Vanishing Point
The cave behind the waterfall was alive in a way Ruko didn't like. Water thundered outside, shaking the stone beneath his boots, but that wasn't what set his nerves on edge. It was the second Sha-Obelisk fragment resting beside him, its presence no longer sharp or invasive, but settled—heavy, watchful, aware. The moment he finished claiming it, the runes carved into the cave walls had reacted, glowing faintly before dimming into something dormant, as if the fragment had decided it had seen enough for now.
His body felt different. Not healed, not restored, but steadier. The aching pressure behind his eyes had eased. His breathing no longer burned. Whatever damage Hans and the earlier strain had done, the fragment had nudged him back from the brink. Slight recovery. Nothing more. Then he felt movement. Not nearby—but coming. Voices carried through stone and water, distorted yet unmistakable. Shouting. Anger layered over fear. A lot of people. Too many to be coincidence.
Ruko's expression tightened as understanding settled in without needing explanation. Axis had chosen its enemy. Above the waterfall, the town had erupted. The appearance of a Demon General, the poisoning of the springs, the panic, the suffering—and then the sudden end of it all. People needed a cause. Someone to blame. Someone who wasn't one of them. Ruko fit too well. The fragment pulsed once, almost amused.
Ruko didn't argue with instinct. He turned and pressed his palm against a section of the cave wall that looked no different from the rest. Alchemical patterns—etched long before he ever set foot here—responded instantly to the fragment's resonance. Stone shifted soundlessly, parting just enough to reveal a narrow passage descending into darkness. He stepped through.
The wall sealed behind him as if it had never moved.
Above, the hunt began. Axis followers flooded the area around the waterfall, voices overlapping, accusations spilling faster than sense. Some shouted his name like a curse. Others called him a demon summoner, a corrupter, an enemy of the goddess. Fear warped faith into something sharp and reckless.
Aqua arrived soaked and furious, trying to stop it before it went too far. She shouted that Ruko had saved them, that Hans would have destroyed the town if not for him, that they were turning on the wrong person.
Her voice carried authority, desperation, and genuine hurt—but panic didn't care. "She's defending him!" "He brought Hans here!" "She's been influenced!" They didn't attack her. They didn't exile her. But they stopped listening—and that hurt her more than either option would have. By the time Kazuma and the others understood what was happening, the situation had already spiraled.
They chased rumors through steam-filled streets and muddy forest paths, dodging hostile stares and half-formed mobs. Darkness forced her way through anyone who got too close. Megumin scanned the air for mana traces that refused to appear. Kazuma cursed everything he could think of, knowing exactly how ugly faith-driven panic could get. Then the trail disappeared.
No footprints. No mana residue. No signs of combat. Just wet stone and broken brush leading nowhere.
Hours passed. People argued among themselves. Some insisted Ruko had escaped. Others claimed he had died—dragged into the waterfall, crushed by collapsing stone, or taken by demons as punishment. With no proof and no body, certainty dissolved into rumor. Slowly, the hunt lost its momentum. Fear cooled into unease. Unease into silence. Axis didn't forgive. But it stopped chasing.
Kazuma's group found Ruko near the edge of the forest, exactly where no one would think to look. He stepped out from behind a cluster of rocks calmly, cloak damp, expression composed in that infuriatingly neutral way of his. Aqua froze for half a second—then slammed into him, yelling and crying at the same time. Megumin let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Darkness relaxed just enough to confirm he wasn't bleeding out.
Kazuma stared at him like he wanted to punch him and hug him simultaneously. "You're alive, you fool," Kazuma said flatly. "For now, and I'm sorry," Ruko replied, tone even. There was no time for explanations. No time to argue about Axis or faith or blame. The situation was unstable, and any delay could restart the hunt all over again. They moved immediately, leaving without looking back, traveling through the night and into the following morning. No one followed.
In few days. By the time Axel's walls came into view, exhaustion had set in fully. Not just physical—but emotional. The kind that weighed down thoughts and slowed reactions. They didn't talk much. When they reached their house, they shut the door, dropped their gear, and collapsed wherever they stood. Even Aqua didn't complain. Even Megumin didn't talk about explosions. Sleep claimed them fast and hard.
Ruko lay awake a little longer than the rest, staring at the ceiling as the Sha-Obelisk fragment pulsed faintly beneath his awareness. Somewhere deep beyond perception, something laughed—but the meaning slipped away almost immediately, erased before it could settle. By morning, Axis would still wonder whether he was alive or dead. And for now… that uncertainty was exactly what kept him safe.