As the morning mist lifted like a fading misunderstanding, the caravan members began burying their dead.
Boris stood beside Kalu, their shovels moving in silent harmony.
The morning sun softened the sky with a light apricot hue, illuminating white cloths draped over the bodies—revealing stiff hands and feet protruding from beneath the fabric.
Silence reigned.
No loud weeping—only whispered prayers, save for the occasional soft whimper from some of the children and women.
Kalu paused for a moment, his hands trembling slightly as they gripped the wooden handle.
He glanced at Boris. His blue eyes now carried a weight that made him seem several years older.
"I'm sorry for what happened earlier," he rasped in a hoarse whisper. "It was easier to blame someone… easier than facing the idea that death… could be so random and devastating."
Boris didn't lift his eyes from the grave he was digging.
The damp soil had reddened slightly with the blood it had absorbed.
"Death isn't random, Mr. Kalu," he said quietly. "It's natural—and easy—for a person to seek someone to blame."
Kalu drew a long breath, the smoke from his morning cigarette mingling with the vapor of his exhale.
"Do you forgive us… after all this?"
"There's nothing to forgive," Boris replied, finally raising his head.
His silver eyes caught the first ray of morning sun.
"Your reaction was natural. If I'd vanished in that moment of danger… I'd have doubted you too. That's more than natural."
Kalu looked at Boris for a moment, then toward the distant twins—Leo standing like a statue, and Lia seated on a wagon, inspecting her legs as she swung them back and forth with detached indifference.
"You've got amazing companions," Kalu said thoughtfully. "Are they Zamis?"
Boris offered a quiet smile. "I know they're the best companions… and perhaps even more than that."
Noticing Boris had sidestepped his question, Kalu decided not to press further.
They resumed digging, as did the others.
The shovels pierced the earth with soft, rhythmic sounds.
Nearby, several children—including Mina and Saty—were crying and sobbing, clinging to the adults in their families.
Boris cast a quick glance toward them.
His grip on the shovel tightened, but he uttered not a word.
He didn't feel he deserved to speak.
***
Two hours later, eleven small mounds of earth stood in solemn silence.
As Kalu brushed dirt from his hands, Tamer approached—his face mirroring the exhaustion everyone felt but refused to show.
"I know this isn't the right time," Tamer said, "but we have a problem that needs solving." He nodded toward the scattered Kora Stones.
They still glowed faintly—a sign they remained active.
"I know," Kalu replied, rubbing his tired temples. "I don't know what to do. Do you have a suggestion?"
"A decoy wagon," Tamer said, his tone as cold and precise as a tactical expert's.
He continued, "We load it with all the stones and take the three prisoners with us. It moves ahead of the main caravan and draws any potential threat away."
Jon, who had been listening from a distance, stepped closer with a growl: "Ha! But that doesn't eliminate the danger—it just moves it somewhere else!"
"Exactly," Tamer replied calmly, his steadiness clearly irritating Jon. "The stones will keep the danger at bay—that's what we want. This way, we control where and when any confrontation might happen."
Jon fell silent, though his single eye remained fixed in worry.
Anton—who had stood motionless until now—spoke in a rough voice: "I'll drive the wagon."
Everyone turned to him. He stood at the edge of the group's circle, his body slightly hunched.
"You're not—" Kalu began.
"I know the way," Anton cut in. "I grew up in Rose Village—the next stop."
There was confidence in his voice, despite the exhaustion etched into his face.
"Alright then," Kalu sighed. "I'll go, and you… and…" He looked around. "Boris—would you like to join us? Will you come with us?"
"No problem," Boris agreed smoothly. "And Leo and Lia can stay behind to protect the caravan."
The twins watched from afar. Lia gave a single nod—approval. Leo didn't move, but he didn't object either.
"Alright," Kalu said, clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention. "If we've agreed on this, we now need to reassign duties. The caravan won't move without reorganization."
Everyone nodded in agreement—but Boris spoke up for a moment.
"Mr. Kalu, the bandits' camp contains loot that might be valuable to you. I suggest sending a team with me to retrieve it." He pointed toward the forest.
"Yes, we'll do that too," Kalu replied, waiting for everyone to hear their next assignments.
***
In the quietest corner of the camp, where the wind moved in harmony, Hao's family sat together.
Lian—the mother—held the sleeping Mina, the little girl who suddenly seemed even younger curled up in grief.
Takashi sat beside her, his back bent under a weight he hadn't been ready to carry.
Anton stood five feet away—a respectful distance, and a distance of guilt.
Quietly, he knelt on his knees onto the ground… like a man confessing his sin.
His figure appeared directly in Lian's downcast eyes.
He raised his head; his sunken eyes met hers.
He tried to speak—tried to form words—but nothing came out.
Lian slowly shook her head. Though her eyes met his, she didn't seem to have truly left her emptiness.
"When the war destroyed my village, he was all I had left. He was my only refuge…" Her words carried no accusation, no forgiveness—just a flat tone, as if reporting facts.
"I don't know what to do now. I don't know what to do…" Her words were merely a translation of the loss within her.
Anton didn't lower his head. He kept staring directly into her eyes.
"I should've protected him. I was right beside him. I left him to the Bloody Wolves while I fought others—even though I knew how little combat experience he had. It's my fault—no doubt about it."
Takashi looked at him with tired eyes: "Father… was proud of you. He always said you were an amazing person… so why—?"
Those words pierced Anton's heart deeply.
His whole body trembled, and he whispered with difficulty: "I don't deserve his pride. Nor your forgiveness."
In a broken voice, Lian spoke to the void: "I have nowhere to go. I don't even know how I'll feed my children. I can't trade—I'm uneducated, and I have no skills for any work…"
Her words shattered something else inside Anton—but…
He fixed his eyes firmly on hers with determination. That was exactly why he was here now.
"Let me take care of you!" he declared, his voice much louder than usual.
Lian looked at him with sorrowful eyes—eyes that accused, despite her understanding of its futility.
Still, she couldn't stop a shard of blame from slipping into her heart.
"You can't bring Hao back. You can't fix my heart. I…" she said quietly and sadly.
"I know," Anton said firmly. "But I can ensure you live with dignity. You're heading to Entdeckt, aren't you…?"
"I'll get you there!" he declared plainly, without further preamble. "I'll find you a place. I'll make sure the children get an education."
Lian slowly lifted her head. Her slightly protruding, yellow, sorrowful eyes remained fixed on him.
Not a look of accusation, nor forgiveness—but the gaze of someone who had lost their compass.
"Why?" she asked—one word.
Anton wanted to answer—
*Because he was my friend*, he could have said.
*Because I'm guilty*, he could have shouted.
*Because I was the one who taught him the Koshin arts*, he could have pleaded for mercy.
But he said: "Because it's the right thing to do."
Takashi kept staring at him, his hands tightly clasped in his lap.
"Are you doing this as Father's friend, because he saw you as—"
"He was wrong. I'm not the person he thought I was," Anton said—and for the first time, something resembling a smile appeared—a faint tremor only at the corner of his mouth, filled with self-loathing.
"But I know one path—not for redemption, nor to make it up to you, but simply because of my own selfish desire."
Mina stirred in her sleep and whispered: "Papa…"
Silence fell. Even the birds stopped chirping for a moment.
"This… I swear it," Anton said as he rose to leave.
"I swear before the Creator of all things, the God of the entire universe—I will do this with my life."
He didn't wait for a reply.
His heart couldn't bear to hear one.
***
In another corner, Ethan was surrounded by a circle of curious eyes.
Some of the caravan children—who hadn't lost any relatives—were cautiously touching him, as if he were a strange artifact.
One of them whispered: "Is he real?"
Ethan only understood their stares—children's astonishment mixed with fear.
"I… I'm Ethan," he tried in English, and their eyes widened even more.
*Stop staring at me like that—I'm not a monkey in a zoo! Boris, why did you leave me here…?* Ethan felt a tear welling up in his eyes.
Suddenly, Lia appeared among them. She looked at him with her cool silver eyes—eyes that revealed nothing and hid nothing.
"Boris asked me to help you," she said in clear English.
Ethan was stunned. "You… one of Boris's partners? You speak English too?!"
She didn't answer. She simply raised her small hand, and her fingers danced gracefully in the air like a pianist's.
Nothing visible appeared—just finger gestures that neither the children nor Ethan understood.
For a moment, Ethan felt dizzy… then…
"…and my mom said MISFITs might come from the sky!" A boy's voice suddenly became clear.
Ethan covered his ears with his hands. "What…?"
"Linguistic encryption. I'm sharing my knowledge with you," Lia whispered coolly. "Temporary. You'll need to properly learn the language later."
She moved closer to Leo, who sat on a nearby crate, his eyes calmly observing.
"Why waste your time?"
"Because Dad specifically asked me to," she whispered back, then turned to the children.
"He's a lost human—that's what Dad said…"
Leo added nothing, only watching the children and Ethan.
A little girl touching his red shirt asked: "Strange clothes…"
"Well, in my world, this is normal clothing," he explained.
A dirt-covered boy asked: "Where's Sonia Sis? She usually plays with us."
"She went with Mrs. Imenata," Leo answered from his spot. "She's learning how to distinguish medicinal herbs from poisonous ones."
Ethan finally turned to Lia and thanked her: "Thank you… I… feel better."
The children looked at him, then at Lia. A brave girl asked: "Can we teach him our games?"
*Why does it feel like she's asking for my mom's permission?* Ethan thought with slight annoyance.
Lia nodded with her usual faint expression. "Certainly."
A circle opened around Ethan.
The children gathered smooth stones and began explaining a simple game.
Ethan watched attentively and smiled when he grasped the rules.
Leo observed the scene, then whispered to his sister: "I think he'll adapt quickly."
"Temporarily. He needs to learn the language first," Lia replied—but her eyes never left Ethan as he struggled to understand the game rules.
***
Under the shade of the trees, where golden sunbeams fractured through the leaves, Imenata was teaching Sonia the art of survival.
"This herb…" She plucked a serrated leaf. "Reduces fever. And this…"—a leaf soft as silk—"eases pain."
Sonia followed closely, her ears attentive to every new plant.
She learned with the seriousness of a child who'd realized the world could be cruel—and that knowledge might save a life.
A few meters away, a group of men appeared, carrying bundles of goods—Boris among them.
"Boris, I'll tell Mr. Kalu what you told us—about the gang leader and the Requests Guild," one man said as another took the chest from Boris's hands.
The other man pointed at him: "Rest. We'll handle the rest."
The men left, leaving Boris standing alone. He noticed Sonia and Imenata nearby.
He leaned against a tree, arms crossed, his eyes scanning the camp out of habit.
Other women had gathered in a circle, whispering among themselves.
For the first time since the attack, their talk wasn't about fear—but about cooking recipes.
How to cook this type of mushroom. How to preserve those berries.
A small return to routine. A small step—but one that made a difference in the camp's atmosphere.
Imenata approached Boris, a basket full of herbs on her arm.
"You're carrying a lot on your shoulders. Even standing still, you look tense."
He didn't deny it. He simply remained silent.
"The Koshin barrier…" She paused, searching for the right words. "Thank you so much for that. You really protected us."
He looked at her—his silver eyes reflecting the green around them. "But many men died…"
She gently patted his shoulder with motherly warmth. "Enough. You saved everyone behind the barrier. You didn't have full control over the situation. You're a wonderful boy."
He looked at her for a moment—his eyes widening slightly before returning to normal.
He finally smiled—a small, quiet smile, but it was there.
"Mrs. Imenata, I think you're saving us all now too."
She laughed—a warm sound that cut through the morning chill.
"With good food! Come on—I'll cook you something so delicious you'll forget your own name!"
***
Zofia sat atop the wagon, her eyes closed as she traced the threads in the fabric.
Boris was still clear—his silver eyes still bright, and the density of threads around him still higher than normal.
*I thought it would lessen after he stopped using his energy…*
Zofia's web grew denser whenever someone used any form of energy—as if the threads themselves represented the energy expended… but…
Boris's threads hadn't faded much, even while at rest. This puzzled Zofia.
Around her, the camp buzzed with activity—a sharp contrast to the silent battle raging inside her skull, behind her closed eyes.
A voice whispered to her: *One look. One touch. Get closer!*
Zofia's nails dug into her palms, crescent-shaped marks carving into her flesh, as a black image appeared before her—horned, with faint silver threads weaving around it.
Anton had approached Boris.
Elsewhere, the twins—Leo and Lia—sat on a wagon, their shadows glowing in Zofia's vision.
Unlike Boris, whose body was as dark as any ordinary person's, Leo's and Lia's bodies were entirely woven from silver threads.
Their eyes, though very similar to Boris's, glowed faintly—softer and less sharp than his.
Zofia tilted her head, thinking. *Why are they made of threads? Are they even human at all? And also…*
The thought slipped into her mind before she could banish it—as it had the first time she saw them.
Leo showed no reaction; his threads remained steady, his gaze fixed on Ethan's clumsy attempts to play with the children.
But Lia suddenly turned and locked her silver eyes onto Zofia's closed ones—as if sensing the observation.
Zofia was terrified. In that instant, the voice behind her eyes whispered again—
but this time in an extremely faint murmur she could barely hear, and couldn't understand a word of: *##+$&#+#*
For one moment, the world narrowed.
Zofia felt something stir inside her—as if a door had opened slightly… then slammed shut suddenly.
Then Anton's voice cut through the moment—rough from exhaustion: "Boris, will you help us prepare the decoy wagon?"
Zofia gasped, then exhaled. *What was that…?*
She looked toward Boris. She knew the whisper was somehow connected to him—but it was too blurred to interpret.
Boris was kneeling beside Anton, inspecting the decoy wagon.
His body was relaxed, his movements calm—exactly as they'd been the first time she saw him.
Then Zofia froze for a second—
*The pendant reacted… for the second time… Boris is alone… lost… why?* she thought, clutching a hidden pendant in her clothes.
A sharp sound rang out as Boris tightened a loose strap on the wagon.
Anton bent down, helping secure the Kora Stones in their places inside the wagon.
Zofia's fingers trembled against her chest, and the threads around Boris pulsed like slow, deep breaths.
She shifted her focus to Ethan.
In her vision, his body was completely ordinary…
A black shadow wrapped in faint silver threads—no high density, just an empty form mimicking human movement… like any normal person.
*He's just here… but…*
Despite everything, Zofia noticed a slight oddity about him.
The surrounding web trembled more than usual whenever Ethan moved.
*Are all MISFITs like this…?* she wondered, feeling curious…