The enormous oak doors of the Crimson Lapis Castle's war room shut with a heavy thud, sealing out the commotion of the rebuilt city.
A massive, hand-drawn map of the imperial capital, Lupagana, was pinned to the center of a thick cedar table.
"We do not have the luxury of time," Abel began, his voice flat and commanding as he stood at the head of the table. "Natsuki Subaru and his gladiator rabble will soon be marching. By my own estimates, they will reach the capital's perimeter within days. If we do not coordinate our assault to strike synchronously, the capital's garrison will simply pivot and crush his force before we can cross the outer walls."
"So we're bustin' in," Garfiel muttered, resting his clawed hands on the edge of the table, his eyes burning. "Fine by me. My shield-fists are ready to smash whatever gates they've got."
"Do not let your muscle-headed enthusiasm blind you, beast," Abel replied coldly, not even glancing up. "Lupagana is a fortress designed to withstand sieges from entire nations. You cannot simply throw yourself at the walls and expect them to crumble."
"He's right, Garf," Otto murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. He peered over the map, his eyes tracing the red ink. "Even with our combined strength, entering an active warzone is highly volatile. If we get separated or cornered in those narrow streets, our numbers won't mean a thing. We need to know what we're facing."
Emilia stepped up beside Otto, her expression serious. "We'll do whatever it takes to help. Tell us what we need to do, Abel-san."
"First, I must evaluate your capabilities," Abel said, his masked head tilting slightly toward her. "I do not waste soldiers on roles they are unfit for. State your hand."
"I am a Spirit Arts user," Emilia declared, her voice steady. "I can shape ice to create shields, weapons, or even freeze entire paths to stop enemy movements. And I have minor spirits who can help me sense danger."
"A high-spec elementalist, a rarity in Vollachia," Abel noted, his fingers tapping the table. "Useful for crowd control and securing choke points."
"As for mineself, I am a master of Yin magic. I can manipulate gravity to make our allies weightless or throw crystalline stakes that freeze time and space, I suppose. If anyone tries to drop heavy gates on us, Betty will simply make them float."
Al let out a low whistle from behind his steel helmet. "Gravity manipulation and space-time magic? Boss, you just hit the jackpot. That's cheat-tier utility."
"Don't lump us in with your strange terms, helmet man!" Beatrice snapped.
"Yeah, yeah, my bad, Beako~," Al chuckled.
Her brows furrowed slightly. "Only Betty's contracter can call her that, I suppose."
Al shrugged. "Right, right. As for me, I'm just a guy with one arm and a cheap sword. I'm good for dirty work. Distractions, holding narrow hallways, or being a meat shield while the heavy hitters do their thing."
"I can fight too!" Medium chimed in, her voice fierce as she clutched the hilts of her twin swords. "I'm fast, and I won't let anyone get between me and my brother! If those imperial soldiers try to stop us, I'll carve right through them!"
"My, what a bloodthirsty little kitten," Yorna smiled. "Though I suppose that fire is exactly what we need to melt the capital's resolve."
"And what of you, merchant?" Abel's masked gaze locked onto Otto. "You do not look like a warrior."
"I'm not," Otto said bluntly. "But I have the Divine Protection of Soul Language. I can speak with animals, insects, and even the wind. If there are scouts, messengers, or wild beasts being used by the capital's defense, I will know about them before they even spot us. I'll handle our communications and vanguard coordination."
Abel hesitated, his gaze narrowing slightly beneath his mask. An information-gathering asset. Invaluable for avoiding traps and comprehending the unknown.
"A sufficient hand," Abel conceded. He then shifted his masked face toward the blue-haired maid standing quietly beside Emilia. "And you? You have remained silent."
Rem accepted the masked man's eyes without flinching. Her expression was calm, but her light blue eyes conveyed an intense, burning resolve.
"I am Rem," she said, her voice steady and clear. "I fight with a heavy morningstar, and I am highly proficient in water magic. I can heal our forces' injuries on the front lines. And..." Rem paused, her hand drifting slightly to her chest. "If the situation demands it, I am of the Oni clan. I can manifest my horn to draw in the surrounding mana and multiply my physical strength. I will be your vanguard."
"An Oni..." Abel murmured, his voice carrying a rare trace of genuine respect. "A clan known for peerless, savage combat capability. Very well. Your inclusion is highly satisfactory. Natsuki Subaru was indeed a valuable piece on my board, but sending him to Ginunhive was a calculated risk. If he could not survive and deliver the gladiators to me, then he was of no use."
"A piece?"
The words were quiet, yet they pierced through the room like a sudden draft of icy air.
Rem stepped forward, her hands tightening at her sides.
"He is not a piece," Rem remarked, her tone lowering. "He is not a toy for your amusement, nor is he a tool to be spent for your throne."
Abel gently rotated his masked head to face her.
His posture remained fully rigid, unbothered by the abrupt rise in animosity.
"In Vollachia, everyone is a tool," Abel replied bluntly, his filtered voice entirely devoid of empathy. "The Emperor himself, the generals, the peasants, and the foreign interlopers too. If a piece cannot perform its function, it is swept from the board. Natsuki Subaru understood this when he agreed to my terms. He knew the price of his survival."
"He agreed because he is kind!" Rem shot back, her light blue eyes sparking with a rare, furious rage. "He agreed because he cannot stand to see people suffer, even strangers in a foreign land! You took advantage of his selflessness, threw him into a pit of monsters, and now you dare speak of him as if he were nothing more than a disposable pawn?!"
"At the current moment, I do not doubt his victory; that is why I sent him, of all people, to the gladiator island," Abel answered coldly. "I believe he will prove victorious, break the prison, and secure the reinforcements. In a war worth thousands, his worth to this revolution is measured solely by those results, not by your sentimentality."
"His worth cannot be measured by a heartless calculator like you!" Rem's voice soared. "He is my hero. He has saved countless lives, and it wasn't because of some grand calculation but because he believes in saving people! He is worth more than your entire empire!"
Garfiel came up alongside Rem, his fangs bared, his golden eyes fixated upon the masked guy. "You tell 'em. If this mask face says one more word about the Cap'n like he's trash, I'm smashin' through this table."
"Enough," Emilia intervened, standing between them. She placed a kind but surprisingly firm touch on Rem's shoulder. "Rem, Garfiel, please. Let's not fight among ourselves."
Rem gazed at Abel for a second longer, her chest heaving with wordless rage, before she slowly took a step back, her posture returning to a stiff, guarded stance.
Abel did not give an apology. He just gestured to the map.
"If you find my methods distasteful, half-demon, you are welcome to leave," Abel remarked. "But you will not reach him without my army. The defense of the capital relies entirely on the Five Bastions. They are massive, heavily fortified watchtowers that secure the city's perimeter. We must dismantle them to breach the inner sanctum."
The group grudgingly leaned in closer, while the air in the room remained charged with Rem's residual wrath.
"The First Bastion lies to the South," Abel explained. "It is the main access point via a massive stone bridge leading directly to the city center. It will be heavily guarded by the regular garrison, but the terrain is predictable."
"And the Second Bastion in the Southeast?" Otto asked, pointing to the relevant tower on the map. "Who is defending that one?"
"I have no information on the commander stationed there," Abel answered frankly.
Otto blinked. "Wait. What?"
"The military intelligence from the capital has been heavily guarded since the false Emperor took the throne," Abel replied, entirely unbothered. "We must assume it is staffed by high-ranking officers, but their identities remain a variable."
"You're asking us to siege a fortress when you don't even know who is guarding the gates?!" Otto hissed, his voice rising in stressed panic. "That's not a plan, that's a gamble!"
"This entire revolution is a gamble, merchant. But it is a non-problem now, thanks to the sudden appearance of a reconnaissance expert," Abel retorted coldly. "Now be silent and listen. The Third Bastion sits in the southwest. Unlike the second, we know exactly who holds it. It is defended by Divine General Moguro Hagane."
"Moguro..." Medium muttered, her brow furrowing. "The giant steel monster?"
"Yes. A fortress in his own right," Abel said. "His physical defense is absolute. To breach the Southwest, we will need overwhelming, concentrated force."
"Leave that one to me!" Garfiel grinned, baring his sharp fangs as he cracked his knuckles. "A giant steel guy sounds like the perfect thing to break my fists on! I'll turn him into scrap metal!"
"Do not underestimate a divine general, lest you desire an untimely death," Abel warned. "Now, as for the remaining two... the Fourth Bastion in the Northeast and the Fifth Bastion over in the Northwest."
Abel paused, his hand retreating from the map.
"Like the second, my scouts have been unable to penetrate their communications. I have no information on who is defending either tower."
An awkward, heavy silence descended upon the war room.
"Let Betty get this straight, in fact," Beatrice said, her voice dripping with dry, utter disbelief. "Out of five giant towers guarding the capital... you only know who is standing in one of them, I suppose?"
"Two," Al corrected weakly from the back. "He knows the bridge on the first one is just regular soldiers."
"That is still three complete blind spots!" Petra cried, her eyes wide with worry. "What if there are more Divine Generals hiding in those towers? What if they have traps waiting for us?"
"Then we will adapt when we face them," Abel stated, his voice completely unyielding as he crossed his arms. "The variables do not change our objective. Natsuki Subaru will soon be marching. We must strike. We will divide our forces to pressure the bastions simultaneously, force their defenses to stretch thin, and breach the center."
"If Subaru is there," Rem said softly, her quiet voice carrying an absolute, unshakeable confidence that drew everyone's eyes to her. "Then those blind spots won't remain blind spots for long. He is already working to tear down their defenses from the inside. We just have to meet him there."
Emilia looked at the map, then at Rem, her purple eyes reflecting the harsh candlelight.
She could feel the lingering mix of emotions in the room, but beneath it, she felt the burning, desperate hope of everyone present.
They had to reach Lupagana.
"It's okay," Emilia said, offering her friends a small, determined smile. "We've faced worse than this before. No matter who is standing in those towers... we'll break through together."
"An optimistic outlook," Abel said, his voice flat as he looked down at the map. "But do not assume the defenders of these bastions are your only concern. Based on the reports from my spies, there is another variable you will likely encounter at the capital."
Abel's hand drifted over the center of the map, his gloved finger tapping right on the imperial palace.
"The white-haired fool will be there as well."
The room seemed to pause. For a fraction of a second, the suffocating tension in the war room shattered, replaced by a sudden, electric wave of hope.
"Gojo-san?!" Emilia gasped, her purple eyes lighting up. "He's... he'll be at the capital? With Subaru?!"
"We'll find them both at the same time!" Petra cried, her hands flying to her cheeks, a bright smile instantly breaking across her face. "Subaru-sama and Gojo-sama... they'll be in the same place!"
Even Beatrice's sour expression softened, her small shoulders relaxing by a fraction of an inch. "A convenient turn of events, I suppose. It saves us the trouble of hunting him down across this ridiculous country, in fact."
"Heh, the blindfold bastard is probably lookin' out for the Cap'n right now," Garfiel grinned, crossing his arms with a confident huff. "With the two of 'em together, there ain't a damn thing those Empire soldiers can do to 'em!"
Only Al remained silent, his helmet tilting slightly downward as a cold sweat broke out across his neck.
He looked at Abel, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He didn't have to wait long.
"Do not celebrate," Abel commanded, his deep, filtered voice cutting through their excitement like a blade of ice. "Satoru Gojo is not your ally. In the coming battle, he is to be treated as the single greatest threat to our victory. An obstacle far more dangerous than Moguro Hagane, or even the entirety of the Imperial garrison combined."
The smiles faded from their faces as quickly as they had appeared.
"What... what do you mean by that, Abel-san?" Emilia asked, her voice faltering as she looked at the masked man. "Gojo-san is our friend. He wouldn't... he wouldn't fight us."
"He would. And he already has," Abel stated coldly. "You speak of him as a hero, but you are blinded by your past. The man currently in the capital is not the 'Gojo' you know. He is unstable. He has no memories of his past, no loyalties to your Kingdom, and no restraint."
"We know he has amnesia, in fact!" Beatrice snapped, her small hands clenching into fists. "But that doesn't mean he would turn against us!"
"He already did, in Guaral," Abel countered, his gaze shifting to Beatrice. "He dismantled our forces with terrifying, casual ease. He rejected Natsuki Subaru's pleas, pushed him away, and aligned himself with the Imperial forces. Currently, he is acting under the jurisdiction of the false Emperor. To him, we are the invaders. And he will not hesitate to erase us."
"No..." Petra whispered, her face going pale. "That's... that can't be true. Gojo-sama... he saved me. He wouldn't do that..."
"The boss-man is telling the truth, kid," Al chimed in from the back, his voice incredibly weary. "I was there. The guy was completely out of his mind and even made me eat the concrete at one point. He didn't recognize any of us, and he didn't care to, either. He's a walking natural disaster. Without his memories to anchor him, he's just... power. Pure, untouchable power without a leash."
"But why?" Emilia demanded, her voice cracking with a mixture of hurt and desperation. "Why would he side with the people who are trying to destroy this country?"
"Because they found him first," Abel replied flatly. "Or perhaps they simply gave him a purpose that that fractured mind of his could cling to. It does not matter why he is fighting for them. The only reality that concerns us is that he stands between us and the throne."
A heavy, suffocating panic descended upon the room.
They knew Gojo's power. They had seen him warp space, halt attacks with an invisible barrier, and move at speeds that bypassed the physical limits of the world. He was one of the closest to the pinnacle of strength.
The idea of having to fight him—especially when they couldn't even physically touch him—was an absolute nightmare.
"That strange... magic of his," Otto muttered, his hand shaking as he gripped his hair. "If he uses his barrier... how are we even supposed to fight him? We can't touch him! We can't even get close!"
"And his raw strength is no joke, either," Garfiel growled, his golden eyes wide with a rare, sweating anxiety. "I've seen what he does when he gets serious. If he decides to swing at us... there won't be enough of us left to bury."
Rem remained silent, her light blue eyes locked on the map. Her hand drifted to her side, where her morningstar hung. She had seen Gojo's strength back during the Witch Cult's attack. She knew that even with her Oni horn manifested, she would be nothing more than a minor annoyance to him.
"Is there really no way to make him remember?" Rem asked softly, her voice drawing everyone's attention. She looked up at Abel. "If we can reach him... if we can talk to him..."
"Do not waste your breath on sentimentality," Abel said, his masked head turning away. "A warrior who hesitates on the battlefield because of a past they cannot reach is already dead. If you stand before Satoru Gojo in the capital, you must fight to kill. Otherwise, you will simply become casualties of his power."
Emilia stood in the quiet of the war room, her chest heaving as she stared at the map. The joy of knowing they would find both Subaru and Gojo was gone, replaced by a cold, terrifying reality.
They were going to have to fight their friend. Their hero.
But as she looked at Petra's pained eyes and Beatrice's anxious frown, Emilia tightened her fists.
She took a deep, steadying breath, her purple eyes hardening with an absolute, unyielding resolve.
"No," Emilia said, her voice quiet but carrying a weight that made the entire room look at her. "We're not going to try to kill him. And we're not going to let him kill us either."
She looked at Abel, her gaze sharp.
"We'll find a way to reach him. We'll bring him back, and we'll bring Subaru back, too. No matter how strong he is... we're not giving up on him."
Abel did not argue. He merely gave a single, dismissive grunt from behind his mask.
"Have your sentimentality," Abel answered, his voice chilly. "But do not let it get in the way of my vanguard. Tanza, prepare the scouts."
"Yes, Abel-sama." The small deer-girl replied, bowing her head and gently sliding out of the room.
As the meeting began to disperse and the others headed toward the doorway to collect their gear, Beatrice stayed standing near the map table. Her small hand was firmly clenched in Emilia's, but her attention had slipped away from the strategy board.
Her butterfly-patterned eyes were fixated on the back of the room.
There, still lounging lazily against the wooden crate, was Meili.
The purple-haired girl was humming a low, uncanny tune to herself, swaying her legs back and forth. To everyone else, she was just a bizarre child of the Empire.
But Beatrice was a great spirit. She did not see people by their faces; she saw them by their mana, their souls, and the faint, lingering traces of the energies they interacted with.
And the trace clinging to her made Betty's skin crawl.
"Emilia, wait a moment, in fact." Beatrice whispered, gently releasing her hold on the half-elf's hand.
"Beatrice? What's wrong?" Emilia asked, pausing near the doorway.
"Betty just needs to clarify a minor detail, I suppose. Go on ahead."
With a small nod, Emilia stepped out to help Otto and Garfiel, leaving Beatrice alone in the quiet corner of the room with the braided girl.
Beatrice walked over, her small shoes clicking softly against the stone floor. She stopped a few paces away from Meili, her expression guarded, her arms crossed over her frilly chest.
Meili's humming stopped. She tilted her head, her dark eyes locking onto Beatrice with a vacant, pleasant smile.
"My, my... is the little spirit-chan lost?" Meili tilted her head. "Or did you want to play a game with me, I wonder~?"
"Do not play the fool with Betty, girl," Beatrice said, her voice dropping into a low, icy register. "You may hide behind a child's face, but the scent clinging to your soul is utterly putrid, in fact."
Meili's smile didn't falter, but her eyelids flickered. "Putrid? That's not very polite. I washed my hair just this morning."
"It is not dirt, and you know it, I suppose," Beatrice hissed, her butterfly eyes narrowing. "It is the foul, rotting wavelength of Witchbeasts. And not just one or two... but hundreds. They have nested in your mana. But more than that... there is a coldness in you. The kind of heavy, dark weight that only belongs to those who have snuffed out countless lives without a single drop of regret, in fact. Who are you?"
Meili stared at her. For a fraction of a second, the vacuous, infantile fun evaporated from her features. Her dark eyes grew entirely flat, icy, and razor-sharp——the look of a predator that had spent its entire life in the dark, waiting for the right moment to throat-cut its prey.
But just as suddenly as it had emerged, the shadow faded, replaced by her typical, sing-song cheerfulness.
"My, what a scary little doll~" Meili laughed, twisting a braid around her finger. "A 'heavy weight'? I don't know what you mean. I'm just Meili. I look after the big, scary beasts so they don't eat the townspeople. They're my friends. And friends don't mind a little bit of smell, do they, I wonder~?"
Beatrice did not believe a word of it. The girl was a lethal variable, a hidden blade wrapped in colorful yarn.
"Listen to me, child," Beatrice warned. "Betty does not care what games you play in this Empire, nor does she care who you have slaughtered in the dark, I suppose. But my contractor—Natsuki Subaru—is currently marching toward a warzone. If you try to use your 'friends' to interfere with him or try to hurt him..."
Beatrice leaned in, her eyes flashing with a dangerous, purple light.
"I will personally tear your soul from your body and scatter it into the void, in fact. Do not test me."
Meili let out a small, theatrical shudder, yet her vacuous smile stayed securely in place.
"Oh, my... so scary. I suppose you'll be delighted to know that I'm basically worthless here~ I don't feel a single Witchbeast anywhere near me~"
"Is that right, I suppose?"
With a final, menacing scowl, Beatrice turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her ruffled dress rustling as she hurried to catch up with Emilia.
Meili watched the Great Spirit leave, her finger gently untwisting from her hair. She stared at the empty doorway for a long minute, her hum starting up again, slightly slower and quieter than before.
"A Great Spirit, and an Oni, and that half-elf girl too... the world is so small, after all..." Meili mumbled to the empty room, her eyes entirely dark. "What a very, very dangerous stage Subaru-chan has built for himself, I wonder~ I guess I can only hope they don't get on Gojo-san's nerves~ for the sake of everyone, that is~"
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Kafma Irulux stood on the highest parapet of the outer wall, looking down on the imperial capital of Lupagana.
The city was a sprawling stone beast, with golden roofs that glittered beneath the harsh Vollachian sun. It was the heart of the empire, guarded by concentric rings of wall and the blood of generations of warriors.
But up there, above it all, Kafma felt no heat.
The dry, high-altitude wind ruffled against his dark cloak, carrying the faint, metallic tang of the readying ironworks of the capital.
He had just come out of the Prime Minister's chambers.
Berstetz Fondalfon was a man of dry-paper intelligence. He didn't talk about courage or honor. He talked about structural integrity. And now the Prime Minister was concerned about a structural anomaly.
Satoru Gojo.
The white-haired foreigner with the blindfold was now stationed, supposedly on the side of the throne, inside the capital. But to Berstetz, an entity that couldn't be measured, controlled, or threatened was no ally. He was a ceiling on the cusp of collapse.
"If the sky falls, General Irulux, it must be your wings that catch it. The anomaly relies on space itself. But not even space is a void with no weakness."
Kafma had merely bowed his head. He did not need the details spelled out. He knew his role.
He lifted his hand to touch his own temple.
Kafma Irulux was not a man.
He was a dissenter. He was a burden. It made itself a monster of monsters.
As a member of the Insect Cage Tribe, a group of people that the rest of Vollachia considered heretics, he underwent horrific, agonizing biological alterations to his body.
It was a mutualistic relationship between man and insect.
Kafma has thirty-two insects writhing around in his body, unlike the rest of his tribe ever born before him. This is an unheard-of number for the Insect Cage tribe, for the chief himself has only eight insects at one time.
So he turned into a monster of his people, who the rest of the Empire consider monsters in and of themselves.
But the Prime Minister's warnings implied that the monsters coming to Lupagana would make his own self-made monstrosity seem like child's play.
The first was Satoru Gojo——a boy who could pass through the world without touching its laws, a god who has no true reason to be standing for Vollachia but still holds terrifying, absolute power. Facing him would be Kafma taking his modified biology to the ultimate, mortal extreme.
And then… there was the other one.
Kafma stared southward toward the mountains where they joined the dusty plains.
The rumors had come to the capital. A boy with black hair and dark eyes. A boy whom rumors claim to be the Emperor's illegitimate son, who had come out of nowhere and immediately shattered the status quo of the Empire.
Guaral ensures surrender with minimal bloodshed, something he'd thought impossible in such a scenario.
The quiet, sudden fall of Gladiator Island.
"Since he made himself known, he has not registered a single failure."
Berstetz had noted, his old voice carrying a rare, chilling trace of dread.
"He does not fight like a warrior. He fights like a draft of wind——unseen, yet completely shifting the terrain. We must assume he is aiming for the capital."
They did not know how the boy was coming. They did not know he was currently leading an army of freed gladiators. But Kafma could feel it in his antennae, a high-frequency buzzing in the back of his mind.
The pieces were moving. The stage was set.
Kafma closed his eyes and let out a short breath before suddenly tightening his fists.
Let them come.
Let the fallen prince, the rebel army, and the blindfolded monster throw themselves at the city.
Kafma Irulux would stand as the absolute wall of Lupagana.
He would be the monster the Empire needed him to be until his shell cracked and his heart finally stopped beating.
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Meili slid from the wooden crate, her boots hitting the dusty flooring with a quiet touch.
The oppressive silence of the deserted battle room swept over her.
The door had closed, leaving her utterly alone in the dim, red-lit corner of the castle.
She stepped over to the smashed window, peering out onto the bustling streets of Chaosflame below.
It was still messy. There were still damaged roofs and mounds of rubble. But it was alive.
Since the dreadful day Capella had attacked—since Mama had tried to bring her back into that dark, suffocating cage of fear—Meili's world had entirely transformed.
She had been so terrified of Mama's rage. She had assumed she was destined to be a tool forever.
But then, Yorna had held her.
Yorna had put her warm, sweet-scented arms around Meili and told her she was secure. It wasn't the twisted, conditional love Mama delivered. It was real. For the first time in her short, violent life, Meili had chosen to love someone more than she feared being punished.
Because of that warmth, the frigid threads of her history were slowly loosening.
She thought about Elsa. Her big sister. The Bowel Hunter was gone, killed in the Kingdom by the very same white-haired guy who had lately traveled through these red alleys.
Normally, an assassin was expected to seek revenge. And she did follow through with that, of course, in unspectacular fashion.
Either way, she should have loathed him. But when Meili truly saw Satoru Gojo in Chaosflame and how he'd saved her life, she couldn't find any further malice in her heart.
Only a strange, deep pity.
He was meant to be... one of those immensely terrifying people. A creature who could rend the skies with his power. But when he strolled across the city, his face uncovered, his dazzling blue eyes had seemed so utterly... lifeless.
He wasn't a child, not really. Yet, he had appeared so aimless. He had appeared like a lost, lonely ghost, traveling through somewhere he didn't belong, desperately searching for a reflection he couldn't locate.
He was sad. He felt really, profoundly sad.
He had fled away to the capital because the blankness of his own thinking worried him. He had wrapped himself in the fake identity the Empire handed him merely to have a script to follow. He was deliberately attempting to hide from the ghosts of his past.
And now, those exact same ghosts were marching straight toward him.
Meili leaned her chin on the stone windowsill, twirling a lock of her purple-blue hair around her finger. A little, chillingly blank smile graced her lips as she glanced toward the northern horizon, where the road to Lupagana lay.
"My, my..." Meili said to the quiet chamber, her sing-song voice carrying a trace of genuine inquiry.
"I wonder how he will react when he sees all the people he's trying to stay away from~..."