At the edge of sight, darkness writhed.
It wasn't nightfall, but a tide of crows beyond counting.
They blanketed the sky in swarms, black shadows shredding all light. The thunder of wings was like torrential rain, a rolling storm cloud advancing.
No one could tally their number—thousands? Tens of thousands? All anyone knew was that when the low-hanging living storm cloud moved, the ground below sank into a dim, wing-beaten dusk.
Every crow's blood-red eyes gleamed in the dark with ominous chill.
The air reeked of fetid wind, tainted with rot and rust.
Now and then, one gave a hoarse shriek—not birdsong, but a warped laugh that made scalps crawl.
The living cloud pressed down, the ruined city behind sinking into silence—as if they had devoured everything there, and now turned on the survivors.
Only two figures moved within that storm. The terror of the flocks circled them.
They seemed like reaper and witch, or some nameless avatars of judgment.
It didn't take long. The survivors were just outside the city, close enough that when the crows left it, they descended upon them at once.
Soon, people saw clearly the two forms beneath the swarms.
Not abominations—just two girls.
Yet, no one mistook them for ordinary. With the crows wheeling above, and the aura they exuded, they felt wholly inhuman.
Skins worn by some unknown monsters.
Yet many quickly recognized Zeroy.
In their eyes, fear and elation tangled.
...
Zeroy first searched the crowd for a familiar face.
A certain chubby boy—there. She released his bindings. Kohta Hirano gasped for breath, freed at last.
Immobility had been torture, especially with danger pressing close.
However, now, he wasn't afraid. Zeroy was here. Nothing else mattered.
"Lady Zeroy! You—you finally returned!"
Compared to a month ago, Kohta looked thinner, worn, nearly moved to tears.
His feelings echoed the rest. He had known, from the start, what her protection meant. He knew how cruel this apocalypse was.
The others hadn't. Some even pitied zombies.
After a month of suffering, they nearly worshiped her as savior—the savior they had lost.
"Kohta, where's your lover?"
Zeroy was glad to see him alive and free of black mist. But she didn't see the girl with him.
"Aiko... Aiko was just here with me—!"
Snatched from joy, panic seized him. He looked around wildly, yet saw no trace of her.
Zeroy's brow eased. Alive, then. Just scattered in transit.
"Now, your hands can move. Whoever Kohta Hirano's lover is, raise your hand."
Whether from fear of Zeroy or hard lessons of the apocalypse, no one resisted. Only one girl raised her hand.
Zeroy freed her, reuniting them.
Then she lifted the silence spell on all.
"Now—I ask, you answer. Say nothing else. Or I'll feed you to zombies."
She slashed the ground, a sword aura tearing a trench dozens of meters long.
"..."
The rising clamor died.
"You fear these flocks. Why?"
"..."
"T-they're death gods... they bring death..."
Voices shook.
Fear always birthed gods for the unknown.
From fragments, Zeroy learned: the flocks followed corpse mountains, and whenever they neared, people heard their cries.
To Tokonosu's people, crow-cries were death knells—literally.
Zeroy drove her Striker Blade into the dirt for silence.
"Besides that—have they ever attacked humans?"
"..."
One began to speak, then stopped.
Terror was certain. But when asked directly—had they attacked?—uncertainty replaced dread.
They looked at each other, surprised to find no one had seen it.
"I... don't think so. At least, I never saw them attack..." Kohta murmured.
His lover added, "Me neither. They were always around corpse mountains... or perched roadside... or eating corpses..."
Others agreed. None had seen attacks. Some had even witnessed corpse mountains swiping at the flocks.
Only two had seen it, rare enough to doubt—though still…
Zeroy turned to the nearby crows and vultures. They perched like any birds, hopping about, tilting heads.
When she looked, they tilted back.
So they hadn't attacked humans… Even with testimony, certainty was impossible. Perhaps—
The flocks warned people of danger, only to be mistaken as bearers of doom.
Or—they scouted prey for corpse mountains, leaving the kill to others.
Zeroy leaned toward the former. They bore no black mist of {evil}.
But why? Why feed on corpses, yet never harm the living? Why, even mutated, did they seem to aid humanity?
...
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