The portal shimmers open, and Lemres steps through, tossing his hat onto the wooden floor with a sigh.

  “Judging by the lack of a sword, I’m guessing you didn’t have much luck?” Demono says, lounging with her feet on the coffee table and her hands behind her head. She raises an eyebrow.

  Lemres grunts, heading for the fridge. “There are only five planets left in this galaxy. I’ve gotta be getting close.”

  “Any word on the Morgi Ox yet?” he asks, turning to her as he pops another chocolate chip into his mouth.

  Demono shakes her head. “Nothing. I wonder if the dragon’s noticed the rat is dead.”

  Lemres winces. “Don’t want to think about what happens when it does. But while we’ve got time, might as well keep exploring the galaxy.”

  Demono walks up and grabs a handful of chocolate chips from the bag.

  “Are you sure you need to explore six worlds today? I’m pretty sure the Morgi Ox is going to attack Earth tomorrow.”

  “The sooner I get that sword, the sooner I can stop worrying about it,” Lemres says. He opens another portal with a sigh.

  “Keep me updated if anything changes while I’m gone.”

  And with that, he steps through, racing to see what waits on the other side.

  The moment Lemres steps out of the portal, a biting wind lashes at his face. He pulls his coat tighter around his shoulders, boots crunching into a thick layer of snow. The sky above stretches in a pale, endless gray, and the world around him is drowned in swirling fog.

  No signs of life. Just cold. Silence. And the low, constant howl of wind scraping across the ice.

  He takes a few cautious steps forward, squinting through the haze. For a moment, it looks like the planet is completely barren.

  Then—something shifts in the mist.

  A shape emerges in the fog — the outline of a structure: wooden beams, a slanted roof, small windows crusted with frost. A house. It looks impossibly out of place here, half-swallowed by the snow and cold.

  And yet… it tugs at something in him

  Lemres narrows his eyes, his heart beginning to thud harder in his chest.

  “It can’t be,” he mutters.

  But he knows that house.

  He’s seen it before.

  Full speed ahead, Lemres dashes toward the house, snow kicking up behind him with every step. The closer he gets, the more surreal it feels — like stepping into a memory he can’t quite place.

  “Agnes?” he calls out, knocking on the wooden door.

  Before his knuckles can hit it a second time, the door creaks open on its own.

  A small green frog stands in the doorway.

  It blinks up at him… and then gives a deep, formal bow.

  Books fly through the air like birds in a lazy migration, circling the room in erratic patterns. Some flip themselves open mid-flight, pages fluttering with whispered incantations before snapping shut and landing neatly on a shelf that hadn’t been there a second ago.

  A broom sweeps the floor on its own, aggressively chasing a dust bunny that giggles and darts behind a trunk.

  Dozens of frogs lounge around the space — some wearing tiny scarves, some reading newspapers, and one perched atop a teacup like it’s a throne.

  It’s warm in here, despite the icy wasteland outside. The air carries the scent of old parchment and something herbal — sage and smoke twined together.

  Lemres takes a cautious step inside. “Still the same, I see,” he mutters, brushing a floating book out of his face.

  Walking up the stairs to the upper floor, Lemres steps into a quiet, dimly lit bedroom. The curtains are drawn, letting in slivers of gray light. Books, strange trinkets, and half-written notes are scattered across the space — not messily, but as if their owner paused mid-thought and never felt the need to resume.

  She stands near the bed, short purple hair held back by a black headband, violet eyes drifting lazily in his direction. No surprise. No curiosity. Just a look — flat, faintly amused — like she’s already watched this conversation play out in her head.

  Just above her heart, a glowing red “third eye” pulses softly, cords trailing up to her head and wrists. It throbs in sync with her breath, quiet and steady — like a machine that doesn’t need her attention to run.

  “Ange, it’s been a—”

  “A while. Yeah.” Her voice is as soft and detached as the fog outside. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

  She slips on her pink sandals without urgency, moving with the calm of someone who has already lived this moment and decided it isn’t worth getting emotional over.

  Her eyes drift over him again — not searching, just confirming.

  “You look tired. I take it this is about the sword.”

  Lemres chuckles under his breath. “Read me like a book.”

  “That’s what I hear,” Ange replies, tone flat and quiet. “And it’s why people hate me.” She doesn’t look proud. Or apologetic. Just stating a fact. Like weather. Like gravity.

  “I’m sorry. I try not to come here unless—” Lemres starts, his words picking up speed as nerves creep in.

  “You don’t have to say it,” Ange interrupts. “You’re already thinking loud enough about all those planets.”

  He goes quiet.

  “No need to beat yourself up over losing the blade,” she adds casually. “Oh— sorry if that hit a nerve.”

  She didn’t sound sorry.

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  “Oh, and one more thing,” Ange said, turning away. “You’re a fool if you think that kid is the chosen one.”

  No anger. Just quiet certainty—like it was already proven, and he was the last to know.

  Lemres took a deep breath. “So you did see what happened to the blade.”

  “I saw it land on Mauna Loa,” Ange replied, voice calm as still water. “No one can survive on that planet. That’s why I thought it’d be the perfect place for me.”

  She turned back to the shelf, adjusting something with deliberate slowness, as if the subject bored her.

  “You’d be foolish to go back there.”

  “I know that planet,” Lemres said, a faint smile tugging at his lips—even as a tear welled in his eye.

  “Your memories are outdated,” Ange murmured. “Be careful out there.”

  “Thank you,” Lemres said quietly. “And hey… exploring can be fun. So, y’know—”

  “People don’t like me. The feeling’s mutual,” Ange cut in, tone never shifting. “If you’re about to suggest I try going outside, forget it.”

  Lemres gave a small, respectful bow. “It’s always an honor to speak to you.”

  Ange didn’t smile. She never did.

  “Out of all the people I hate,” she said, settling back into her chair, “I hate you the least.”

  Lemres gave a faint smile, saying nothing.

  One of the frogs hopped to his side, giving a solemn nod—like an attendant escorting a guest from an audience chamber. Lemres followed it silently to the door.

  Without another word, he stepped outside and opened a portal.

  A shimmer of light—and he was gone, back to his base.

  “I know where the Life-Giving Blade is!” Lemres shouted, rushing over to the couch.

  Demono tilted her head. “Okay… and are you actually going to tell me, or are we playing charades?”

  “It landed on Mauna Loa,” Lemres says, breathless.

  Demono blinks. “Do you want me to pretend I know what that means… or are you gonna explain?”

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

  “I’m going to need your help for this one,” he says, voice low, a hint of nerves slipping through.

  “But what about the Morgi Ox?” Demono asks. “If it shows up on Earth…”

  He freezes, her words hitting deeper than she probably meant. She’s right — at the very least, he should warn Markus. If the dragon is watching, maybe Earth is still safe… but Markus isn’t ready. Not yet. He doesn’t have the skills to handle the Ox.

  “I’ll make it quick,” Lemres says, stepping toward the portal — but there’s a hitch in his stride, like his own body isn’t convinced this is the right move.

  “I just thought you’d want to know… Mauna Loa.”

  The portal blooms open with a shimmer of light, and Lemres steps through—

  —into silence.

  The sky is a pale, sickly gray. The air hangs heavy and still, like even time has forgotten this place. But what makes his breath catch isn’t the emptiness.

  It’s the buildings.

  Or what’s left of them.

  Twisted metal beams and half-sunken stone houses lie scattered across a cracked plain of scorched earth and drifting ash. Signs of life — signs of home — peek through the ruin.

  A rusted playground.

  A half-buried streetlight.

  A collapsed bakery that still smells faintly, impossibly, of warm bread and mana spice.

  Mauna Loa isn’t just a dead world.

  It’s his world.

  His hometown.

  Frozen in the moment it fell apart.

  He takes a step forward. The dust doesn’t rise beneath his boots — it shifts aside, like it knows him. The ground here doesn’t forget. The silence isn’t empty.

  It’s watching.

  Lemres swallows hard, his heartbeat louder than his footsteps.

  He came here to find the blade. But now that he’s here…

  he’s not sure this place will let him leave.

  Beside him, Demono takes in the broken horizon. “The world… this is what the dragon—”

  He doesn’t hear her. His eyes are locked on the crumbling foundation ahead.

  “This was my house,” he says, voice low. “Or… it used to be. The kitchen was right there.”

  He points to a half-buried slab of stone, tangled with twisted pipes.

  “My mom used to make the best pastries with mana-berries.” His voice wavers. “I should’ve gotten the recipe. Should’ve… hugged her one more time.”

  “Lemres… you alright?” Demono asks, stepping closer. Her voice stays quiet. Her hand hovers near his shoulder for a moment too long before she slips it into her pocket instead.

  “Come on,” she says gently. “If it’s too much, we can go.”

  “I was on another world,” Lemres says, his words trembling now. “Doing a job I don’t even remember anymore.”

  He exhales shakily. “I was lucky — I had a Mahoishi. But my family… they didn’t. They weren’t so fortunate.”

  His gaze drifts over the ruins. “My parents. My little sister. They would’ve still been here that morning. I promised I’d take them away.”

  Then, looking back at Demono, his voice drops to a whisper.

  “I promised.”

  “I’m sure there wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” Demono says, softer than she’s ever sounded. She can’t take her eyes off him.

  “I could’ve done more,” Lemres murmurs. “I could’ve still been a wielder.”

  He stares at the ruins, his voice hardening with every word.

  “The Life-Giving Blade is still in my hand. But I get caught up in everything — in my anger at Judge Marlion. I think… ending that corrupt bastard is worth losing the blade.”

  His head drops. His next words are barely more than a whisper.

  “How small that choice feels now.”

  “Lemres! Lemres!” Demono’s voice cuts through his haze, sharp with panic. “We’ve got to go — now!”

  The still air shifts — first a whisper, then a scream.

  A violent gust slams into them, ripping dust and shards of debris into the sky. The ruined landscape howls, as if the planet itself wakes up and remembers what it has lost.

  Lemres snaps out of his trance, eyes going wide. He snatches his Mahoishi and thrusts it forward, tearing a swirling portal into the air with raw, uneven magic.

  The wind roars harder.

  Demono staggers, her boots sliding across the cracked ground. “Lemres—!”

  Before she can say more, the storm yanks her off her feet. Lemres flings a burst of kinetic mana — a compressed shockwave — and hurls her toward the portal. She vanishes into the light.

  The gateway wavers.

  Lemres doesn’t think. He sprints, lungs burning, the howling storm clawing at his back. Just as the wind threatens to drag him into the void, he dives through—

  —into silence.

  Demono whirls on him, still catching her breath. “What the Hehl was that?!”

  Lemres’s chest heaves. “The Morgi Dragon. It flies past us. It’s… made my world its den.”

  Her eyes widen. “That was it just flying past?!”

  He nods grimly. “Yeah. Its attacks are way worse.”

  Demono starts pacing, muttering under her breath before stopping to collect herself.

  “Well… at least now I know what we’re up against. That’s, uh—good. I guess.” She looks at him, brow furrowed. “Are you sure we can beat that thing?”

  Lemres doesn’t hesitate. “All we need is the Life-Giving Blade.”

  He steps out of the portal onto a quiet sidewalk just outside the Alien Department building. The change is jarring — moments ago, the air had been thick with ash and the roar of a storm; now, the breeze is soft, carrying the smell of fresh bread from a nearby café.

  Aunt Linda and Marlion stand near the entrance.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Marlion’s voice is strained. “I pointed a gun at my own daughter. I love her, and—”

  “I understand, Marlion,” Aunt Linda says gently. “But you need to give her space.”

  Lemres walks past them without a word.

  Birds chirp. Cars hum by. A child chases a red balloon down the sidewalk, her laughter ringing through the air.

  “Sally!” a mother calls, hurrying after her.

  The world… this world… is still alive. Still warm.

  Lemres stops, watching it all. The silence here isn’t the same as Mauna Loa’s — it’s not heavy, or haunted. It’s peace. And he knows exactly how easily it can be taken.

  He closes his eyes.

  “Not again,” he whispers.

  “I won’t allow it.”