Light cascaded through the window and onto the floor. The streets outside were alive with people, just like any other normal day. Their daily lives were resumed as though the events of the day before had never transpired, and their voices bled through the walls and filled my room.

“You sleep too much,” scolded a voice from opposite my bed. I was still too tired to fully open my eyes and thought that I was probably just hallucinating. After all, there was no way that he could be in here, because I’d seen him die yesterday…

Maybe half an hour later I finally opened my eyes and sat up. I looked towards the door and the window and saw that I was alone. What a weird dream… I thought to myself, wondering just how big of an impact this World was having on me. If I was seeing and hearing things, it would be very hard to know what was real and what wasn’t.[1]

“Do you know much time I’ve wasted here, waiting on you?”

I quickly turned and looked towards the bathtub, where Hayato lounged on the edge, one leg over the other, watching me.

“H-how…?”

“Didn’t she already tell you? This is what we do. Die and die and die, becoming wiser with every life spent.”

“You’re immortal??”

“Not quite.”

I blinked, sleep still clouding my mind a bit, then I remembered the word the Lady had used: Dawnlight. “Is that your power? Undeath?”

“It’s not undeath… it’s more like, rebirth.”

“How many times have you died?”

“A lot,” he answered. “But that’s not why I’m here. The reason why I’m here is because of you. You might be in the good graces of our Lady, but I heard your exchange with the Laughing Swordsman. You two knew each other…” he said, alluding to the most obvious conclusion anyone would make based on that.

“He’s the reason why I’m here,” I replied, truthfully. “But he and his Master betrayed me, and put a bounty on my head.”

“So, you aren’t a spy working for the White Wolves?”

“If I was, I’d be a pretty terrible one, you know, killing their leaders like that…”

“Jirō and Genzō weren’t their leaders.”

“What do you mean?”

“Genzō was just a lowly spymaster swimming in waters too deep for him to understand, and Jirō was more like a substitute leader of the Wolves. The real leader of the White Wolves is still alive. I’m here, because I was hoping you knew how get into their fortress.”

“I didn’t even know they had a fortress,” I said.

“Time will tell whether you are lying or not, but enough talk, we shouldn’t waste any more daylight. Hurry up and get dressed, we’re leaving immediately.”

Two hours later, after going north from the city through the mountains, we suddenly found ourselves before a wide trail up through the pass.

On the side of the trail stood a person I hadn’t expected to ever see again.

“Do we need an exorcist for this?” I asked Hayato.

“I told you, I’m not an exorcist,” Ginko replied, nearly dropping the cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

“Our Lady told me to bring him along, it would seem his insights might be a boon.”

I looked to Ginko and he just shrugged in response, nonchalant as ever.

The temperature steadily dropped as we climbed higher and higher, until eventually we saw crimson snow here-and-there. With such excellent natural defences at the back of the city, it made it an ideal spot for a fortress, as it could quickly reinforce the city’s major areas, while also providing a safehouse for the ruling family in times of war. Granted, the ruling family, that is to say Lord Byakko, had stayed in the city for some reason.

“How come Jirō was leading the White Wolves if he wasn’t their leader?”

“The leader of the Wolves, Magami, had a falling out with Byakko-sama a few years back. I’m unsure of the specifics, but my spies tell me that it stemmed from when Byakko-sama used his magic to force Magami to send the White Wolves to a village where they slaughtered hundreds of civilians. Mitsui-sama’s son was amongst those who died. Several family members of the Vermilion clan were killed there as well, and it ended up uniting our clans, as we tried to work together, despite our differences. But our fragile alliance didn’t last long.”

“I see,” I just replied, not knowing what else to say.

We continued along the mountain trail, with Ginko trailing behind us, and I could feel the cold air scorch my throat and lungs like fire. The higher we climbed, the thinner the air became, which only worsened the feeling.

Probably noticing my pain, Hayato said, “The White Wolves are trained in these conditions. It makes them tough and relentless… if they survive. Once upon a time, the White Wolves were the symbol of our nation. Most young men aspired to become part of their ranks. It was deemed an honour. Now they have become a symbol of destruction.”

“I’ve been wondering,” I started. “How were you able to infiltrate their ranks so effectively? Surely that shouldn’t be possible.”

“Indeed, it shouldn’t, especially not in an army that is considered more organised and effective than all other, and yet, their army is hollow. None of the soldiers know each other, nor even care for one another. It is part of the reason why they can fight with all their might and never surrender.”

“And what is the other part?”

“Medicine, or rather, the drug they take. It makes them cold and apathetic, yet extremely malleable to commands. You might have noticed their white-spotted hair. It’s a side-effect of the drug they consume.”

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“So, all you did to infiltrate their unit was dress up like them?”

“Yes.”

That sounds ridiculous, I thought.

“These wouldn’t happen to be ‘Wolf Pellets’ would they?” Ginko asked. I’d momentarily forgotten he was even there.

“That’s correct,” Hayato replied.

I’d wanted to ask another question, but before I had the chance, the fortress popped into view, and a sombre Shakuhachi melody swam through the air, just as crimson snow started falling from the dark sky above.

“Now entering Stage ‘The Last of the White Wolves’.”

Here we go, I told myself, anticipating another hectic fight, but then, nothing happened, and we just continued our approach to the fortress, albeit slower, as we stuck to the trees and bushes away from the road to avoid any watchmen.

“They won’t be expecting an attack on their fortress,” Hayato whispered. “But we should still try not to raise the alarm, as they likely have more than a hundred men within their walls. Our target is Magami. Once he’s dead and the gates are flung wide, I’ll signal Mitsui-sama’s unit, who will charge the fortress and kill the remaining soldiers.”

“Mitsui is alive??”

“Yes, were you not listening to what I told you earlier—”

“His men too?”

Hayato sighed, as though I was being unreasonable. “Yes, they are all alive.”

“Wait,” I said. “What about Mori?”

“Who?”

“Hanada’s master.”

“He’s still dead.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There are limits to our Lady’s power. Most of those who were living as spies within the city hadn’t been blessed by it, which means they weren’t revived by the light of dawn.”

“I still don’t understand,” I said.

“When we’re done here, I’ll explain it in more detail,” Hayato promised.

“Fine.” I wondered what exactly the limit was. Perhaps it was dependent on some kind of timer, although that seemed a bit too logical for this World. A world of magic such as this wasn’t likely to revolve around concepts that were easily explained.

A sharp wind brushed against us and for once I was actually glad to be wearing so many layers of armour, as it helped ward off the cold significantly. Hayato was still wearing his blue-grey suit, and whatever paint had been used to make his black hair match the Wolves’ still clung to it. On his hip hung his short katana, and I absently wondered how many men it must’ve slain. Ginko, like the Shinobi Master, was utterly unphased by both the altitude and temperature.

As we came around the side of the fortress, where trees and bushes were left carelessly overgrown, we started hearing pained sounds from within the stone walls, coupled with muffled yelling. A few metres further up, we found a section of the wall that was entirely destroyed, revealing a rotted wooden cell within.

How convenient… I thought, preparing myself for what might be a trap.

It seemed as though something, or someone, had broken through the wall and escaped, though by what means was impossible to tell.

“Do you wanna go through here?” I asked.

Hayato looked around, making sure the coast was clear and then jumped through the hole and into the cell.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I said to myself.

Ginko hung back outside the hole as I climbed through. He seemed to be looking at something in the air that I couldn’t see.

The sources of agonised whimpering and struggling were immediately revealed after I entered. Within the prison building were easily twenty-or-thirty tiny wooden cells, most of them occupied by men, who, aside from their white-spotted or, in some cases, entirely-white hair, were indistinguishable from ordinary citizens. Most were writhing in agony on the floor, some were scratching at their throats and faces, and a few more aggressive prisoners were tied up with ropes and gagged with cloth, perhaps to keep them from gnawing at their bonds.

“I suspect this is where they keep those who become too dependent on their battle drug, as well as those who fail their training or prove weak to the stimulant.”

I had no reply. It was a horrific sight, and once more showed me the ruthless nature of the White Wolves, who it seemed had no qualms about leaving their own to rot in this damp and frozen prison. The cold edge of a blade would be far more merciful an end for these men, who, judging by the few emaciated and rotten bodies further down the hall, were going to stay here until they starved to death.

“How do we get out?” I whispered.

Hayato didn’t respond, but just walked up to the rotten wooden bars and put his weight on them with his shoulder. It budged quite a bit from just a gentle push, so he stepped back and in two swift and efficient cuts with his sword scored deep grooves in the top and bottom of the bars. He then pushed them again and this time they came loose without much resistance, and all of it without making any sounds that weren’t drowned out in the anguished chorus of the prisoners.

“Their emotions have been robbed,” Ginko suddenly commented, startling me. I hadn’t heard him follow us in.

“What do you mean?” Hayato asked.

“The air is thick with shed emotions. They are like tiny wisps or flies. If not for their nature, they would be quite splendid to behold.” As he spoke, he held his hand in the air as though a butterfly had landed on it and he stared at his finger in the blank stare that I’d come to associate him and his flat, apathetic speech.

I looked back to the Master Shinobi, who seemed to be contemplating Ginko’s words.

“The Wolf Pellets certainly make their consumers pliable and void of empathy.”

“Is there a way to give them back their emotions? If they’re like flies, can’t you catch and put them back?”

Ginko shook his head.

“Let us find Magami,” Hayato urged us.

“I will stay here a while longer,” the Mushishi responded.

As I exited, I took one last look at the writhing forms and Ginko who crouched in front of the cells, watching the people within. I’d make sure no one else would experience their fate, and, hopefully, those that still lived would receive the mercy of Lord Mitsui.

Outside, Hayato was staring off into the distance. Something about his stance made me worried.

“What now?”

“This is strange,” he remarked, ignoring my question.

“Yeah,” I replied after looking around. “There aren’t any guards. Where have all the Wolves gone?”

“My information says they number several hundred strong. For their fortress to be completely abandoned is impossible.”

“Is it possible your information is wrong?” After all, we’d only fought about three-hundred the day before. So, why would over half of their numbers have been withheld from battle?

“It cannot be. I trust my men.”

“What do we do then?”

“Continue with our objective. Maybe Mitsui-sama will know how to proceed.”

I didn’t argue, although I thought it was unlikely that Magami would be present, when all of his men were not. As we strode across the open courtyard, passing a barracks and a blacksmith, I realised that the architecture here was all wrong. The entire fortress was built of stone, and, aside from a few wooden structures here and there, looked completely unlike the rest of this World’s buildings. In fact, it was almost like the White Wolves had taken over a small castle belonging to the Forlorn Kingdom.

We stopped before the main building, which likely housed a kitchen and a few chambers for official meetings and things along those lines. I turned to Hayato, who was looking around suspiciously.

“Who built this place?”

“No one knows,” he replied. “Our nation is still young, and four generations ago, when our first ancestors came to this land, places such as these dotted the landscape. The Vermilion Bird occupy the largest castle in the region, and it too was built by foreign hands.”

Perhaps the Forlorn Kingdom once extended this far, I secretly[2] speculated. It made me wonder if there was somehow a perceptible link between this World and the Forlorn Kingdom. It was possible that they both occupied the same universe, but across different time periods. Perhaps I would find a similar link when I went to the next World after this one. It also made me think that if I walked far enough in one direction, I would eventually reach Gothershall and the Forgotten Village, though I wasn’t sure if the Worlds had been designed in a way that actually allowed you to do such a thing. Had I been the exploring type, I might’ve tested out this hypothesis, but as it stood, it was the least of my priorities.

The Shakuhachi melody in the air played a high-pitched note that fluttered dramatically. As if summoned by the flute, carefree footsteps approached from behind, crunching in the snow-covered earth. Hayato and I both turned at the same time, hands instinctively seeking the reassuring presence of our blades.

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[1] Paradoxically, nothing in this universe was real, and yet some things felt like they were, but, in truth, the hallucinations and nightmarish visions were just as real as everything else that I experienced here, and just as equally fabricated as the rest. Truly a mind-splitting conundrum.

[2] Hayato didn’t seem like he trusted me that much as it were, and revealing any knowledge that I shouldn’t be able to know, would likely make matters even worse. Or it was possible he’d just blank out and ignore my words, as though I’d never said them.