Chapter Nine

Set Into Motion This Dark Plan Is

"Ack!" Shin-ju rasped, falling backwards after Nobujiro's Katana carved a neat wound on his shoulder. The boy instinctively leaped away from his attacker, grimacing as his hand nursed the cut.

Shin-ju landed on his feet, but fell to his knees soon after. He was at a loss—his raw speed and skill was no match for the calculated moves of a Komichi Na Ryuuki practitioner. Even Blessing failed to put him on an even footing with Nobujiro.

"You see, little one?" Nobujiro mocked, raising a hand in his explanation. "There is nothing you can do against this tide. You cannot escape it. None of us can."

The boy froze, slowly lifting his eyes to his attacker.

"It has been fated. It matters not how hard you try to defeat me. Set into motion this dark plan is. Nature has willed it. Heaven has willed it. The Tao has willed it. Be wise, Nomad child. Submit to the powers that be and see the prophecy fulfilled in all its glory."

Shin-ju's mouth closed. He finally knew what Nobujiro was talking about.

"The One Who Waits," Shin-ju spat. "You are working for the Taishou."

Nobujiro laughed. "Do not delude yourself into thinking that I am to congratulate you on your realization. I well-nigh gave away my Master's secret when I told you he was one who would not be stopped. Not that it matters. Your life is to end today, by the will of the One, and the lives of your pitiful friends to follow in due time."

Shin-ju tried in vain to get to his feet when he saw Nobujiro grasp his Katana with two hands. The Payon Knight was going to kill him.

Desperately, Shin-ju's eyes darted between Nobujiro in his weapon-quicken aura and the ground at his feet. He tried to remember Akira's lessons about Komichi Na Ryuuki. If he were to defeat Nobujiro, he would need to know the mechanics of the Payon Knight's potent fighting style…

•••

Komichi Na Ryuuki flows with the Tao. Phenomena occur when they do because the greater balance sees it fit. A Komichi Na Ryuuki fighter feels no malice, spite, or anger towards his opponent.

No malice, spite, or anger, Shin-ju wondered, the tension in his face and limbs easing at the thought. Only what needs to be done?

Komichi Na Ryuuki flows with the Tao. Like how the Yin opposes and complements the Yang at all times, the Komichi Na Ryuuki fighter switches between pure offense and pure defense at will during combat. It is only at the curved line between the Yin and the Yang—the thin, infinitely uncertain overlap of the two forces—that a Komichi Na Ryuuki fighter can hope to be defeated.

On the thin overlap of the two forces? Shin-ju thought. I wish I asked Mr. Akira what he meant by that! Damn!

Above all, Komichi Na Ryuuki is not to be used with malice. It is the Grandmaster's will that the sword only be used for good. It is then that the Komichi Na Ryuuki practitioner will realize the full extent of the Fighting Art's power.

Only for the good, Shin-ju concluded. Nobujiro is not using Komichi Na Ryuuki to its limits…

Which means…

…Nobujiro has a weak point.

…

…AND I KNOW WHAT IT IS!

•••

In a single instant, Shin-ju grasped his right forearm. He opened his right hand and used all his might to conjure a small ball of light under his palm. Then he looked up just in time to see Nobujiro standing over his kneeling position, his Katana already on its downswing towards Shin-ju's neck.

Nobujiro's blade met nothing but air.

"Nani—" Nobujiro spat, instinctively jumping back to a defensive position.

Too late, the Payon Knight saw Shin-ju's foot swing inwards and slamming its instep into his hands. Nobujiro gaped in confusion as his Katana came flying out of his hands, viciously kicked aside by the boy.

Shin-ju's position changed in a split-second!

"I understand now," Shin-ju whispered as he landed on his kicking foot. "The uncertain overlap between the two forces… a Komichi Na Ryuuki fighter is vulnerable when he switches between offense and defense."

Shin-ju turned his fiery gray stare into Nobujiro's face.

"Especially one who uses the Fighting Art to his own ends!" Shin-ju yelled.

Without his sword, Nobujiro feebly tried to defend himself as his body fell victim to a ferocious barrage of kicks—an axe kick to his forehead, two lighting-fast back-kicks to the midsection and throat, and finally a sweeping somersault flash kick that slammed under his chin.

"Im—impossible…" Nobujiro managed to mutter in mid-air, seeing Shin-ju's form once more as he somersaulted backwards in recoil to the powerful flash kick.

Shin-ju yelled as he lunged at Nobujiro's falling form, flinging his entire right side forward and smashing a closed fist into the Payon Knight's armored chest. The armor dented inwards from the crushing final blow, and Nobujiro flew helplessly backwards before crashing into a pine tree, shaking it to its tips above the forest canopy.

The Nomad boy gasped, immediately feeling the strain from the exertion and the pain in his wounds. He grasped his shoulder as he slowly approached the motionless form of Nobujiro. The Payon Knight was unconscious, lying face-down in front of the pine tree. A few pine cones fell on his back, shaken off their branches by the impact.

"I… I don't understand," Shin-ju whispered to himself. "I believed Mr. Akira's lessons on the pre-destiny set by Tao… I believed Nobujiro when he said there was no escaping fate... and yet… I defeated him? And yet… I'm alive?"

There was not a sound in the forest, save for the morning wind blowing through the trees. The boy's attention was so focused on the mysterious turn of events that he did not notice, behind him, several iron-tipped arrows drawn well back into longbows… aimed at him.

Shin-ju turned around—and froze.

•••

Mikieru pulled the Redeemer free from the rock face and plummeted fifty feet down into the mountain pass below. His feet slammed into the ground harmlessly, and the Cleric stood up and faced Garrione one more time.

The two old friends looked daunting in their face-off. Garrione was heavily armored in gold full-plate mail, and Mikieru was menacing in his armored Cleric's coat. Their weapons were equally intimidating—a large silver quarterstaff-mace pitted against a seven-foot long sword wrapped in flames.

"The name?" Garrione laughed, seeing Mikieru's eyes on his burning sword. "Kitsune, allow me to introduce you to Sinjustice. Forged by the best swordmakers in Midgard and cast in nothing but the cold, clean sheath of justice. With this, I will hunt down all those who have spat on our honor and singe them with the trial by fire that they truly deserve."

"Singe-justice," the Cleric repeated. "Apt."

"We are the same, Kitsune," the Knight-Mage declared. "But if you continue to stand in our way, do not think yourself any different from those fools who betrayed us."

Mikieru said nothing.

"Not another word, then," Garrione mocked, raising Sinjustice above his head.

Mikieru's eyes widened when he felt the air—and the elemental mana—around him swirl violently. Instinctively he flung himself to the side, barely avoiding the tongues of flame that exploded outward from his original position.

Napalm Beat! Mikieru thought, recognizing the Sorcery as he rolled on the ground. The sword gives Garrione the power to cast Mage spells!

Mikieru jumped to his feet. Too late, he saw several bolts of fire flying from Sinjustice's blade towards him.

Fire Bolt, too? The Cleric thought madly, holding the Redeemer horizontally in front of him in defense. This is not good…

With his Blessing-amplified strength, Mikieru rotated the shaft of the long mace in ever-quickening circles. The bolts of fire met the Redeemer in loud hissing sounds, dissipating and deflecting off of it.

As soon as the last fire bolt bounced off the Redeemer, Mikieru let go. His hands were on fire. The long mace flew from his hands, propelled by the torque of the Cleric's defensive move, and bounced on the ground several meters away from him. Hidden among the villagers, Jared swore he saw smoke rising from the shaft of the Redeemer.

Mikieru quickly doused the flames on his gloved hands on his Cleric's coat. Then he looked up at Garrione's original position. The Knight-Mage was not there.

The Cleric looked upwards and saw Garrione's huge form descending upon him, his fiery sword raised high above his head.

Mikieru immediately jumped backwards, avoiding the blade, but there was no escaping what happened next. Garrione, oblivious to the Cleric's evasion, slammed the blade into the ground and yelled:

"MAGNUM BREAK!"

The Cleric gaped as a ball of fire erupted around Garrione and expanded towards him. On instinct, Mikieru crossed his forearms in front of his face in defense—and the flames tore through his frame.

The villagers screamed—and the Occultists cheered—as Mikieru crashed onto his back and skidded to a stop. The Cleric lay motionless for a few moments, smoke rising from the burnt fabrics of his Cleric's Coat.

Garrione breathed deeply, feeling the strain of the powerful move's execution. He smiled in satisfaction, unperturbed even as Mikieru showed signs of life and struggled back to his feet.

Mikieru gasped as he stood on two feet, his arms dangling from his shoulders. He was dazed. The battery of blade and fire overwhelmed him, and now he was caught without the Redeemer in his hands.

Yet there was no emotion in his face when he looked into Garrione's eyes again. He said no word as he took his burnt Cleric's Coat from his shoulders and flung it aside. Then he assumed a passive defensive stance… very calmly.

"We are the same, Garrione," Mikieru intoned. "I seek justice as well… for what you have done to these people, your people, and the people of Al de Baran."

•••

"Matte!" a breathless female voice yelped from behind the bowmen. "I know him! He is with us!"

Shin-ju's half-closed eyes widened at the sound of the familiar voice. From behind the bushes, the bowmen rose to their feet and lowered their longbows when a kimono-clad young girl came darting through their midst towards the Nomad boy.

Shin-ju exhaled heartily. "Yoriko," he muttered, feeling the tension leave his existence at the sight of the girl.

"Shin-ju-kun! You are alive!" the girl squeaked, grasping the boy's arms as if trying to hold him up. "I am so happy!"

The boy nodded, his eyes instead fixed on the soldiers behind the girl. He made a quick head count, estimating a platoon-sized force.

"Shin-ju?" Akira's voice came, moving through the soldiers' ranks. "What is going on? Why are you here? And… what did you do to him?"

Everyone within earshot of Akira turned to stare at Nobujiro's motionless form, lying face-down behind the boy.

"It's… it's a trap, Mr. Akira," Shin-ju said, feebly grasping Yoriko's kimono sleeves for support. "The Taishou… the Taishou has betrayed us. He's working with Garrione. He's after Jared's Stone."

Akira nodded grimly. "I know."

"You… you do?"

•••

Over the next fifteen minutes, Akira and his platoon set up a temporary camp to secure Nobujiro and to regroup—it seemed as though they left Payon in a hurry. As Akira explained himself to Shin-ju, it soon became clear—they were all fooled.

Akira had noticed that he had not received any field reports from the supposed decommissioning of 500 Payon Knights from the Sograt Garrisons for four days. Two days' delay alone was already cause to worry. Despite his efforts, he was not given any information from the Taishou's War Council. It wasn't until he received a reply from his own informant in the Sograt Garrisons that he realized something was terribly wrong.

According to Akira's informant, three thousand Payon Knights loyal to the Taishou was decommissioned from the Sograt Garrisons. The 3,000 were not chosen at random, as well—it seemed as though they had been pre-selected and were somehow aware of it. In addition, they were not ordered to go to Prontera—they were instead ordered to ride directly to Al de Baran.

"And then, early this morning, I received word from another informant in Al de Baran… he said the Machine City was on fire," Akira explained. "I knew Garrione does not have enough men under his arm to bring Al de Baran to its knees. It led me to the improbable conclusion that the anarchy was not started by the Occultists… but by the 3,000 decommissioned Payon Knights."

Shin-ju nodded, wincing slightly as Yoriko cleaned the wounds on his arms. "Were you able to confirm the reports?"

"I had no time," Akira admitted. "But knowing the situation, I had to risk erring on the side of caution—I immediately took Yoriko and one hundred of those loyal to me and rode out of Payon as soon as possible. I felt I was in danger, and so was my daughter."

The Nomad boy nodded again, lowering his head. "I'm… I'm just glad you're both okay, Mr. Akira."

"Now tell me, Shin-ju-kun… why are you here? And where are Mikieru and Jared?"

Shin-ju swallowed slightly. "I… left the party, Mr. Akira. I left them and headed back towards Payon. I wanted to make sure Yori… I wanted to make sure both of you were okay."

Yoriko tried her hardest not to turn red when she heard that.

"You left them?" Akira repeated, dumbstruck. "Why? What happened?"

"We were… attacked, Mr. Akira. The four escorts sent by the Taishou were Occultists in disguise. Three of them tried to kill us in our sleep, but Senpai—Mikieru—saw through the ruse somehow. He was able to stop the three. The fourth was Nobujiro. We were all assuming he was headed for Al de Baran, but in fact he was returning to Payon. I ran into him on my way here."

"He was returning to Payon… which means…"

"He was in the Taishou's service."

Akira rose, a grim look on his face. "Where are Mikieru and Jared now, Shin-ju?"

"They're probably on their way to Al de Baran by now…"

Akira nodded at the boy's answer, immediately turning towards his soldiers and bellowing commands to break camp and to ride on his order. Within minutes, all of them were on their Peco-pecos, riding at full gallop north—towards Al de Baran.

•••

Mikieru pushed off the ground and lunged towards Garrione, fists clenched. The Knight-Mage immediately raised Sinjustice in front of his face and summoned another Napalm Beat spell—one that exploded inches behind the rapidly accelerating Cleric.

Undaunted, Garrione raised the flaming sword high above his head and threw it down in an arc, releasing several bolts of fire that snaked through the air towards Mikieru with unerring accuracy.

Mikieru suddenly changed direction, and instead of running towards Garrione he sprinted towards the rock face. The fire bolts crashed into the ground behind him as he evaded the spell with his amplified speed.

Jared and the villagers gaped in awe as Mikieru planted his feet on the cliff face of the mountain pass and ran vertically at an angle towards Garrione. The last fire bolt slammed into a boulder that Mikieru had leapt off of, sending it tumbling down the rock face and slamming in front of the stunned Occultists watching the fight.

Garrione grinned, seeing Mikieru's form spiraling in mid-air towards him. He tried not to laugh, truly amused by the Cleric's desperation tactic. As Mikieru descended, the Knight-Mage spun on his feet, gathering momentum—and red-hot flames—into his blade.

"It ends now!" Garrione yelled, throwing his sword in a two-handed downward slash aimed at Mikieru's shoulder.

"MAGNUM BREAK!"

The Knight-Mage failed to notice that one of Mikieru's hands was clenched on his chest, flicking outward as Sinjustice swung in and opening at the last moment. The Cleric shouted, in a voice louder than Garrione's:

"KYRIE ELEISON!"

Garrione's eyes widened as his sword met something much harder than he had expected. A loud sound—seemingly that of a tolling church bell—accompanied the impact, and the Knight-Mage stared at the unbelievable fact that Mikieru had stopped Sinjustice with one of his hands.

Mikieru grimaced as the flames tore through his body once more. Kyrie Eleison managed to stop Sinjustice's blade from cleaving him in two, but the clear shield spell was not powerful enough to block the magical flames that accompanied Magnum Break. It was all he could do to open his free hand and summon a ball of mana—about a foot in diameter, and pulsating with pure organic energy.

In that single chaotic moment after Sinjustice met Kyrie Eleison, Mikieru flung his other arm forward and released the ball of mana, throwing it squarely into the flaming blade.

"HOLY LIGHT!"

Garrione let loose a prolonged grunt as the ball of crackling antimatter slammed into his sword and pushed him back, back, and further back, his greaves leaving two jagged cracks on the ground as Mikieru's Holy Light carried him thirty meters back from the original impact point.

The Occultists watching the fight made sounds of trepidation as their leader was pushed back—the villagers were too stunned by the bright flash that accompanied Holy Light that none of them made a sound.

Mikieru landed on the ground and fell on one knee, gasping for air. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand and looked up, seeing Garrione and a raised Sinjustice thirty meters away. It wasn't until the dust and smoke cleared that the Cleric saw the extent of the damage he had delivered.

Garrione was panting, staring at the armor on his arms. Sinjustice was unharmed by the Holy Light orb, but his armored gauntlets were shattered into several jagged pieces, some of which dug painfully into the Knight-Mage's skin.

Garrione raised his eyes from his bleeding hands to Mikieru. He had not expected Mikieru to have known Kyrie Eleison and Holy Light—none of their experiences together in the Frontier War had forced the Cleric to use those skills. The Knight-Mage gritted his teeth at the idea that he had grossly underestimated his former comrade—and now paid for it. Already, Mikieru had already risen to his feet and was charging another pulsating orb in his hands.

The Knight-Mage closed his eyes in resignation, his grip easing around Sinjustice's hilt and the flames on its blade dying down. In a casual manner, he reached behind him and strapped the sword to his back in a gesture that the fight was over.

Mikieru mimicked the gesture, releasing his old on the Holy Light spell and dissipating its mana into thin air. "So," he said out loud, "am I to understand that we are to call this a draw?"

"Quite, Kitsune," Garrione answered, raising his hand and giving signals to his soldiers. "I have underestimated you. You are more than what you seem. You may in a sense say that I have lost some taste for Wycrow and his Stone… and instead, I find the prospect of a second battle with you much more appealing."

Mikieru looked behind him. The Occultists, although bewildered at their leader's abrupt concession, obeyed unquestioningly. They picked up their injured comrades and limped past the Cleric towards Garrione. Some of them shot defiant looks at Mikieru as they passed by.

Garrione mounted his Peco-peco and faced the villagers, issuing his final warning to Jared.

"Wycrow! Hear this! Napolde is alive for now! But unless you show yourself in Al de Baran before the Clock Tower strikes noon tomorrow, she dies! I will not say this again!"

Hidden in the village, Jared shuddered at the sound of Napolde's name. He greatly feared the undeniable fact that he had to go back into the Machine City, but he was relieved at the news that Napolde was still alive… or so Garrione said.

"And as for you, Kitsune," Garrione warned, pointing a bloody finger at the Cleric, "you are to accompany Jared to Al de Baran. You have twenty-four hours. We will meet at the Clock Tower square to finish our dealings. You will honor this ultimatum, if you value your life and the lives of these… as you would call them… innocents."

"These people are no longer your bargaining chips, Garrione," Mikieru replied. "This is between you and me."

"You know not of what you speak, Kitsune. Circumstances might suggest to you that this is a blind search for power and vengeance, but this is just the beginning. Do not fool yourself. These people are not in safety yet. This is only the beginning, Kitsune, and mark my words… only one of us will live to see the end."

With that vague, dire warning, Garrione turned around and rode away. His soldiers followed him. Mikieru waited until the riders were but a cloud of rising dust at the mouth of the mountain pass before he limped towards the Redeemer to pick it up.

"Come! We must help him!"

Audible whispers came from the villagers, and Mikieru soon found a few able-bodied men offering to help him stay on his feet. A man tried to pick the Redeemer off the ground, only to solicit the assistance of two other men, one of whom was Ranche, after a few vain attempts.

Ranche looked on with awe as he and the two other men lifted the heavy quarterstaff-mace and followed the limping Cleric back to camp. He thought about how Mikieru chose to stand in Garrione's way to protect them… putting his own life on the line as if it was worth nothing. It amazed him that a stranger—one that he even called a traitor only minutes ago—would willingly stand for their right to live.

Who is this man? Ranche thought to himself. What does it mean to walk the path he walks?

•••

Gorban and the villagers broke camp and moved south to Prontera soon after the battle. The village elder had left food, water, and blankets for Mikieru and Jared, who had opted to remain in the mountain pass. The Cleric had to recuperate quickly—Garrione had given them twenty-four hours, and Al de Baran was still an eight-hour ride away.

After receiving several well-wishes and words of gratitude from the villagers, Mikieru and Jared found themselves alone in the mountain pass once again.

Jared had found a cave not far from the original campsite, and decided to build a fire inside. While he cooked a batch of vegetable soup, sweetmeats and rolls, Mikieru lay on his back, wrapped in a blanket.

The Merchant had to say something. He was the cause of all this. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mikieru had guessed his thoughts.

"No words need to be said between us, Jared," Mikieru said, his eyes closed. "We both did what needed to be done. That is all there is to it. That is all that is important."

Jared cleared his throat. The Cleric's comments made him feel even worse.

"I just feel so helpless, Mike… that's all," he replied. "It's just that by doing the right thing, I'm putting you in danger. It's just that by doing what needs to be done, I made all those people leave their homes. I look at all this… and I can't find a single damned reason why keeping this Stone was the right thing to do."

An audible exhalation came out of Mikieru's mouth. "I believe in you, Jared. I believe keeping the Stone was the right thing to do. And you do not have to worry about me. We are doing the right thing… and nothing makes me happier than doing what is right."

Jared wearily raised his eyes from the steaming pot over the fire. He looked at Mikieru as the Cleric weakly lifted his silver cross off his chest and eyed it quietly.

The Merchant wondered why Mikieru was so sure of things. Perhaps the Cleric had seen enough in the Frontier War to know for a certainty the difference between right and wrong? Or perhaps the Church taught him? Whatever it was, he wanted to know—he was in desperate need to convince himself that this path was indeed the right one.

"Why do you fight, Mike?" Jared asked. "What's it all for?"

Mikieru laid the cross back on his chest again. "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing, Jared," the Cleric answered after a thoughtful moment. "I am only doing that which is expected of me."

•••

Night fell over the Northern Realms.

Akira and his riders have been riding for the past twelve hours. They stopped when darkness fell, and set up camp in the hilly fields east of Prontera.

Akira made his rounds in the camp, meeting with his captains and giving instructions to ride out at first light. Al de Baran was still ten hours away, and they were already too late as they were.

The bright lights and the distant murmur of activity in Prontera was calming for many of the riders. Shin-ju was no exception—as soon as Akira's tent was put up, he plopped down onto one of the futons. He didn't even stop to take off his shoes—he was dead tired from two days' lack of sleep and the battle with Nobujiro earlier that day. Already, he was feeling his consciousness slip into oblivion, drifting away into the one silence of the Prontera foothills and the quiet, collective hum of the Northern Capital's citizens.

He snapped back into wakefulness when he felt his shoes being taken off.

"Ai," Yoriko squeaked. "I am sorry, Shin-ju-kun… I did not mean to wake you…"

Shin-ju said nothing, but tried to push himself into a position where he could see her.

"Please, do not get up… you must get some rest…"

Naturally, Shin-ju sat up and faced the kneeling girl.

"It's… it's great to see you, Yoriko," Shin-ju said quietly. "I… was so worried."

Yoriko smiled, nodding. "Me, too," she replied. "The Tao has been good to us both."

"Yeah, the, uh… Tao," he stammered, all of a sudden remembering his victory against Nobujiro.

"Is something wrong, Shin-ju-kun?" she asked, reaching up to feel his forehead. "Something is bothering you?"

"No… it's just…" Shin-ju began.

The boy's mind was raging. He remembered that he used to be convinced by the power of the Tao to predict one's circumstances in the future. He knew he was supposed to be dead by now, but instead he survived. He defeated an agent of the Taishou. He managed to go against what, in Nobujiro's words, was an inescapable tide.

How?

"Shin-ju-kun?" Yoriko asked, worried.

Shin-ju sighed and lay down on the futon again, his eyes on the roof of the tent. "Yoriko… do you believe in Fate?"

Yoriko thought about this for a moment, leaving Shin-ju to continue.

"I don't know if you've felt this before, but… I just felt it today. It was a sensation… not guilt… but it made me feel as though I had done something terribly wrong. I felt as though I had gone against the will of the Tao… I'm alive when I should be dead. That's all… it just bothers me, not knowing whether or not I did the right thing."

The girl listened. Then a smile escaped her countenance.

Shin-ju saw her smile, and he turned to look at her questioningly.

"The Tao is very good to me," Yoriko gushed quietly. "I am so happy. You did nothing wrong, Shin-ju-kun. If you are alive today, I would very much like to think that it is because of me."

"You?" Shin-ju asked, wanting to understand what she meant.

"Yes," she said, inching towards the boy's side. "You remember that night at the Temple Grounds? We went to an altar and made our wishes known to the Tao?"

Shin-ju nodded slowly.

"This was what I wished, Shin-ju-kun. I wished that you would find what you were looking for… whatever it might have been. You have not found it yet, have you?"

He shook his head after a moment's reflection.

"Then you did not go against the Tao. Instead, the Tao is very much with you… how good it must be to us, now that it is keeping true to my wish. You did nothing wrong."

Shin-ju closed his eyes, allowing himself to smile a bit. "You made… that wish… for me?" he whispered, the contentment slowly washing away the apprehension in his mind.

"Um," Yoriko whispered back, lying down in the futon beside him. "And I do wish you find what it is you are looking for… very, very soon."

After a few moments, Shin-ju fell asleep. Yoriko stayed up for a while longer after he dozed off, watching his sleeping form with a very contented… almost affectionate… manner.

•••

The thatch roofs of the mud huts were on fire.

Gasping, Shin-ju madly looked around him. There were gigantic towers of flame leaping into the black sky. Screaming people were running around in the blind chaos. Bloody corpses littered the rocky ground. He was desperately looking for… someone.

"Isaac!"

Shin-ju wildly turned his head to the shrill female scream. In the dark, he recognized the teary, pale blue eyes on the little Nomad girl who was running towards him.

"Naomi!" he yelled back in his... youthful… voice…

Shin-ju ran towards the little girl as fast as his bare feet could carry him. Quickly he swept her into his arms and looked around for a way out of the carnage. When he spotted an exit between two rows of burning huts, he rose to his feet and sprinted for it.

Shin-ju jumped over several bloody corpses and, amid the screams all around him, emerged into a dark, grassy clearing. The little girl in his arms wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her with him. He had to get as far away from the village as quickly as possible.

Then he heard a Peco-peco's squawk a few meters in front of him. He stopped running and stared ahead.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Shin-ju saw several armored men on Peco-pecos, armed with swords, spears, and crossbows. The fire from the burning village behind him reflected in their blades, armor, and eyes.

Shin-ju turned to run in another direction, but stopped as he heard Peco-peco footbeats in front of him. Looking around, he fearfully realized that he was surrounded by a platoon of Prontera Knights.

As he stood in the middle of their circle, a rider in a long black coat came forward. Shin-ju raised his eyes to the rider.

The rider was a Priest.

Shin-ju squinted--the Priest looked familiar.

The Priest was tall. He had long, half-parted brown hair. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses.

"S-Sen… Senpai?" Shin-ju asked, his eyes filling with tears.

Shin-ju fell to his knees and protected the little girl with his body as Mikieru raised a bloody Mace over his head, aiming for the Nomad boy's nape.

"Why?"

•••

"So," a soft female voice asked, "found it yet?"

•••

Shin-ju sat bolt upright on the futon, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His heart was beating wildly, and his breathing was pained. He tried to remember the frightening things he saw in his dream.

Senpai tried to kill me? Shin-ju thought wildly. Why?

He made a move to get off the futon, but stopped when he realized that Yoriko was still beside him. The girl was sound asleep, the fingers of one hand entwined around his sleeve.

And I do wish you find what it is you are looking for… very, very soon.

Yoriko, Shin-ju thought, calming down at the sight of her pretty face.

Slowly, the boy leaned down, brushed a few strands of her long black hair from her face, and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered. Then he pulled his sleeve free from her fingers and got up from the futon. He took his shoes and exited the tent as quickly and as quietly as he could.

•••

Akira was in the War Tent with his officers discussing their plans for the upcoming approach to Al de Baran when they heard a slight commotion outside. Akira stepped out to see what was going on, his astonished eyes adjusting to the darkness in time to see Shin-ju riding away from camp on his Peco-peco.

Shin-ju was northbound.

•••

End of Chapter Nine