The gate of Sylva's Hollow tore open like a scar in the skin of the world.
Roots peeled back with a wet, splintering crack, exhaling the smell of damp soil and roasted barley.
Lanterns hung from braided vines, flames flickering, trembling as if the fire itself feared what lay beyond the light.
Hajime stepped through first. Moss swallowed his boots whole, the ground sucking at his heels like it remembered the weight of graves. A boy mid-swing with a stick sword froze, mouth agape, eyes reflecting the stranger's amber hair like trapped sunlight. An old man let his pipe slip; embers scattered like panicked fireflies, dying on the damp earth.
Rei followed. Uriel's Flame rode his back, edge catching the lantern light.
Izumi last. The lotus behind her ear was flourishing, petals falling like beautiful memories.
Mira saw Izumi first. "You shot up, girl," she rasped, fingers tracing Izumi's cheek like mapping a battlefield long lost.
Izumi's grin splintered at the edges. "Bread still black?"
"Only the tasty bits." Mira crushed her into a hug reeking of smoke and thyme, the scent of survival baked into every crease. "Come and eat, it is my treat."
The table was one heartwood slab, knife scars deep as old grudges, etched by generations who had laughed and bled here. Stew steamed thick: bruise-colored carrots, ghost-pale turnips, thyme, and bread crusts.
Hajime demolished his bowl as if it had insulted his mother. Rei ate measured, chopsticks precise as a surgeon's scalpel. Izumi was eating like she was a kid all over again.
Jiro hoisted a cup, voice gravel. "To Izumi, the kid who turned despair into prosperity."
Cups crashed like thunder in a bottle. The song of the Verdant Veil rose rough and low. Kenta, one arm swinging with pure fire, slid Hajime another bowl without a word. Hajime took it; his nod said it all.
Rei's chopsticks halted. Blue-white Seiki licked his fingers like frostfire. Hajime's gold-silver answered, crawling under his skin like live current, veins glowing faintly through flesh. Izumi rose slowly. The white lotus hit the table and powdered to nothing.
"They're here," Rei said.
Beyond the lantern glow, five figures stepped from nothing, shadows dissipating.
Iovah center. Bare feet planted like roots in defiance. Scars mapped his chest like a constellation of every time the world swung and missed, each line a testament to endurance no god had granted. Job's Will thumped slowly, heavy, an Endurance Aura that dragged the air down.
Megumi left. Hair hacked short, practical as a soldier's vow. Defiant Light twisted with moonlight between her fingers, illusions born from human will alone. She eyed Rei like a bomb with a loose pin, wariness etched in the set of her jaw.
Shinji cracked his neck. Crack, crack, crack—like vertebrae popping under pressure. Instinctive Surge buzzed under rune-scarred arms, the Willforging Rituals glowing dull red beneath skin. He flashed the stranger a wolf grin, teeth bared in feral invitation. "It's him. The one we've been looking for since he awakened."
Hikari drifted back. Eyes blown wide, pupils eating the irises like voids swallowing stars. A whisper left her lips when, suddenly, a nearby lantern shattered, glass raining like screams.
Takumi, at the rear, glanced at Rei and lingered with real caution. Then locked on the stranger.
Rei's smile cut glass, sharp enough to draw blood from the air. "Let's not do anything stupid."
Hajime stood. Gold-silver flared, light spilling from his skin like molten dawn. "Who the hell are you?"
Iovah dipped his chin, voice gravel over steel. "We're the Forsakers. A nomadic group that believes humans control their own destiny."
Megumi advanced one step. "We don't kneel to trees, angels, demons, or the bullshit they peddle."
Shinji rolled his shoulders, muscles coiling like springs. "Just do us a favor and hand the guy over. We don't want to hurt him. We need his help to stop the five factions."
Takumi flicked a thread — moonlight snapped like glass where it passed. "So, what's it going to be? We don't want anyone to get hurt. Just hand him over."
Rei's hand settled on his sword hilt. The sword purred hungry, blue-white Seiki humming low. "I don't give a shit about the five factions either, to be honest with you. Though I draw the line at kidnapping a friend, sorry."
Iovah's eyes flicked to Rei, real wariness flashing like a blade in the dark. "Stranger picks. Not the Will. Not the girl. Not the Order's collar."
Hajime spoke with an intense tone. "I'm nobody's chosen. I'm taking my own path."
Shinji's grin split wider, manic as a storm. "Perfect. I don't care if we have to take you bleeding out."
Izumi slid between, Seiki flaring green, roots twitching under moss like coiled adders ready to strike. "Want him? You'd better pray your resolve is up for the task."
Iovah raised a palm. The Forsakers froze, tension humming like a bowstring. "We aren't here to fight, but that being said, we can't afford to fail our mission."
Rei shrugged, casual as death. "Too bad for you."
Shinji, in anger, powered up first. Instinctive Surge roared, rune-scars blazing crimson like veins of lava.
Megumi's illusions shattered around the trio, eyes hollow as burned-out stars.
Hikari conjured a sonic knife, twisting in the wind.
Takumi's threads spread all over, glowing faint orange from his Seiki.
Iovah's Endurance Aura thickened, air turning to sludge, every inhale a fight.
Rei's sword cleared its sheath in a blur of blue-white fire, the blade singing a hymn of judgment. "Touch him and I burn your little rebellion to ash."
Izumi's roots erupted, forming a living wall of thorns between the Forsakers and the table, each spike dripping Eidarus venom. Her avatar began to rise, bark splitting with the sound of breaking bones, thorns lengthening like fingers grasping for throats. "Over my dead body."
Eisenwald flashed behind his eyes. A lens of smoke, screams, and a village lost.
Hajime stepped forward. Gold-silver light condensed into a single point at his chest, bright enough to burn retinas. Adam's voice layered over his, calm, ancient, stern. "I don't want to hurt you. Leave while you still can. This is silly, we're not your enemies."
Mira's voice cracked like a whip through the tension. "Kenta! Akari! Cellar! Now!"
Jiro snatched a blade from under the table, old iron nicked but hungry, the kind that had tasted blood in prior wars. "Everyone to the root tunnels! Move!"
Villagers scattered. Mothers dragged children, feet pounding grass like hearts in panic. Old men grabbed pitchforks, tools turned weapons in shaking hands. Kenta, one arm swinging, snatched a cleaver from the butcher's block and sprinted for the rear line, positioning himself between the fleeing and the edge of town.
The village root tunnels sealed with a thunderous boom as Mira triggered the emergency wards, the sound echoing like a final heartbeat.
The clearing became a maelstrom of light and defiance, the calm before the storm.
The Forsakers closed in.