Leaving the cavern, the sun’s rays assaulted Yushia and Suzaku’s eyes, resulting in their squinting eyes. The sun headed westward as their hands visored their eyes.

“We’re in Gelatin territory I believe,” Yushia said.

Within the deep Gelatin territory, round and squishy creatures resembling large beads of water dominated. They ate anything alive and were everywhere, though they were more likely to be found in moist areas. Slaves would sometimes find a Gelatin, in which they would promptly leave the premise. One slave a few years back had tried brawling with one. His body was devoured and dissolved within their acidic bodies.

As if summoned, a purple gelatin oozing with strange liquids slid its way out of a bush. One could say it looked adorable, but behind its soft and bouncy appearance was a powerful acid strong enough to melt even the hardest metals.

The time finally came for Suzaku to show off again as she took her wielder’s hand. The rings on their palms began to swelter as they joined to become one.

The sensation in Yushia’s palms felt warm, yet, oddly comfortable. Threads of red ether swam around Suzaku, covering every inch of her body in a vibrant light. The threads squeezed. Suzaku was gone, and in his hand was a black dagger with an ornate hilt wrapped in a fine silk. At the pommel, a yellow tassel swung.

Suzaku, having entered her Ghost Mansion, had become one with her wielder. Her consciousness had become one with his, and despite physically being in his hand, she saw the world through her wielder’s eyes. She spoke directly through his mind and laughed hysterically as he brought the blade to his face. “Does my greatness meet your expectations?”

“It goes beyond it,” Yushia admitted. The blade moved freely in his hand, trying a grip that made the tip face downward and another that faced up. He felt most comfortable with the ladder, but he could imagine some scenarios where he’d need the former.

The hungry Gelatin—though blind—slid toward the Cerulean, leaving a trail of slime behind it. Holding Suzaku firm in his hand, Yushia pushed his feet off the ground and charged at the Gelatin. The blade sliced clean through it, and like a bead of water, popped into a puddle.

“A Shijin orb!” Suzaku exclaimed. “Now that you are my wielder, your eyes will be able to see the ether left over from the deceased.”

An orb of fire—red, but closer to black—appeared above the Gelatin’s remains. “Is that so? What do I do with it?”

Suzaku left her Ghost Mansion, threads of ether leaving the blade as she reverted into her human form. “You eat it,” she said. She bent down beside her wielder and snatched Shijin Orb off the ground, taking a bite out of it like an apple. Her face cringed at the taste. “These are not the best. Since Gelatins do not have much ether to begin with, their ether takes on this bitter color.”

Like fruit, the Shijin Orb leaked juices as well. “Is that why you didn’t want to eat my meat stick then? Because you eat these Shijin Orbs?”

Suzaku elbowed her wielder. “You must not watch a maiden as she eats.” Upon swallowing the last chunk of her Shijin Orb, she let out a small cough and dusted her hands. “Shijin Orbs will take on brighter reds if the being who left theirs behind had powerful ether. The more my greatness consumes, the stronger she will become.”

It finally clicked in his head. “This will help you get your Mansions back?”

“That is correct,” Suzaku said.

Buford’s tales of the Vermillion Bird didn’t cover Shijin orbs, and most of the things he had learned from Suzaku had been different from what he knew. It was best to keep an open mind from now on and disregard what he knew before.

“You’re a slave, correct?” Suzaku asked, staring into her wielder’s eyes. “Let’s head to your slave camp.”

Yushia remembered. Five years ago, when he was being sold off, he was forced to take the slave contract. His blood had been smeared against parchment that declared him property of Master Cliff. Such an event was difficult to let go of, and since that day, he did his best to forget it. “I am.”

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Suzaku held her wielder’s hand again, causing the rings on their palms to heat up again. She didn’t activate her Ghost Mansion. Being in such a state for long periods of time strained her body, so when the trouble arrived, she’d activate it before deactivating it again. “Let us break that contract. My greatness will not let her wielder be owned by someone else.”

The two trekked through the forests and toward the slave camp. Yushia’s slave contract gave him a mental compass of the direction of his master. The thought of being freed from his contract seemed nearly impossible, but the confidence in Suzaku’s voice turned that around. On their way, they faced several more Gelatains, all of which were hardly an issue. With each swing of Suzaku’s Ghost Mansion, Yushia felt his proficiency climb steadily. Suzaku ate her Shijin orbs and complained about the taste one after another, and she whined whenever she had the chance.

“We’re here,” Yushia said, crouched behind a bush. He put a finger to his lips, signaling for Suzaku beside him to be quiet.

There were numerous slaves walking about, in and out of the mess hall. The long walk back to CM-22 had turned the skies orange as the sun set further westward. Was it already time for dinner? A familiar face was among the many slaves

“Kran,” Yushia mumbled.

The person who nearly led him to his death left the mess hall with a tray of food and two slaves accompanying him. He had a smile on his face. How could he have had one after the incident in the mines? There wasn’t an ounce of guilt within that man.

“Kran?” Suzaku asked, confused. “Who’s that?”

Yushia pointed his finger at him. “Someone who nearly killed me.” He stood up and stepped out of the bush.

“Not so fast idiot!” Suzaku whispered, pulling her wielder back. “You do not expect my greatness to come along like this, do you? Must my greatness remind you she is still naked?”

“What do you suppose we do then? I can’t just go back into the camp with a dagger, either. My master will put me down immediately.”

Suzaku held her wielder’s hand. “In that case, this is our best option.” Her wove itself in threads of ether as she transfigured into a coin. One side had the face of a pheasant, while the other had a blade.

“I thought your Ghost Mansion could only turn yourself into a dagger,” Yushia said, turning the sides of Suzaku’s coin.

“My greatness’ human form is part of the Ghost Mansion, too. The Ghost Mansion is capable of many things.”

Once Yushia dropped Suzaku in his overall’s pockets, he stepped out of the bush again. “It’s okay if I do this, right?” His face was indifferent and plain.

Suzaku sighed. From the start, she could sense her wielder’s crude intentions. “My greatness would do the same.”

“Kran!” Yushia shouted, clenching his fists as he approached him. “Did you think I died?”

His head turned to the Cerulean boy. He was sure he had died with the amount of dynamite he planted. It couldn’t have been true; nobody could survive an explosion that intense. But he was in front of him, unscathed. “You’re not—”

Before he could finish, Yushia punched Kran across the face, knocking him down. He huffed, staring down at his prey crawling away.

“You made sure not to kill him, right?” Suzaku asked her wielder.

He nodded. “The master would kill me too if I killed another slave.”

“Control is important,” Suzaku commented. She eyed the two slaves surrounding Kran. “Careful for the others.”

As one slave helped Kran up, the other rushed Yushia with a raised fist. His body’s momentum suddenly stopped when the Cerulean held his wrist, knocking the wind out of his body with a single punch to the chest.

One slave was left, dragging away Kran. His eyes locked onto Yushia’s burning Cerulean eyes. He fled immediately, not wanting to be the victim of a horrible Cerulean.

“Do you feel better now, you idiot?” Suzaku asked.

Yushia got down and straddled Kran’s stomach. “No.”

In a quiet rage, he let loose a slow barrage of fists down on Kran’s already swollen face, fracturing his nose. He got up and stood over the lying body.

“Perhaps you overdid it,” Suzaku said.

“He almost killed me,” Yushia argued.

“My greatness supposes you have a point.”

A cold breeze flew past. A towering figure appeared from behind, their scent identical to burnt wood.

Yushia turned his back and faced the tall slave master who wore a smile that cracked slightly, displaying a tang of annoyance. If looks could kill, he would already be dead. “G-Good evening, Master Cliff...”

Suzaku had to stop herself from leaving her Ghost Mansion. For the first time in over a thousand years, her nose picked up a familiar scent that she’d grown to despise with all the blood in her body. She could imagine her blade piercing the man’s heart, ending his unworthy life.

“You did not tell my greatness your master was a demon...”