The return flight was a completely different experience, cloaked in the eerie stillness of night. Darkness stretched out endlessly, broken only by the faint, otherworldly shimmer of countless stars. Overhead, two pale moons cast their ghostly glow, their twin presence both captivating and unsettling. Unlike the oppressive and constant Eternal Moon in the prison, these moons felt freer yet carried a strange unease that sent a shiver down Dante’s spine.

The air was bitterly cold, but Dante savored every moment of the fleeting journey. It felt like freedom, however brief and deceptive. Yet, as the outline of Joseph’s modest home grew closer, the weight of reality began to creep back in. The flying beast landed smoothly, and Dante dismounted reluctantly, feeling the moment slip away.

After bidding Joseph a good night, Dante headed toward his room. A faint light from the adjoining quarters caught his attention, its glow outlining a massive shadow unmistakably belonging to Kunth. He hesitated for a moment before tapping gently on the door.

"Kunth? It’s me," Dante called, keeping his tone polite. Centuries of prison life hadn't stripped him of his old habits of courtesy.

“It’s alright, come in,” Kunth’s deep but kind voice responded.

Dante opened the door and stepped inside. Her room was sparse, most of the furniture moved out to leave a wide-open space. Near one wall stood a small table, and on the floor, a thick, oversized blanket served as her bed.

“Seriously?” Dante raised a brow, gesturing at the blanket. “They didn’t even give you a proper bed? That’s... wow. Even the prison wasn’t this cheap.”

Kunth chuckled, her laughter resonating like a distant rumble. “I asked for it,” she said, patting the ground lightly. “This keeps me connected to Mother. It’s where I belong.” By "Mother," she meant the earth itself, a bond tied to her nature as an elemental being.

“Well, if you’re good with it…” Dante muttered, settling on the floor across from her. “So, how was your day? Learn anything interesting?”

Kunth nodded, her rocky features softening. “It went well. Leon is an excellent Beastkeeper. He’s patient, and I’ve already picked up so much from him.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “What about you? When I came back, the Sentinel said you went out with the owner of this house.”

Dante smirked. “Oh, yeah. Let me tell you about that…”

Dante launched into an animated recount of his outing with Joseph, describing their visit to the Nameless Hero’s monument and the mysterious crimson spear. Kunth listened intently, her sharp eyes gleaming with fascination. Her usual stoic demeanor gave way to genuine wonder as she absorbed every detail, her curiosity insatiable.

When Dante finished, Kunth sighed, her gaze drifting as if searching for something far beyond the room. Her voice carried a wistful note. “I’d love to see it myself one day,” she murmured. “The spear, the monument—it all sounds amazing. A real piece of history.”

She hesitated, her expression clouded with thought. “I wonder… where is that Nameless Hero now? Could he still be out there, fighting for what’s right?”

Dante’s gaze shifted to the window, where the twin moons cast their faint light over the landscape. “Maybe,” he said after a pause, his voice quiet. “But I don’t think someone like that would stick around in a place like this.”

Kunth furrowed her brow, her voice softer now. “Do you think people like him still exist?” she asked, almost as if speaking to herself. “Someone who’d risk everything—not for power, but for others?”

Leaning back against the wall, Dante tapped his knee thoughtfully. “If they do,” he replied, “they’re probably out there, making a difference. Not here in Ashveil, or stuck in some cell, waiting for a second chance that might never come.”

Kunth’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes lingered on the horizon. “You’re probably right,” she said softly. “But... maybe they’d find their way here someday. People like that always seem to show up where they’re needed most.”

Dante didn’t respond, but her words hung in the air, heavy and thoughtful, like the distant rumble of thunder before a storm.

They sat in companionable silence until Dante finally stood, stretching as he did. “Alright, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said. “Big day tomorrow, right?”

Kunth nodded. “Yes. Goodnight, Dante. And… thank you for sharing your story.”

Dante waved off the gratitude with a smirk. “Anytime. Sleep well, Kunth.”

Returning to his room, Dante couldn’t help but replay the strange, ancient voice he’d heard at the monument. It echoed in his mind, a riddle tangled in his thoughts. Without a doubt, it was tied to the Nameless Hero, but the question lingered—was it the weapon’s voice he’d heard? Or the hero himself?

The idea of a weapon having its own mind—or even a soul—seemed absurd to Dante. Almost. Then again, in a world where deadly fog darkened the skies and prisons stretched endlessly, was anything truly impossible?

Carrying the weight of those questions, Dante let the unfamiliar surroundings lull him into an uneasy sleep.

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The next morning came all too quickly. A knock at the door startled him awake—a sharp, unfamiliar rhythm. For 300 years, Dante’s mornings had started with the harsh, mechanical voices of Puppet Guards dragging him from his cell. This? This was almost... polite.

“Dante, you awake?” Kunth’s voice came from the other side of the door, surprisingly gentle.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up,” Dante groaned, rubbing his face and sitting up. It felt strange—alien, even—to have someone other than a lifeless machine waking him. Shaking off the thought, he dressed quickly and opened the door to find Kunth holding a small lunchbox.

“This is from Joseph,” she said. “He packed it for us before heading out with his granddaughter.”

“Joseph’s already out?” Dante asked, eyebrows raised.

Kunth smirked faintly. “Rode off on his flying beast again—said he’s off to visit some wealthy friend. Took little Eileen along for the ride.”

Dante chuckled, picturing the scene. “That old man’s got more energy than the both of us combined.”

Kunth shrugged. “He’s full of surprises.”

In the living room, Dante finally met Leon, the renowned beastkeeper of Ashveil.

Leon was... striking. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, his bronze skin glinted in the morning light—a testament to countless hours working under the sun. His short black hair was neatly cropped, and his sharp features carried a disciplined, no-nonsense air. The resemblance to Joseph was undeniable—like looking at a younger, more rugged version of the man. Dante couldn’t help but wonder if Joseph had been just as commanding in his youth.

Leon adjusted the whip coiled at his side and looked up as Dante and Kunth approached. A wide grin broke across his face, full of the same mischievous charm Joseph wore so well. “Good morning! You must be Dante. We haven’t met yet. Name’s Leon.”

Dante extended a hand, which Leon clasped firmly. “Nice to meet you,” Dante said, trying to sound confident. “Go easy on me today—it’s my first time doing... uh, this kind of work.”

Leon’s grin widened, a twinkle of humor in his eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said, his tone dripping with mock reassurance. “It’s easy work. You’ll be a pro after your first pile. Trust me.”

His chuckle was so similar to Joseph’s that Dante momentarily wondered if wit and sarcasm were inherited traits. “Alright,” Leon added, “time to get moving.”

Leon led them to the back courtyard, where Dante’s apprehension gave way to reluctant awe at the sight before him. Three majestic flying deer stood calmly in the paddock, their serene eyes and graceful movements almost otherworldly.

These creatures were far different from the rugged flying beasts Dante had seen before. Their snow-white fur gleamed in the sunlight, their antlers curving like delicate branches, and each bore a single spiraling horn on its forehead, giving them an ethereal, unicorn-like appearance.

Leon gestured to one of the beasts. “Dante, you’re riding with me. Kunth, you’ll take one for yourself. As for them...” He motioned toward the trio of Armed Sentinels standing silently nearby.

Dante glanced at the Sentinels and quirked an eyebrow. “What about those three? Don’t tell me they’re all riding together.”

Leon smirked. “Oh, they are.”

Sure enough, the Sentinels climbed aboard the largest male stag, their combined bulk clearly testing the creature’s capacity. The sight of the three hulking, mechanical warriors crammed onto the beast’s back was absurd, like a slapstick act at a medieval fair. Even Kunth, always composed, let out a quiet snort of amusement.

Leon whistled sharply, and the flying deer perked up, ready to move. “Alright, everyone, mount up!” he called.

Dante climbed onto the stag behind Leon, marveling at the creature’s smooth fur and steady movements. “These things are... amazing,” Dante muttered, gripping the saddle’s reins.

“They’re called Skyhorn Stags,” Leon explained. “Gentle as lambs, but don’t be fooled—they’ve got strength to spare.”

Kunth settled atop her own stag, her massive stone form almost comically oversized compared to the delicate creature beneath her. The Sentinels, meanwhile, just managed to situate themselves, though their stag emitted a groaning snort, clearly unimpressed with its cargo.

With a sharp command from Leon, the Skyhorn Stags began to move, their hooves thudding rhythmically against the ground before they launched gracefully into the sky.

Dante held on tightly as they ascended, the rush of wind exhilarating and unnerving in equal measure. A quick glance behind revealed the Sentinels, stoic as ever despite their awkward perch. Dante didn’t bother stifling a laugh this time.

“Welcome to the sky,” Leon said over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the wind. “Hope you’re ready for a good day’s work.”

Dante had no idea what awaited them, but the spectacular view made him almost forget his unease.

This flight was far longer than any Dante had experienced before. The grazing lands where the Beastkind roamed lay far beyond Ashveil. These creatures preferred the solitude of wild, untamed spaces, far from bustling human settlements. Likewise, Ashveil’s townsfolk were more than happy to maintain a healthy distance from their unpredictable neighbors.

As they flew, the landscape transformed beneath them. Jagged mountains rose like sentinels, forests with bizarrely twisted trees sprawled for miles, colossal clouds obscured massive tree canopies, and shimmering ruins whispered secrets of ancient civilizations. They passed over a golden-hued lake and a dense swamp where thick, swirling mists clung to the air like veils of mystery.

Dante’s eyes roamed ceaselessly, drinking in every detail. These breathtaking sights reminded him of just how vast and strange the world beyond the prison truly was.

Their destination was a sprawling savanna dotted with rocky outcrops, dense clusters of trees, and even a small stretch of desert. After hours of flying, the Skyhorn Stags began their descent.

Leon’s stag landed first, its movements so smooth that Dante barely felt the impact. Kunth’s stag followed, a bit clumsier but still managing a controlled landing.

The Sentinels’ stag, however, was far less refined. It plummeted to the ground with the grace of a falling anvil, unceremoniously dumping its passengers in a heap. The resulting crash left all three Sentinels sprawled on the ground, their polished armor clanging loudly against the earth.

Dante and Kunth stifled their laughter with hands over their mouths, but Leon made no such effort. He doubled over, laughing unabashedly.

The Sentinels scrambled to their feet, their mechanical movements stiff with what could only be described as indignation. Though their faces betrayed no emotion, the palpable air of frustration was impossible to miss. They dusted themselves off, pretending as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t worry, lads,” Leon called out, wiping a tear from his eye. “Not everyone’s cut out for a perfect landing.”

One of the Sentinels turned a sharp, glowing glare on Leon, but he shrugged it off with a grin.

Dante leaned toward Kunth, whispering, “I don’t know what’s funnier—the fall or how hard they’re trying to act like it didn’t happen.”

Kunth chuckled softly. “Probably both.”

The laughter didn’t last. Dante’s grin faded as Leon approached him, carrying a lidded metal bucket and a shovel.