The snowfall has slowed to a gentle drift, but the thick blanket of snow from the past few days transforms the forest into a pristine white canvas. The towering trees, stripped bare of their leaves, stand like silent sentinels, their branches sagging under the weight of accumulated frost. The air is sharp and still, carrying an unnatural quiet that seems to amplify the crunch of snow beneath our boots.

We move through the forest with care, each step sinking deep into the snow that rises to my knees. The cold bites at my exposed skin, and my breath escapes in visible puffs, quickly swallowed by the frigid air. Without the right gear for this weather, every movement feels like a battle against the unyielding terrain.

Genta takes the lead, his movements deliberate and steady as he carves a path through the snow. The wolves follow closely, their paws gliding effortlessly over the surface as if mocking our struggle. Around us, the forest stretches endlessly, its silence broken only by the occasional whisper of wind brushing through the skeletal branches.

After hours of this grueling march, Genta raises a hand, signaling a stop. I gratefully sink into the snow, the weight of exhaustion momentarily lifting as we pause for a much-needed break. We search the area for a place to rest and, to our relief, spot a massive hollow tree not far away. The tree’s trunk is wide enough to fit all of us, but we check inside first to ensure it’s safe. Luckily, it’s empty—no signs of other creatures.

One by one, we crawl inside. The interior offers plenty of space, enough for all of us to stretch out a little. Once I get a small fire going, the warmth fills the hollow, easing the biting chill that had seeped into our bones. Genta, Kiyomi, and I stretch our legs to relieve the ache from trudging through the snow.

“Genta, how far is the village?” I ask, my impatience slipping into my voice despite my best efforts to stay calm.

“Hmm… let me think…” Genta replies, his brow furrowing as he focuses on his thoughts.

After a moment, he says, “I didn’t expect this much snow—or for us to be so poorly equipped for it. At this rate, I’d say we’ll reach the village by tomorrow morning.”

His words leave me uneasy. We’ll need to find shelter for the night if we’re to make it that far safely.

We place our soaked shoes and blankets near the fire to dry them out. My boots are drenched, the snow having melted from my body heat during the trek. While waiting, I slice some of the meat we packed and roast it over the flames. The smell of cooking fills the hollow, bringing a rare moment of comfort in this harsh wilderness.

Once we’ve eaten our warm meal, we prepare to head back out.

The afternoon light is faint, filtered through thick layers of cloud that blanket the sky. Despite the time, it feels more like evening, the dim glow casting long shadows over the snow-covered landscape.

Another few grueling hours of battling through the snow and biting winds bring us to our next stop. The cold lashes at our faces, sapping our strength with every step. As we pause for another break, Genta announces, “We’ve covered almost half the distance.”. I glance up at the sky, noting how the sun has almost passed its zenith.

We scour the area, hoping to find shelter—a cave or perhaps another hollow tree—but luck isn’t on our side this time. Instead, we clear a space beneath a towering tree, positioning ourselves on the side opposite the wind’s biting force. I build a larger fireplace than before, the flames crackling to life and pushing back the cold.

As before, we place our boots near the fire to dry, though this time we skip the blankets; the open air isn’t as forgiving. After a few minutes of rest, I prepare our usual meal: meat roasted with the fiery blaze of Hellfire.

The meal warms and energizes us, a small reprieve in the harshness of the journey. Afterward, I lean back against the sturdy trunk of the tree behind me, letting the bark press into my shoulders. My gaze drifts upward to the dense canopy of clouds. Though no snow falls, the sky remains dark, a forewarning of another impending storm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Kiyomi shivering, even beneath her blanket. Without hesitation, I offer her my share.

“No, I’m fine,” she protests, shaking her head.

But I insist, draping the entire blanket over her. After a moment of hesitation, she relents, wrapping it tightly around herself.

My eyes return to the clouded sky as memories of my past life stir within me. Winter used to be a season of joy—Kenta and I laughing and playing in the snow, the scenes replaying in my mind like a vivid dream.

What happened to them? What did they feel when they learned of my death? And Yuzuki… she held me in my final moments. Did she move on?

The questions flood my mind, each one pulling me deeper into the past. But the truth remains unchanging: I can’t return. The life I once had ended with my death. Even though I bear the same name and carry my memories, I am no longer the same person.

In this life, all I can do is move forward.

Lost in thought, I barely notice the gentle shake on my shoulder. Blinking, I find Kiyomi leaning over me, her usual warm smile softening her features.

“Did you fall asleep?” she asks, her tone playful.

“N-no… I wasn’t sleeping,” I stammer, unsure if my words tremble from the cold or embarrassment. “I was just resting… with my eyes closed.”

“Hmm… if you say so.” She grins, then gestures toward the ground. “We should move. This place is turning into a mess.”

I glance down and realize what she means. The heat from the fire has melted the surrounding snow, creating a puddle beneath us. We get up, ready to hit the road once again.

The path feels familiar as we tread the same road the wolves and I used to hunt Lumithorns. When we near the valley, we take a right turn, forging ahead into the unfamiliar. Hours pass, and as the shadows of evening stretch and darkness begins to creep in, we decide to stop for the night.

Suddenly, Genta halts and starts looking around, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Genta, what’s wrong?” Kiyomi asks, her voice tinged with concern as she notices his behavior.

“Oh, nothing,” he replies, a smile breaking across his face. “This is the place where I spent the night on my way to the wolf den. Actually, we might reach the village sooner than I thought!”

He points to a natural formation—a large stone slab resting atop two massive stones, resembling a small hut. It’s like nature itself had carved out a shelter just for us. We make our way there, and I set to work starting a fire while the others clear away the snow around the stone hut.

The warm glow of my hellfire transforms the cold stone shelter into a haven, the flickering flames painting shadows on the uneven surfaces. Two giant openings on either side let the cold air seep in, so we block one with our blankets, creating a cozier space.

The forest at night is calm, the usual rustling of leaves replaced by an eerie silence. With the sky shrouded in clouds, the moon and stars offer no light, and the darkness feels thick and oppressive.

After giving our weary legs, a much-needed rest, we prepare to eat dinner. Once again, it’s roasted meat—the same meal we've had countless times before. While it’s filling, my mind and stomach yearn for something different, a taste of variety that feels more like home. Memories of dishes from my past life tease the edges of my thoughts, making the simplicity of our meal feel all the starker.

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After the warm meal and some rest, everyone decides it’s time to sleep. But sleeping out in this dark forest is far from safe.

'I’ll take the first watch. You all get some rest,' I say, but as expected, they all protest. It takes some convincing—me reassuring them that I’m not tired and promising to wake them for shifts—before they reluctantly agree.

The wolves curl up near the entrance, their sharp senses a second line of defense. Genta, surprisingly comfortable, uses one wolf's back as a makeshift pillow. The hut isn’t large enough for all of us to lie fully stretched, so Kiyomi leans against a rock on one side.

Even in sleep, Kiyomi looks uneasy, shifting constantly as though the cold or the hard surface won’t let her rest. I notice her shivering slightly and frowning in her sleep.

'You’re not going to get any rest like that,' I mutter to myself. I shift closer and gently place a blanket over her. Then, I guide her to lie down properly, letting her head rest on my lap for comfort.

'This should be better,' I whisper, ensuring she’s settled. She murmurs softly, her expression relaxing as her breathing evens out.

The flickering light of the fire casts warm shadows across her face. Sitting still, with one hand resting lightly on Hikariken and my senses alert, I watch over her and the others. Outside, the forest hums faintly with the sound of wind brushing against the trees. I know this quiet can be deceiving, but for now, I hold my watch, determined to keep everyone safe.

We traveled all day without encountering a single creature. It seems this harsh winter has driven them into hiding, and now I understand why the army chose this time for their attack. The snow keeps everything sheltered, making the search unnecessary. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more behind this decision—something I can’t yet see.

The night is eerily quiet. Only my swirling thoughts and the sharp bite of the cold winds keep me awake. I fight to stay alert, my senses attuned to the silence around us. After what feels like hours, Genta stirs from his rest.

“Lord Haruto, get some sleep. I’ll take over the watch,” Genta whispers.

Relieved, I nod in agreement and lean back against the same rock Kiyomi had earlier tried to use for support. By now, I’m accustomed to such discomforts. As I settle in, Kiyomi continues to sleep peacefully on my lap, her breathing steady and soft. Closing my eyes, I let sleep finally claim me.

I don’t know how much time has passed—minutes, hours? A gentle shake on my shoulder pulls me from the depths of my rest. Slowly, I open my eyes, met by the dim glow of morning light filtering through the forest. The darkness of night has lifted, replaced by the soft hues of dawn.

“Good morning!” Kiyomi greets me, her voice warm and bright as always.

We share a quick breakfast and prepare for the final stretch of our journey to the goblin village. Following Genta, we move through the forest as he assures us the village is close.

The morning feels oddly unsettling. The sunlight is weaker than yesterday, the clouds above darker and heavier. Snowfall seems imminent, and a quiet tension hangs in the air.

After a few more hours of trudging through the snow, we reach an open area. Finally, a cluster of houses comes into view, thin trails of smoke curling upward from their chimneys. These homes are far less developed than those in Emiko’s village, but they seem sturdy enough to endure even the harshest blizzards.

“That’s our village!” Genta exclaims, pointing toward the settlement with a mix of relief and concern. “I hope they’re doing alright.”

As we draw closer, I count ten houses arranged in a rough circle around a small clearing. The faint outlines of goblins moving about come into focus. A few are brushing snow from their doorsteps, their movements slow and deliberate. At first, the goblins seem frightened to see humans approaching their village. Their cautious eyes dart toward us, and a few even step back. But as soon as they recognize Genta, their expressions shift. Slowly, smiles spread across their faces, and they begin to run toward him, surrounding him with an air of relief.

“Genta! You came back! We’ve been so worried about you! Where have you been?” Questions pour out one after another, their concern evident. But Genta meets them all with a warm smile, as if to reassure them.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. As you can see, I’m perfectly fine,” he says confidently. “I went to get some help. Where’s Father?”

“The Chief is in his house. He hasn’t even been eating—just worrying about you,” one goblin replies. Then, glancing at us nervously through Genta’s shoulder, he adds, “And… who are these people? Are they friendly?”

Genta looks back at us with a reassuring nod before turning to his villagers. “There’s no need to worry! This is Lord Haruto and Lady Kiyomi, and they’ve come here to help us!”

The goblins exchange confused glances, murmuring amongst themselves. It’s clear they’re not used to humans being here—let alone ones introduced with such lofty titles.

Meanwhile, I find myself unsure of what to do. The weight of their curious stares feels heavy, and for a moment, I can’t decide whether to bow, wave, or simply stand still.

I really need to get used to this.

“I’ll explain everything, but first, I need to meet my father,” Genta says, turning toward us. Then, addressing me directly, he adds, “Follow me, Lord Haruto.”

We follow Genta through the small crowd of goblins who have gathered outside, their curious eyes trailing after us. He leads us to a house slightly larger than the others. The old wooden door creaks as he pushes it open, and a wave of warm air greets us, a welcome relief from the biting cold.

“Come inside,” Genta invites, stepping into the house.

Inside, an elderly goblin lies on the floor, his frail body a testament to days without proper nourishment. I recall what one of the goblins outside had said about their chief. As Genta approaches, the old goblin stirs, a flicker of energy lighting his weary frame. His eyes light up when they land on Genta, a faint smile gracing his lips. But as soon as he notices us, the smile vanishes, replaced by a look of distrust.

“Genta, I see you’ve returned. But you’ve brought enemies to our doorstep,” the old man says, his voice brittle but laced with suspicion.

“Father, this is Lord Haruto and Lady Kiyomi. They’re here to help us!” Genta explains, his tone brimming with hope.

The chief’s expression hardens. “Lord? Now you call a human ‘Lord’? What’s next? Letting them slaughter us? You know what humans have done to our kind. They’ve hunted us like vermin, slaughtered us without mercy. And now you’ve brought two of them here?” His voice rises, and the room fills with his indignation.

Genta’s face falls, his hope crushed under the weight of his father’s words. The chief’s reaction isn’t surprising, though—it’s rooted in a history of pain. And while he’s not wrong to distrust humans, he doesn’t realize the truth yet. I’m not fully human anymore, and Kiyomi is no mere human either. But how do I explain this to him?

“We’re not human,” Kiyomi’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

I turn to her, surprised by her calm but commanding tone.

“We’re not human,” she repeats, stepping forward. “This here is Haruto, the last Demon after Shien. And I am Kiyomi, the last Angel after Mitsuki and Renjiro.” Her voice is steady, her gaze unwavering.

The chief narrows his eyes. “Hmm. You’re throwing around legendary names. Can you prove these claims?”

I sense a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Perhaps he’s heard of Shien or Mitsuki. But proof—that’s a different matter altogether. How do we prove we’re what we say we are?

“Haruto, Kiyomi knows what she’s doing. Now it’s time for you to do your part,” Shien’s voice echoes in my mind, calm yet tinged with playful mischief.

“What am I supposed to do?” I ask him silently.

“You already know,” Shien replies. “The Hellfire you’ve been wielding—it’s my signature, something only I’ve ever used in the history of this world. Concentrate, channel your Aether Lumirith, and manifest something that’ll blow his mind. Just... do it outside. You’re still not great at controlling it.”

I take a deep breath. There’s no other choice.

I step forward, addressing the chief directly. “My name is Haruto, and as Kiyomi said, I am the last Demon in this world. If you need proof, follow me outside.”

The chief hesitates, his distrust still palpable, but eventually nods. He attempts to stand, his frailty making the task difficult. Genta rushes to his side, helping him to his feet. Together, we head toward the door.

As we step outside, I notice a large crowd of goblins has already gathered around the chief’s house, their eyes filled with curiosity and uncertainty.

Snowflakes begin to drift from the sky, each one landing gently on the ground, a quiet herald of the storm to come. I unstrap Hikariken from my back and thrust it into the ground before me, gripping the hilt firmly with both hands.

“Everyone, step back for your own safety!” I command.

The goblins glance nervously at their chief, searching for confirmation. With a nod from him, they slowly retreat, forming a safe circle around me.

Once the space is clear, I close my eyes and channel my Aether Lumirith, letting its energy surge through me. In an instant, I feel an intense heat radiating from my back.

Opening my eyes, I hear gasps of shock. Following their stares, I turn my head to see it—a massive cobra, towering above the houses, its form composed of writhing black flames. Its hood flares menacingly, and its long, shadow-like body sways, mirroring my movements as though it’s a part of me.

The villagers are frozen in place, their faces pale with fear. Only Kiyomi steps forward. She raises her palm toward the cobra, and golden armor materializes around it, transforming the creature into a sight even more formidable. The shimmering golden plates glint in the dim light, amplifying its terrifying majesty.

“Now, Chief,” I say, my voice firm yet steady, “what do you say? Is this enough proof that we are not human?”

The chief’s legs give way, and he collapses to his knees. One by one, the other goblins follow, bowing before me. I suppress a sigh—I’m getting used to this reaction.

Focusing inward, I slow the flow of my Lumirith, dissipating the cobra into nothingness. Then, I stride toward the chief, reaching out to lift him gently by his shoulders.

“I don’t want your fear,” I tell him earnestly. “I only want to help you—and to fulfill the promise I made to Shien.”

The chief’s eyes meet mine, filled with newfound respect and remorse. “I’m sorry for distrusting you, Lord Haruto... and Lady Kiyomi.” He glances at her with a nod of acknowledgment.

“Let’s go inside,” he continues. “The snowfall is about to start."