It was only in this moment of respite, as the remnants of tension from the meeting dispersed like morning mist, did the lively melodies and jubilant cheers from the festivities outside could be heard.
As the sun prepared to embrace the distant mountains, the canvas-like sky took on a splash of vibrant hues, creating a breathtaking backdrop for the largest bonfire the forest had ever witnessed. Illuminating the features of the gathered Beastfolk, it marked a celebration of freedom and reunion, largely owed to Daisuke’s kindness.
Fish, monstron, bread, and a hearty stew graced the bowls of the people, the combined aromas weaving a web of delight that wafted on the wind. But no demons came to spirit the people away. The reality of that was intoxicating. Despite having no alcohol, the village folk were drunk on the blessing of their freedom.
Crude musical instruments, once stowed away out of fear, emerged into the light. The night resonated with music and song, capturing the essence of the celebration.
Daisuke found himself pulled into the dance by a lovely girl, his movements awkward and clumsy, but his smile warm as he soaked in the happiness around him.
Amidst the festivities, Whindel raised a cup filled with water that he wished could be willed into cider. “Without Haxks’s noble sacrifice,” he bellowed, “the majority of us wouldn’t be here today, nor would this joyous feast be possible! Words aren’t enough to express our gratitude, but let’s give three cheers for Haxks and Zephyr for all they’ve done! Hip-hip!”
“Hooray!”
“Hip-hip!”
“Hooray!”
“Hip-hip!”
“Hooray!”
Wooden cups and even a few bowls of half-eaten stew were raised high, each gesture expressing the same sentiment—gratitude.
***
Outside of the fire’s glow, Daisuke braced his back against the wooden fence of a livestock enclosure that had long since been abandoned. As he sank deeper into his thoughts, the rowdy ambience of the festivities drifted away, rendered to nothing but background noise. Now that he was away from the prying and expectant eyes of others, his expression crumpled and his breathing slowly became haggard.
The billowing clouds released the moon from their restraints for but a moment. Slowly, Daisuke raised his trembling hands illuminated by moonlight. With these hands, he had robbed two men of their lives.
In this world and the next, it was the first time he had ever committed murder. Even if the deed was regarded as just by others, murder couldn’t truly be justified, and his heart twisted at that undeniable truth.
To a player, an NPC was merely a complex string of numbers molded into an individual. They were dispensable, but if Daisuke readily accepted that fact, wasn’t he also, by extension, disregarding his own existence? Just the thought that he was a superficial existence in a fleeting world comprised of zeros and ones made him queasy.
Suddenly, the arrival of an uninvited voice pulled him from his chaotic stupor. “So this is where you’ve been hiding,” chided Timartha. “It’s not much of a celebration if the guest of honor is missing.”
Without a word, Daisuke turned to mend his expression, leaning over against the fence as the elderly woman approached. “…What’s the deal with Rexar and Milo?” he asked, “they seem to be at odds with each other ever since we returned to the village.”
Timartha tilted her head skyward. As the moon was eclipsed by the shuffling clouds, a galaxy of stars glinted in the oceanic sky. “Elena, Rexar, and Milo were orphaned at a very young age. They were just the sweetest things. Instead of being taken in by a single family, the entire village pretty much adopted them as their own.
Elena grew up to be an extremely loving and empathetic child. She reciprocated the affection that everyone offered her by regarding them as her parents. She knew all the village folk personally and somehow managed to treat them all with equal love and attentiveness.”
***
Not far outside the village, nestled at the edge of a cliff, Elena knelt ceremoniously beneath an old cedar tree. Planted around it in a neat circle were Lunarfrost Lily that were evidently foreign to the forest. They stood in stark contrast to the local flora, their gentle glow casting a warm light on Elena’s still form.
A single tear traced a path down her flushed cheek, landing on one of the small, heart-shaped carvings she cradled in her hands, staining the wood a deeper hue. Meticulously carved into the hearts were the names of the women she revered as mothers, while stars bore the names of those she held as fathers.
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Her fingers, badly nicked and scarred from the carving knife, bore witness to her persistence. She endured until she gathered all the pieces required, and the sheer number of fragments she assembled was undeniably heart-wrenching.
The leaves of the tree rustled in a gentle breeze, as if whispering words of comfort. Raising her mournful gaze, Elena directed her attention to a hollow in the tree trunk. Resembling a nest cradling precious eggs, it was adorned with hay, cotton, and tatters of multicolored fabric. However, instead of eggs, the hollow sheltered many other hearts and stars.
With a gentle motion, Elena reverently added the new pieces among the others, her heart shattering with each placement. The village folk were more than friends, acquaintances, or neighbors; they were her family, unrelated by blood but deeply cherished. She knew them intimately—their quirks, charms, flaws, and the simple things that made each one special.
When she placed the final wooden carving in its final resting place, Elena slowly, reluctantly, rose to her feet. She passed a final glance and a wan smile at the tree trunk festooned with ornaments—her own personal shrine, then turned toward the light emanating from the village.
Though faint, the distant strains of music reached her ears. As she imagined the villagers singing, dancing, and laughing around the roaring fire, Elena found a modicum of solace. The celebration served as a warm reminder that she was not alone, that traces of her family still remained by her side.
***
Timartha gazed out into the blackness of the forest, as if she could sense Elena across the distance and thicket that separated them. “Unlike Elena, Milo and Rexar only had a few people that they were particularly close to. Milo was shy and introverted; he would show his affection from afar and through his actions. Rexar, on the other hand, loved attention and being pampered. He was always clinging to skirts and following the women around.”
“Rexar?” asked Daisuke in disbelief. “Are you sure you’re not mistaking him for someone else?”
The elder laughed.
***
Milo sat on a log a fair distance away from the bonfire, his features dimly highlighted by the raging flame. His gaze, stirring with emotions, was fixed unseeingly on his half-eaten bowl of stew.
Suddenly, his daze was shattered by the sound of footsteps. His heartbeat drummed in his ears and his hands became clammy when he noticed Rexar’s approach, the Wolfkin’s expression hard and unreadable.
Milo looked up and swallowed nervously when the boy came to a stop in front of him, his towering appearance seemingly more daunting than it was a few hours ago.
“Why did you do that?” asked Rexar, his expression unnervingly close to a sneer.
“W-What do you mean?”
“Don’t play coy with me!” snapped Rexar. “I’m talking about what happened in the mountain!”
Milo lowered his gaze, his grip tightening around the wooden bowl. “I’m a healer,” he responded, his voice but a whisper.
“Huh?” Rexar barked. “Speak up!”
Milo’s expression crumpled. “It’s… my responsibility to heal those who are in need, no matter who they are…”
“You bastard!” Rexar scoffed, gathering him up by the collar. “I can’t believe—”
Milo wrenched away his hands with a scowl. “It’s my duty as a healer!” he exclaimed, gripping the garment above his heart. “And yet... I only wanted to heal him so that he could be made to pay for the evil he had committed.”
Rexar—being more straightforward and confrontational than Elena—was visibly upset that Vernie, who was in control of the demons, died without facing true justice for his sins.
But Milo’s sentiments were just the same, and Rexar didn’t even remotely realize that. If anything, Milo felt more torn up inside because he was the sole catalyst who could feasibly have Vernie live to pay for his heinous crimes, but he failed.
Rexar took a step back, his expression chagrined, and his heart sank when he noted Milo unconsciously pressing his hand to the shoulder where he had been injured.
Like a broken dam, memories came flooding into Rexar’s mind. He recalled how Milo had recklessly thrown himself into harm’s way to protect him despite all the horrible things he had said just moments before. Even now, instead of apologizing and thanking him for the selfless act, Rexar’s decision was a heartless confrontation. Now that his anger had cooled and it was possible for him to rationally assess the situation from another perspective, he felt truly horrible.
“…I’m sorry,” he finally said, his head hung. “I shouldn’t have said what I did in the mountain. I—”
“He got the easy way out,” Milo admitted dejectedly, his eyes somewhat vacant. “Death was too good for him.”
Rexar dropped his hands on Milo’s shoulders jarringly, stirring him from his stupor. “He was crushed from the waist down; I highly doubt any level of first-aid would have kept him alive for a second longer.”
Milo’s eyes quivered as they regained focus, and he couldn’t help but remember the excessive amounts of blood the man had already lost.
“I think Haxks knew that better than anyone,” Rexar continued. “Promising to get him all patched up were just empty words; Haxks was just trying to get answers out of a tight-lipped bastard with one leg already in the grave.”
Milo held his gaze, and Rexar’s expression softened. It was alarming that such a simple misunderstanding had him riled up to such a degree. “By the way… that bastard isn’t what I was apologizing about.”
Milo waited patiently, and Rexar scratched his cheek awkwardly, a treacherous blush staining his cheeks. “I-I’m sorry that I called you a human—uh, not that anything is wrong with being human,” he gushed. “A reasonable amount of them is good—ah, maybe not that many but… enough.”
Milo giggled, and Rexar tousled his hair aggressively. “What I mean is… I’m sure I made you out to be a bad guy when you’re evidently not. You saved my life.”
“And I’m sure he would do it again in a heartbeat,” a familiar voice chimed in. “I would certainly do the same for him, or for you.”
“Elena…”
Milo heaved a warm smile, taking in Rexar’s rare show of befuddlement. Then he pulled them both into a hug. “When I think about us, it’s not as human and Beastkin, but as brother and sister—a family with the same blood flowing through our veins… people striving for happiness under the same moon.”
After his heartfelt words, the moon broke free from the clouds, its soft glow casting a serene aura over the trio. The night embraced them in a hushed luminescence, transforming their shared moment into a tranquil scene beneath the moonlit sky.