A full week had passed since Akitsu Shouga and Kael Ardent arrived in Soren Village. Seven days of quiet. Seven days of snow and unfamiliar warmth.

  For Kael, it was almost surreal—his first time sleeping without the weight of expectation pressing down on him. No armor. No titles. No kingdom demanding feats of heroism. Just sleep that came easily and held him without judgment.

  For Akitsu, it was stranger still—a rest without death chasing him, without endless doors of impossible choices splitting into infinite paths. A rare pause in a life that refused to pause itself.

  But now, the day had come. Time to leave.

  The tundra lay calm beneath a pale morning sun. Snow fell gently, brushing against their shoulders and hair. Not cruel, not biting—almost welcoming. At the edge of the village, the giant tree rose, immense and ancient, its silvered bark scarred by centuries. The Hollow doorframe in its trunk waited silently, familiar and dark, an unspoken threshold.

  Eldran Thalos Soryu, the village chief, stood before it. The weight of centuries settled in his posture, shoulders trembling faintly despite the careful control of his bearing. In his hands were two heavy satchels, lined with necessities.

  Vale stood at his side, her white hair tied loosely, her violet eyes glassy with unspoken emotion.

  Kael and Akitsu faced them silently.

  “…You’re certain you must go?” Eldran asked, voice low, almost hesitant.

  Akitsu inclined his head. “We cannot stay forever.”

  Kael’s fists clenched tightly. “Grandfather…”

  Eldran stepped forward and pressed a satchel into Kael’s hands. “Food. Tools. Cold-weather gear. Enough for weeks.” Then he handed the second bag to Akitsu. “And for you. Though I suspect you would survive even without it.”

  Akitsu accepted the satchel with a nod. “Thank you.”

  Eldran’s lips trembled. “…You’ve only just returned to me,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on Kael. “And now you leave again.”

  Kael swallowed. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

  Vale stepped forward, pressing her forehead against Kael’s shoulder. “You better,” she whispered. “Or I’ll come drag you back myself.”

  Kael laughed weakly. “That sounds terrifying.”

  Eldran turned away for a moment, lifting a hand to his eyes. “…Come back soon,” he said hoarsely. “Both of you.”

  Akitsu bowed deeply. “We will.”

  Without another word, Akitsu stepped through the Hollow. The world twisted. Light folded inward.

  Kael lingered a fraction longer, gaze fixed on the village behind him. “…I’ll see you again,” he said softly. Then he followed.

  The light shifted, the air rearranged itself, and suddenly…

  Kael stumbled, catching himself against a jagged stone. “—Huh?”

  Akitsu straightened beside him, eyes sweeping the area. “…This isn’t the lively forest.”

  They stood before another giant tree, another Hollow doorframe—but this one was set into crumbling stone. Broken walls rose in uneven, choking angles, vines crawling along every surface. Moss-covered pillars leaned precariously. The air smelled of damp earth, decay, and something older—something untouched for centuries.

  “…Where are we?” Kael asked, voice low.

  Akitsu’s gaze swept the ruins. “…This might be another exit,” he said finally. “Soren Village probably has more than one.”

  Kael nodded uncertainly. “Then… let’s look around.”

  They moved cautiously. Each step echoed faintly against stone that had once borne the weight of an empire. Broken archways towered above them. Bridges crumbled into tangled greenery. Walls were etched with faded symbols—crowns, wings, sigils no living hand could decipher.

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  “…This place is huge,” Kael muttered.

  “Too huge for a mere outpost,” Akitsu replied, scanning the fractured horizon.

  They emerged into what might once have been a grand courtyard—and froze.

  Ahead lay a sheer cliff. Kael approached it carefully. “…Akitsu.”

  Akitsu joined him.

  Half of the castle—or perhaps half of an entire kingdom—was gone. The stone simply… ended.

  Below, tangled in the roots and branches of the forest, lay the other half of the ruins, sunken deep into the earth. Towers lay sideways, streets suspended in a forest canopy. Yet astonishingly, nothing was crushed.

  “…It didn’t collapse,” Kael whispered slowly.

  Akitsu nodded. “It sank.”

  Kael frowned. “The whole place?”

  They moved along the edge, peering down.

  “There’s no path,” Kael said, voice tight. “No stairs. No bridges.”

  Akitsu’s eyes scanned the cliff face, rough and jagged. “Then we climb.”

  Kael blinked, incredulous. “Down there?”

  “Do you see another option?” Akitsu asked evenly.

  Kael exhaled sharply. “…No.”

  Akitsu turned slightly toward Seraphine Orion. “Orion.”

  The half-transparent figure appeared at his side almost instantly. “Already on it,” she said, voice calm.

  Vines burst from cracks in the stone, thick and supple, winding downward like living ropes.

  “…You make this look easy,” Kael muttered.

  “Try not to fall,” Akitsu replied calmly.

  And so they began the descent.

  Stone crumbled beneath their boots. Leaves brushed their faces. Birds scattered from hidden nests as they passed. The air grew warmer with each step.

  Halfway down, Kael paused. “Akitsu… do you feel that?”

  “…Yes,” Akitsu replied quietly.

  Life.

  When they finally reached the bottom, they stopped.

  Before them stretched a hidden world, untouched by human interference for centuries. Sunlight filtered through colossal trees, broken stone catching the beams and scattering them like fractured glass. Water ran gently through streets now converted to rivers, reflecting the light in silver ripples. Flowers bloomed where thrones once stood. Deer moved freely across crumbled courtyards. Birds nested in fallen towers, their songs echoing through the ruins.

  “…It’s beautiful,” Kael whispered, spinning slowly to take in the sight.

  Akitsu exhaled, a rare sound of awe escaping him. “…A buried kingdom,” he murmured. “Still alive.”

  Seraphine smiled faintly, eyes sweeping the lush reclamation of civilization. “Nature reclaims what is abandoned,” she said softly.

  Kael turned to Akitsu, eyes wide. “…How could something like this just… disappear?”

  Akitsu gazed toward a distant spire, its stone fa?ade crawling with vines, moss, and ivy. “…Kingdoms fall,” he said quietly. “Some just do it more quietly than others.”

  Kael glanced at him, voice low, cautious. “…You sound like you’ve seen this before.”

  Akitsu didn’t answer. He simply observed the ruins, the hidden life intertwining with the ghosts of a forgotten civilization.

  The wind rustled through the leaves, carrying faint echoes—memories of laughter, of celebration, of sorrow. Somewhere beneath the ruins, the history of a kingdom waited silently, patient and unmoving, for those willing to discover it.

  And neither Kael nor Akitsu realized—they had stepped into a place the world had tried very hard to forget.