground.
He had seen it happen .
He had watched the flames consume its walls.
But this time…
The manor still stood.
There were scorch marks along the outer walls and several shattered windows, but the structure itself remained mostly intact.
Toki wasn't surprised.
After everything he had witnessed, very little still managed to shock him.
After all…
The Angel of Death had been involved.
He walked through the front gate quietly.
The courtyard was silent.
Snow had covered most of the ground, but certain shapes still remained visible beneath the white surface.
Toki passed the first one.
The remains of Tora.
A little further away…
Kandaki.
Their small forms had been preserved beneath the snow like fragile statues.
He stopped beside the old wooden barrel near the well.
The memory returned instantly.
That was where he had drowned Hana.
His chest tightened slightly.
The snow had covered the barrel as well, forming a strange protective layer over the horror hidden beneath.
He said nothing.
He continued walking.
Eventually he reached a small mound of snow near the edge of the courtyard.
Toki knelt down.
Slowly, he brushed the snow aside with his hands.
White flakes fell away to reveal the still form beneath.
Utsuki.
Her face looked peaceful now, untouched by the terror that had once filled her final moments.
Toki stared at her for a long time.
Then he gently lifted her body into his arms.
She felt impossibly light.
He pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
The words disappeared into the cold morning air.
Carrying her carefully, Toki walked toward the entrance of the manor.
The door creaked quietly as he pushed it open.
Inside…
Everything was exactly as he remembered.
The children's drawings still hung near the entrance.
Bright crayon lines depicting happy suns, smiling stick figures, and crude houses with crooked roofs.
Small memories of a life that had never truly existed.
The blood on the floor looked fresh.
It was as if the world itself had reconstructed the scene just to make sure he never forgot what he had done here.
Step by step, Toki walked through the corridors.
Every hallway echoed with silent accusations.
Every room carried the ghosts of laughter that had once filled the house.
Eventually he stopped in front of a familiar door.
The library.
For a moment he stood there quietly, Utsuki still resting in his arms.
Then he pushed the door open.
The room was dim.
The shelves remained exactly where they had always been.
The faint scent of old paper lingered in the air.
Toki stepped inside.
He looked into the darkness ahead.
Then he spoke.
"I've made a decision."