Chapter 5: Chapter Four – Ashes Beneath Iron

Chapter Four – Ashes Beneath Iron

“Even if the body is borrowed, the will must still be earned.”

Day 228 of the Twelvefold Cycle

Era of Concordance, Year 812 – Deep Duskhorn

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Splash… glomp… splash…

The march hadn’t stopped in seven days.

Muck pulled at their legs like it wanted to keep them — every step harder than the last, every breath a little shorter. The air hung thick with rot and dusklight, while gnats and fog mingled like they’d made a pact to test everyone’s sanity.

Ruki, Kaelira, Mar-Mar, and the seven surviving Beastkin children were pushing toward the edge of the swamplands — toward the fractured roads that marked the Syndicate border. Somewhere beyond the haze, Black Fang Market waited. A beacon of survival. Maybe even possibility.

But it didn’t feel that way.

Not right now.

Kaelira walked ahead, blade sheathed, eyes scanning the mists. Her pace had slowed over the last two days, but she still took lead when the terrain thinned. Behind her, Ruki felt every shift of earth beneath her feet. What passed for shoes — frayed rags tied around skin — had long since soaked through, and now each step sank half a foot into soupy sludge. It smelled like iron and sulfur. Mold clung to tree trunks like leeches.

She was shaking again.

Not from fear.

Just her body giving in — and her will keeping it moving.

A few hours earlier, they’d buried the third child.

The last of the ones who hadn’t made it.

It wasn’t ceremonial. There were no prayers. No goodbyes. Just a shallow grave, dug with Kaelira’s boot and a broken stick, next to two older ones already marked with scraps of cloth tied to sticks.

Ruki hadn’t cried.

She hadn’t broken.

But she felt it. Like a fault line opening quietly inside her.

Not a game. Not a dream.

She’d seen sick kids before — overheard the nurses back in Saitama whisper about failing immune systems, quiet deaths, the kids who didn’t last long. Misaki never brought bad energy into her room. Ruki only knew something happened when another room stayed empty too long.

But this?

This was different.

She’d watched the life leave them. Heard the last breath. Smelled it.

And now she was helping bury them.

Later, when the terrain thinned and dusk started to creep in, Kaelira finally slowed her stride.

“We stop here for tonight,” she said, turning toward a crooked ridge flanked by sickly willow trees. “We’ll need what strength we have left for the final push.”

She crouched to check a narrow run of drier land ahead — flat, stone-shelled like an old trail swallowed by time. Ruki eased herself down beside the base of a half-fallen tree, legs twitching. She clutched her ribs, panting hard, head resting against bark that flaked like dead skin.

Her body trembled like she’d just finished sprint training — heart racing, skin slick with sweat.

And in that moment…

She remembered the ventilator.

The hum of it beside her hospital bed. The tubes in her throat. The steady click of IV drip monitors and oxygen machines, keeping her alive but never making her feel whole.

This body hurt — in ways she’d never experienced before.

But it breathed.

It bled.

It moved.

And that still felt like a miracle.

Kaelira sat beside her a moment later, tearing off a strip of bark from her blade’s flat to start a weak fire.

“We were lucky to leave when we did,” she murmured, voice barely above the wind.

Ruki glanced at her, blinking through her own haze. “Because of the Empire?”

Kaelira nodded once. “Vyrell’s presence confirmed it. He’s tied to the Empire. The others — the slavers — were Syndicate men. Together, that’s a partnership I haven’t seen since before the last arena war. Something’s shifting.”

Ruki closed her eyes, remembering Vyrell’s calm expression. His words. His quiet interest in Mar-Mar’s collar.

She looked at the pup now, silent, staring into the mist as if listening to something she couldn’t hear.

“Mar’s been quiet,” Ruki said.

Kaelira gave a slow nod. “He knows something.”

Ruki reached out, fingers trembling as she swiped gently in the air. A soft chime echoed, and the UI materialized — translucent, soft blue against the creeping dark.

[Equipment]

* Durecast Earrings (Legacy Relic – 1 use/day)

* Tattered Slave-Issue Rags

* Rust-Worn Shackles (Cannot Unequip)

[Inventory]

* 2x Spoiled Bread

* 1x Algae-Caked Waterskin

* 3x Scraps of Cloth

* 1x Blunt Bone Knife

[System Log]

* [Crest Tier: Locked]

* [Bonded Companion: Marzha’ren of the Whiteveil – Status: Stable]

Ruki snorted under her breath.

“No meds. No oxygen. No IVs. Just dirt, pain, and a system that still tracks my earrings. What a glow-up.”

She tapped the shackles, watching the red lock icon blink.

Still no way to remove them. Not yet.

For the first time in her life… she knew what it meant to be unprotected.

Starving.

Unwanted.

Disposable.

And maybe — maybe — for all the resentment she’d held, her parents had done more than she realized.

She never went hungry. Never slept on cold stone. Never buried someone with her own hands.

They used her, yes. But they also kept her alive.

This world wasn’t giving her that for free.

Night deepened.

Strange swamp birds gave low, throaty calls from the trees. In the distance, frogs clicked in rhythm like a percussion section had lost its tempo. Insects buzzed like broken wire.

The kids slept in huddled pairs, curled against tree roots or clinging to each other beneath patched cloaks. Kaelira sat watch. Mar-Mar still paced. And Ruki — breath slowed now — leaned back and stared up into the gray-purple sky.

Tomorrow, they’d reach the edge.

Society.

Black Fang.

A place where Beastkin didn’t have to hide.

A place where people traded in coin, blood, and spectacle — and where her path might shift again.

But for now?

She just wanted to survive the night.

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CAMPFIRE - NIGHTFALL, DAY 228, DEEP DUSKHORN

By the time the fire took, the air had already shifted.

No more sloshing footsteps. No more groans of soaked bone and blistered feet. Just the crackling of wet bark burning slow and uneven, casting flickers of amber light against the moss-slick bark and broken stones that circled the temporary camp.

Kaelira had placed the children strategically — backs to the trees, grouped in a crescent formation close enough to watch but wide enough to spring into movement if needed. They lay huddled beneath damp rags and salvaged cloaks, asleep or too tired to fight off the exhaustion. No one spoke. Not even in dreams.

Ruki sat closest to the fire, legs crossed, fingers resting on her knees — breath low, but eyes alert.

Mar-Mar circled the camp’s outer ring like a shadow stitched into the fog, his paws silent, ears twitching with every distant chirp or flutter of swamp birds. Once in a while, he’d stop, glance back toward Ruki, then disappear into the gloom again — always watching.

Kaelira sat opposite her, blade laid beside her thigh, arms crossed as the fire danced in her golden eyes. The flames reflected sharp against her dark lashes, but she looked calm — too calm.

She’d waited for the others to sleep.

She’d waited until the swamp stilled.

Now, it was time.

Kaelira’s voice cut through the hush like a well-honed knife.

“So, Ruki…”

Her tone wasn’t accusatory — just cold steel wrapped in calm resolve.

“What happens when we reach Black Fang? What’s your move?”

She leaned in slightly, brow low, watching every flicker of emotion cross the girl’s face.

“You made the call to go there. I followed it. But don’t confuse silence for blind faith. I need to know what you’re planning… and more importantly—why.”

Ruki flinched slightly as Kaelira’s question cut through the silence — sharp, clean, and unexpected. Like a blade slicing through thick fog.

The crackling of the campfire filled the space between them. Sparks danced lazily into the night air, vanishing into the dark like scattered stars. Ruki adjusted her posture, legs still crossed, letting the flickering amber light wash over her face. The heat of the flames was comforting, but Kaelira’s gaze wasn’t. It was sharp — honest.

She respected that.

Ruki didn’t expect blind loyalty. Kaelira had already proven she wasn’t that type. Her movements, her caution, even the quiet way she observed everything — it spoke of experience. She was older than she looked. Probably wiser, too.

Ruki sighed softly, not defeated — just tired.

“Look at us…” she said, her voice quiet but steady, “How do you expect us to survive with no money, no gear, no allies?”

She glanced toward the edge of the firelight, where Mar-Mar paced like a silent guardian, ever watchful. He wasn’t speaking, but she could feel him listening.

“I chose Black Fang Market because I need answers,” Ruki continued, her gaze locked on the fire for a moment before lifting to meet Kaelira’s. “I know this isn’t the same world. I get that. But I still know it better than anyone here. I lived in it — not this Vel’Dranis, but a version of it. The game didn’t have the hate, the slavery. It didn’t… feel like this.”

She shifted forward, sitting up straighter now. Her voice grew firmer — less explanation, more declaration.

“Earth was the real prison. I was a sick girl in a hospital bed, kept alive by parents who only cared about what I could earn for them. This place, back then, was my escape. It was where I could walk… breathe… move without tubes and wires. I used to dream of staying here.”

A small scoff escaped her lips, laced with dry sarcasm. “Be careful what you wish for, right?”

She stretched out her fingers near the fire, letting the warmth crawl into her hands.

“I know the map. I spent hours learning every route, every vendor, every bugged-out path you weren’t supposed to access.” Her eyes flicked toward Kaelira again. “In the old world, there were teleporters, shortcuts… all gone now. But the rumors? They always leaked through Black Fang first. And the arena…”

She trailed off, then gave a humorless smile. “It’s not glory I’m chasing. It’s coin. We’re in rags, and so are those kids.” Her gaze drifted briefly to the sleeping beastkin children. “In Black Fang, beastkin aren’t exactly welcomed — but they aren’t hunted either. That’s something.”

The wind shifted slightly, causing the flames to lean sideways for a moment. Ruki stared into them, as if speaking to something far beyond the firelight.

“I know this isn’t a game anymore. And I avoided politics like the plague back then. World sieges? Faction wars? Not my thing. I fought to stay out of that mess.”

She let that hang, then added with a sharper edge: “Do I want to be some ‘Chosen One’ hero? No. Sounds like a shitty deal. Sounds like being used — again. But whether I like it or not, they’re gonna come for me. They’re going to come for all of us. And if I’m not ready… then Liia’s gift — this second chance — gets wasted. And beastkin go extinct.”

She exhaled, her hand running across her face in thought. Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

“So yeah. We need information. We need coin. We need time.”

She leaned back slightly, her expression no longer defensive — just raw, honest.

“I can barely walk right now. And I’ve got… what, a drop of the power I used to have? If they expect me to take on Tier-7 royalty or some empire-fueled demi-god, they’re delusional. I need allies. I need to rebuild.”

There was a pause — not because she had nothing left to say, but because she was choosing not to say it. Her jaw clenched just faintly. Then, a bitter laugh.

“And don’t mind the cussing. I blame Kite for that — guildmate, loudmouth dwarf, best damn duelist I ever met. DJ by day, troll by night.” A smirk flickered across her face. “He’d be laughing at me now. Probably call me sentimental.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

The flames crackled again. The shadows danced. And for a moment, Ruki just sat still, her eyes distant — not broken, but rebuilding.

Kaelira listened without interruption.

Not because she didn’t have something to say — she always did — but because she wanted to hear it. All of it. Ruki’s voice wasn’t the voice of a spoiled noble or naive child anymore. It was something else. Not quite leadership… but not far from it either.

The girl was still untested, still raw.

But that spark? That tone?

It reminded her of the old days.

Of the battlefield speeches whispered through blood-soaked teeth.

Of the queens who stood tall before their fall.

When Ruki finally finished, Kaelira leaned forward. The firelight caught the faint streaks of ash and grime across her cheekbones. Her voice dropped — not a whisper, but something lower. Worn. Focused. Familiar.

“You’re not wrong.”

She tapped a branch into the fire, watching it splinter and hiss.

“Coin buys time. Time buys movement. And right now? We’re surviving, not living.”

She let that settle before meeting Ruki’s eyes again — this time not as a protector, but as someone testing the weight of truth.

“But you keep talking like this wasn’t your fight to begin with.”

A pause. Sharp.

“You say you’re not a hero. That you didn’t ask for this. That they’ll come for us eventually. And maybe they will. But what happens when they don’t wait?”

Kaelira’s gaze didn’t soften — but it did grow heavier.

“What happens when they drag a chain around your neck like every other beastkin child they’ve stolen? What happens when they find out you’re not just some girl with a divine bond — but the one with the bloodline they tried to erase?”

The flames flared — wind curling the fire’s breath like a whisper from something darker.

“You want time? Earn it. You want coin? Take it. But don’t just react, Ruki. Not anymore.”

She shifted slightly, her tone lowering — no longer a challenge, but a buried confession.

“The Pope and the Emperor didn’t just oppress our kind. They erased us. They turned our history into warnings and our blood into currency.”

Beat.

“I’m not here to save the world. I’m here to burn it clean if I have to.”

Kaelira’s voice was calm — deathly calm.

“So if you’re planning to rebuild? To fight back someday? Then make sure you’re not just planning to survive.”

She pointed gently at Ruki’s chest — just once, deliberate.

“You were born to be more than that. You don’t have to become the Queen. But you’re already her answer.”

At the edge of the camp, Mar-Mar finally stopped pacing.

His silhouette froze in the mist — just outside the fire’s reach.

Then came the voice.

Low. Otherworldly. Like a growl wrapped in silk.

Mar Mar spoke

“Kaelira speaks as one who’s buried too many hopes… and still dares to dig.”

A pause.

“But she’s right.”

Another step closer.

“They will come for you, Ruki. Not because you’re ready — but because they’re afraid you might be.”

Ruki let out a quiet, bitter chuckle as Kaelira’s words echoed in her head.

“They’ll come whether I’m ready or not… huh…”

Her gaze dropped to the fire for a beat, the flicker of the flames dancing across her face, casting moving shadows like fractured memories. Then, without looking up, she exhaled through her nose — slow and sharp.

“Do you even know who I am?” she asked quietly, then lifted her head, eyes glinting in the firelight. “I’m Ruki.”

She paused. The last name didn’t come — it never did. The name of her family meant nothing now. Nothing but chains.

“Formerly known as Queen of Tactics in my Vel’Dranis. I’m not trying to sound cocky… but let them come. I plan three, four, five steps ahead. Always have. And I’m not going to Black Fang just to ‘see what happens.’”

She rose to her feet, slow but deliberate, her silhouette framed by the fire behind her — a small girl in rags, yet something about the way she stood made her seem like a force of nature waiting to bloom.

“Once the kids are safe — which I’m guessing you’ve already got a place in mind for — I’ll be focusing on something else.” She turned slightly, the wind brushing her hair as she stared into the moonlit distance. “Stabilizing my magic core.”

That alone would’ve been enough to turn heads. For a Beastkin — even a royal one — to speak of magic in that way? It was nearly unheard of. Beastkin weren’t trained in spell theory. They weren’t even taught how to channel.

Mar-Mar paused his pacing, ears twitching.

Kaelira was still seated, but Ruki could feel her attention sharpen.

“You’re Elven,” Ruki said, not turning around yet. “And yet you didn’t notice my earrings?”

Her fingers gently brushed the side of her face, where the lightning-shaped Durecast earrings shimmered faintly. “You speak like one of us… like you’ve bled with beastkin longer than anyone here. I’m starting to wonder just how far back your fight really goes.”

The earrings caught the moonlight as she stepped forward into the clearing, the fire flickering lower behind her. She was alone now in the dimmed light, and yet somehow, she felt more present than ever.

Then it happened.

She inhaled slowly — deeper than she had in days — and reached inward, not toward borrowed power, not toward a copy.

Her own.

A sudden twinge coursed through her chest. Her body strained silently, muscles tightening, not with pain… but focus. The sensation was alien — wild. Like a river dam breaking free inside her veins. Mana.

Pure and volatile.

It crackled beneath her skin like trapped lightning.

Then — snap — a spark. A bright flash flickered at her fingertips.

Her earrings surged with faint blue arcs. Electricity snaked around her wrists, kissing her skin with faint hisses. Her hair fluttered upward from the static, and the scent of ozone filled the air. Her breath hitched. Not from fear — from awe.

The lightning aura burst around her in a low, humming wave — not massive, but real. Authentic. A soft, electric blue halo ignited around her, casting her in an otherworldly glow that lit the grass and trees around her like early dawn. It was small. Unrefined. But it was hers.

And it was beautiful.

Even Mar-Mar stopped completely now, golden eyes narrowed — not out of worry, but recognition.

“I’m not gonna stand here and say I’ll destroy them with brute force,” Ruki said, voice now calm, anchored. “That’s not my way.”

Her gaze flicked to the others — finally turning back toward Kaelira.

“I didn’t avoid siege warfare because I was scared. I avoided it because, as Kite would’ve said — ‘You don’t need to swing a sword when you can make the bastards bow before the battle even starts.’” A grin tugged at her lips, the kind that came from memory and fire-forged trust. “He was a loud-mouthed dwarf. DJ by day, duelist by night. Taught me how to read armies like open books.”

She stepped forward again, the crackling aura trailing behind her like a gentle storm.

“I helped plan siege routes. Starvation loops. Terrain traps. We took down guilds ten times our size — not because we had stronger spells, but because we outplayed them. Cut their supplies. Flanked their leaders. Broke their will before their walls.”

Then her tone dropped, low and serious — no trace of performance left.

“So no… I don’t plan to wait around. I’ve already mapped the next five steps. This world was my dream once, and I’m not letting some robed bastard with a god complex tell me I don’t belong here.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, the lightning flickering faster now, spiraling outward just a few more feet. The shadows bent away from her.

“I’m not the one being hunted.”

A pause.

“They are.”

And with that, the aura bloomed one final time — a soft burst that washed across the camp like a whispering thunderclap, casting her silhouette in brilliant blue against the night.

Ruki was shaking inside — gods, she was — but for the first time in this cursed new life, she was smiling.

She was alive.

Kaelira didn’t speak immediately.

She stood there, arms still crossed, golden eyes reflecting the residual shimmer of Ruki’s aura. Her expression didn’t shift — not in shock, not in reverence. Just sharpened focus.

When she finally did speak, it was quiet. Precise. And laced with something that wasn’t quite amusement… but close.

“Interesting.”

A subtle pause. Her gaze lowered slightly — just enough to scan the faint blue shimmer still laced around Ruki’s wrists… and then, deliberately, her eyes locked onto the earrings.

A second pause.

Longer this time.

Heavy.

She stepped forward slowly, not aggressive — just measured. Controlled.

“Lightning control without proper channeling. No glyphs, no runes, no amplification crest…”

She circled the fire halfway, speaking aloud but mostly to herself. “And the relics—Elven craftsmanship. Marked.”

She stopped across from Ruki, finally meeting her gaze again — but this time, her tone shifted. Curious. Sharp.

“Where did you get those earrings?”

It wasn’t an accusation.

It was a test.

Before Ruki could answer, a low hum rippled through the camp. Not sound — sensation. The hairs on every Beastkin child’s arms lifted for a second.

Mar-Mar stepped forward.

Not silent. Not creeping.

Deliberate.

His voice came from the side, smooth but coiled. Not raised — but it cut.

“You’ve said ‘reincarnated’ twice tonight.”

He stopped beside the fire, eyes glinting under the shadow of his mane. Not angry — but… alert.

“Speak of divine interference less casually.”

Beat.

“You wear it too loudly. And too soon.”

He looked to Kaelira next, then back to Ruki — calm, but weight behind every word.

“Gods do not act without consequence. And their gifts do not come without scrutiny.”

Another pause. He turned his eyes toward the swamp mist beyond the trees.

“There are ears in this world that were not grown by flesh.”

He left it at that. No explanation. No sermon. Just truth — cold and divine.

She watched Mar-Mar’s warning ripple across the air like a final chord.

Then, her voice returned — low, serious, but more inquisitive now.

“You said you fought for tactics. That you were a ghost in their systems. So tell me—”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Did your strategy earn those relics? Or something else?”

Still not praise.

Still not friendship.

But the tone said this much clearly:

Now you’ve got her attention.

And that’s more dangerous than admiration.

Ruki chuckled under her breath, the sound low and laced with fatigue, as Kaelira’s words lingered in the air.

She knew Kaelira wasn’t accusing her of theft — but the implication alone was enough to stir the embers of pride beneath her skin. The Solar Court of Al’Tessari? Even in the game, making enemies with them was the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Touch a single relic or draw blood within the mist, and their guardians would chase you to the ends of the world. That was no exaggeration. That was law.

“You have your secrets, and I have mine,” Ruki replied, her tone even. She turned her head just slightly, enough to glance at Kaelira from the corner of her eye. “But you know damn well… if I stole this,” she gently tapped the glimmering Durecast earring, “Al’Tessari wouldn’t be sending scouts. They’d be sending storms.”

A tired smirk pulled at her lips — not quite triumph, not quite defiance. But it was the smirk of someone who still had pride left in her bones.

Her body swayed faintly. The lightning aura from earlier had finally faded, but the toll remained. Mana fatigue. She could feel her pulse flutter unevenly in her neck, her core unstable.

Then — a flicker.

LEVEL UP

[SYSTEM INTERFACE: RESTORED]

Status: Ruki Yusato

Class: Beast Lord (Suppressed)

Level: 3

Mana: 33 / 250 (Unstable)

Known Spells:

– Copy: Magic Mastery (Halved Cast)

– Hollow Step (Tier 1)

– Flicker Shock (Tier 2)

Ultimate: Crest Dualcast: Stormveil Howl

Passive: Beastkin Royal Resonance (Stable)

Relics: Durecast Earrings [Unlocked]

Aegis Code [Sealed]

Bond: Active — Marzha’ren of the Whiteveil

Tactical Synchronization: +12 INT boost (active within 15m of bonded beast)

Ruki blinked.

“I… leveled?” she muttered to herself, brows tightening. “Just from that?”

She had never leveled like this before. In Untold Eternity, experience came from quests, mob kills, PvP wins. Meditation was just a passive trick, something low-level grinders did when they had to log out. For Ruki, who practically lived in the game due to her condition, it had been pointless.

But this wasn’t a game anymore.

Every breath, every drop of mana, every step forward — it all mattered now.

She raised her hand and flexed her fingers slowly, still feeling the hum of static lingering under her skin. For a moment, just a second, she saw a glimpse of what she could become. Not because some prophecy said so. Not because of some buried royal blood.

Because she chose to.

“Mar-Mar…” she said softly, glancing toward him. His golden eyes met hers, silent but attentive.

“I heard your warning. And I know speaking freely is dangerous — spells, relics, people — all of it can come back to bite you. But here? Among you? Among those I trust?” She placed a hand gently over her chest. “This is the last time I speak of her — the girl I once was. I’m not her anymore. I’m me.”

She let the silence take hold, her hand still over her heart.

“I don’t want to be a symbol. Or some puppet for beastkin history. I’m not doing this because I’m ‘supposed’ to… or because I carry a bloodline that was forgotten. No. If I’m going to fight — it’s going to be on my terms.”

Her voice deepened, steadied.

“This isn’t about wars or politics. It’s not about legacies or prophecies. If I rise… I do it the KirinRai way. Like I did in Untold Eternity. Through strategy. Through resolve. Through outplaying every sorry bastard who thinks I’m just some little girl in rags.”

She looked toward the horizon — moonlight spilling across the broken trees and scattered camp. The world was quiet again, except for the occasional chirp of nocturnal life. Her eyes softened for just a breath.

“Black Fang will be the start of that. I need to research… study what I’ve become. This body, this power — it’s all foreign. If I’m to take on this world, I need to understand it.”

She began walking slowly, the cuffs around her wrists clinking with each movement. She glanced down at them, then over to Kaelira.

“I also noticed you’re not wearing your shackles anymore. Must’ve slipped them off during that skirmish, huh?” Her smile came with a tired laugh. “Mind helping me with these? I’d rather not roll into Black Fang sounding like a tavern door every time I take a step.”

She turned back to the stump she’d been sitting on and lowered herself carefully. Her legs ached now — the adrenaline had passed. But the fatigue was deeper than just physical.

She looked around the camp again. A few of the beastkin children had stirred. One or two stared at her in awe, whispering softly to each other in a language she didn’t fully understand.

That hit her harder than she expected.

“…I’d also like to learn the natural tongue,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Back in my world, I had translator tools. I didn’t need to learn. But here? I can’t afford to be ignorant — especially if I’m supposed to protect them. I can’t just play leader and not understand what they cry out when they’re scared.”

She leaned back slightly, staring up at the starlit canopy above.

Her body was spent. Her mana was low. Her soul was conflicted.

But her will?

Unshakable.

“I’m done being someone else’s burden,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “From here on out… I choose who I am.”

And for the first time since she woke in chains — Ruki didn’t feel like a prisoner.

She felt free.

Kaelira didn’t answer immediately.

She just watched.

Watched Ruki rise, spark, stumble, and still keep walking.

Watched the wind catch her hair, how the arc of mana still danced faintly across her skin, despite the exhaustion creeping in.

The girl’s presence had changed. Not loud. Not overt. But undeniable.

And when Ruki spoke of trust — of not being a burden — that was the moment Kaelira finally moved.

She stepped toward her with the silence of someone trained to disappear into walls. No wasted movements. No loose breath. Just purpose.

She knelt beside her without a word, her fingers already moving toward the rusted cuffs at Ruki’s wrists.

Click.

The first one snapped loose.

Kaelira’s voice was low. Not soft — but measured.

Not approval. Not warning. Just truth.

“You’re not ready to lead yet.”

The second cuff loosened — then stopped, still half-latched.

“But you’re not just surviving anymore either.”

She held the cuff in place for a beat longer than she needed to — a subtle pressure — as if weighing something she wasn’t saying out loud.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the last shackle unlocked.

“You keep earning moments like this… and maybe I’ll stop holding back.”

Kaelira rose, slipping the metal pieces into her satchel without ceremony.

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

She turned toward the fire, but her voice drifted behind her — just once, just enough.

“Sleep. Black Fang won’t care who you were yesterday.”

A flicker passed through the camp — not wind, not magic.

Awareness.

Mar-Mar sat now, low beside the stump, tail curled around his paws, ears twitching slowly as if listening to things the others couldn’t hear.

His eyes met Ruki’s.

Not glowing. Not grand. Just steady — the eyes of something ancient, bound, and deeply watchful.

“You speak of becoming who you choose.”

A pause. His voice remained level — not cold, but distant in the way stars are distant: visible, untouchable.

“Then begin by choosing silence when it matters.”

He didn’t scold her.

He didn’t repeat his warning.

Just one, slow nod — the kind given by divine beasts who have seen enough to stop speaking.

“You walk with divine breath in your lungs. That alone is enough to draw blades and prayer.”

Then, softer — so quiet only Ruki would hear it:

“One god’s gift is another kingdom’s curse.”

The Camp

The fire crackled gently.

A breeze rolled through the clearing, carrying with it the faint scent of moss and cinder. One of the children murmured in their sleep. Another curled tighter into a cloak that wasn’t theirs.

Above them, the stars stretched on — unmoved, but somehow… more attentive.

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End of Chapter 4

Next Chapter Five - Ashes Beneath Iron — Part II: The Teeth of Black Fang

“This isn’t about prophecies or bloodlines. If I rise… I do it the KirinRai way.”

— Ruki Yusato, Chapter Five: Ashes Beneath Iron II : The Teeth of Black Fang