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  Chapter 22: Global War **

  The sun beat down mercilessly on the old, abandoned house, a lonely silhouette amidst a field of sunflowers whose heads bowed under the oppressive heat. All around, gentle hills were dotted with sparse treetops, and beyond them, clusters of ripe apples glowed like small, crimson lanterns. The parched earth cracked under the wind's touch, and five kilometers on the horizon, the city of Neversand rose—crowned by the imposing White Castle, the proud emblem of the city of magic and the stronghold of its most feared sorcerers, swordsmen, and warriors.

  Neversand served as a barracks for one of the Leper King's armies, its power dangerously intertwined with that of King Falang. It was here our group first set foot, venturing into enemy territory in search of "Mr. Kitty," the clues the Church of the Holy Faith held about Kugutsu Island, and, above all, the King of Kugutsu himself—objectives that lit our path like embers in the darkness.

  Back at the cabin, its cracked walls gaped open with windowless voids, and the old, tilled earth had long since turned to dust. Behind the house, a solitary grave bore a crudely carved headstone with trembling letters:

  *"John River—The Great Drunkard of Neversand, a loving and gentle father."*

  Beside the grave, Kaien dozed: a young, vigorous dragon with vitrified scales, whose soft purr mingled with the distant sounds of the plain. Wandering up the steep slope, a group of children spied on him with newfound joy, marveling at the rarity of a dragon at rest.

  Among them was Soken—an observant yet blind boy—perched on a rock, nibbling on apples. His gaze, hidden by frail eyelids, was ever-present in the vivid descriptions his words wove. At his side, Nina—with her long hair the color of the dawn sky—silently sang a charm, her eyes firm and crystalline.

  "Hey, Nina," Soken whispered, offering her the binoculars. "We've been watching him for a week. I want to get closer, but I'm scared... come with me."

  Nina tilted her head, uncertain. "I don't understand how you 'see,' Soken. You're blind," she said, amused and curious at once.

  Soken held up the binoculars. "Look here—he's scratching his belly with his paw. Aaaah, he's so... cute!"

  Nina took the binoculars, and the two dissolved into a soft laugh, sharing the pleasure of discovering a secret.

  "Alright! You've convinced me," Nina murmured, smiling. "I want to go right now. But it's strange, Soken: we've never seen anyone around here. Is the dragon guarding something... or someone?"

  He touched her forehead tenderly and, in a low voice, said, "Don't worry, I'll protect you. Hand in hand, we'll cross the field of sunflowers and apples without the Dragon noticing us."

  Nina looked into Soken's eyes, found trust there, and smiled. "Then let's go!"

  Hand in hand, they crept upriver, moving stealthily toward the sleeping dragon, ready to unravel the mysteries hidden beneath its shimmering scales.

  Laughter echoed through the sunflower field, where the golden petals swayed like silent guardians. Their illusion of anonymity was short-lived: Kaien's ears pricked up, catching every whisper. A soft sigh escaped his scaly lips, followed by restrained chuckles.

  "I love children," the dragon murmured, his hoarse voice as gentle as the night wind. *"Isabela used to scratch my belly while I slept; she took care of me with such affection... those were good times."*

  His tail swung in contentment, sending a cloud of dust toward the little spies. Soon, coughs sounded like warnings.

  "Nina, stop coughing!" Soken hissed, grabbing his friend's shoulder. But her eyes filled with tears, her nose itching in protest.

  Before they could escape in silence, a colossal shadow slid between the flowering stalks. A deep, firm voice filled the air, resonant as a distant thunder. When they looked up, they saw Kaien's sharp smile hovering over them—a radiant arc of teeth that captured their full attention.

  "Would you like some water?" Kaien offered, tilting his head with a practiced gentleness. The gesture carried a human warmth, a vivid memory of Yuzuki's teachings on the art of treating strangers with goodwill.

  Their astonishment turned to panic: they both screamed and bolted, fear propelling every step.

  "Help!" Nina cried, stumbling over the dry stalks. "He's going to eat us! We're just bones!"

  Kaien frowned, maintaining his confused smile. Then, a fierce wind roared through the field. Sunflowers and dust spun in a whirlwind; Nina rolled in a desperate tumble, with Soken right behind. Still holding her hand, he raised his arms protectively, his body braced against the impetuous gale.

  "I'm here, Nina," Soken shouted, his voice firm against the chaos. "I'll protect you, and I swear he doesn't want to hurt us..."

  Before he could finish, Kaien beat his wings with powerful strokes. The gust rose like a wall of air, scattering sunflowers and dust in every direction. In a swift motion, the black dragon caught Soken in his jaws, while with a single claw he enveloped Nina and, in a dizzying impulse, lifted them toward the sky—carrying them toward the sun and the clouds dissolving on the fiery horizon.

  Kaien took flight, carrying Soken and Nina on his back. The clouds brushed the dragon's scales like translucent cotton, and the sun poured its molten gold across the horizon, bathing the distant silhouette of Neversand's White Castle and the prosperous city of King Falang.

  Soken let out a cry that was swallowed by the sky: "My God! I'm alive!"

  He opened his arms in a gesture of ecstasy, vibrating with his newfound freedom. Kaien returned a gentle smile, and the ecstatic youth barely noticed the memories of Isabela floating in the dragon's mind.

  *"I've made new friends, Isa..."* Kaien thought, contemplating the infinite blue before him.

  Nina, nestled in the warm curve of the dragon's back, kept her eyes tightly shut, her heart racing. A calm voice cut through her panic: "Do you trust me?" Soken whispered.

  Nina remained still for long seconds, trembling until she finally nodded. Slowly, she opened her eyes. The light of the setting sun cast a golden veil over her face, accentuating the crystalline blue of her irises. Seeing Soken with his arms wide open, her heart burst with joy—and a tear slipped down to rest on Kaien's scales. On impulse, she opened her arms beside him and shouted: "I'm alive!"

  Her cry echoed with the dragon's soft roar. Moved by that joy, Kaien broke into a huge grin and bellowed: "We're alive!"

  Hours later, Kaien landed them on a verdant hill, from where the walls of Neversand were in sight. There they would be close to their homes, yet still under the protection of their winged friend.

  Soken stroked the dragon's snout and exclaimed triumphantly, "We made a friend! I can't believe it: we have a dragon to guard us!"

  His laughter took on a mischievous tone, then dissolved into a sweet, contagious joy.

  "How absurd!" Nina chided with a smile. "He's *my* dragon. I'm a princess of Neversand, and Kaien looks after me."

  They fantasized as they walked toward the city's main gate. When they arrived, a melancholic silence enveloped them. Both felt the weight of the approaching farewell.

  Soken hugged Nina and planted a tender kiss on her cheek. "I hate this part..."

  "Me too," she murmured, sighing, her eyes welling up.

  He stepped away, watching her from a distance as if to memorize her every step to the entrance bridge. Suddenly, a white and blue carriage appeared on the road, pulled by horses clad in silver armor. A man in a formal suit and top hat guided it, flanked by soldiers with raised spears.

  Nina waved hesitantly, then climbed into the carriage bound for the castle. Soken remained on the hill, his heart heavy—but shining with hope: despite his blindness, he possessed something unique that made him special.

  And sitting on the grass, Soken smiled at the sky, confident that as long as Kaien flew overhead, no shadow would ever touch them.

  ***

  The Country of Neversand **

  The night cloaked itself in silence under a clear sky, where twinkling stars seemed to dance around the full moon. High above, Kaien tore through the air on his reconnaissance flight, circling John River's old house like a winged guardian. Six months had passed since the confrontation with the dragon Kerchack, and the scars—both physical and spiritual—still echoed in the acts that followed that battle.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Inside the cabin, Akari's face bore a renewed expression. Her raw leather garments had given way to a huntress's attire: shades of brown and black, a wolf-pelt hood resting on her shoulders, high boots, and her katana firmly secured at her waist. On her back, a bow and a quiver of arrows stood ready at the slightest sign.

  Beside the rustic fireplace, Akari leaned on a worn wooden chair, her gaze fixed on Zeke. The warrior had also changed: his long hair was now tied in a samurai bun, framing a serious face. His loose tunic resembled monastic robes, but his steady hands traced routes and strategic points on a large map spread across the table. Behind him, a silver shield—with a perfect slot for his sword—caught the faint reflections of the firelight.

  Gotier stood beside Zeke, his posture hardened by determination. The gentle countenance that once calmed hearts had given way to an unshakeable focus: with his arms crossed, he silently discussed lines and possibilities, while the name "NEVERSAND" stood out in bold letters at the center of the strategic scroll.

  In the background, the clinking of pots and cups mingled with the smoke curling through the corners of the room. Then, a tray emerged, bringing steaming cups and a coffee pot, placed carefully on a small side table.

  "Help yourselves," Yuzuki ordered, his firm voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere.

  He dragged a chair over, sat beside Akari, and propped his feet on a low stool. Time had changed Yuzuki: his unshaven beard gave him an air of authority and intimidation, and his long hair—now in a ponytail—fell over his broad shoulders. Chapped lips held an unlit cigarette, and the wildness in his gaze betrayed that he was no longer the same man who had gone to war. Muscles sculpted by months of exhaustive training tensed under his now-tight kimono, while his absent left arm was wrapped in a black bandage—a silent reminder of the price he had paid in combat.

  In the warm gloom of the room, preparation and strategy mingled with old memories and wounds—for in Neversand, even the night had a story to tell.

  Grayish spirals of cigarette smoke snaked through the air, fading into the lamplight's gloom. Beside Yuzuki, a glass of whiskey rested on the well-worn tabletop.

  "If you had simply fled Kugutsu Island," Akari accused, her voice sharp as a blade, "no one in Pangea would waste time hunting you. The territory is too vast. But you had to steal the book... Now we are marked prey—not just by the Kugutsu, but by the Leper King as well."

  Yuzuki remained impassive. He took a long sip of whiskey, inhaled the smoke, and, as if whistling an old tune, exhaled his protest in gray rings. Gotier and Zeke exchanged restrained glances, bracing for the inevitable confrontation.

  "You haven't explained anything," Akari continued, her voice trembling with anger. "You've put us all at risk! Kaien could fall at any moment, and you just sit there, playing with your damn cigarette and that cheap whiskey!"

  Yuzuki took one last drag from the cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray, crushing it with several decisive taps. He drained his glass in a single gulp; the faint hiss of the empty glass echoed in the silence.

  "Akari," he began, his voice low, "don't ask me about your past, or Zeke's, or Gotier's. We're all screwed. But you need to understand: everything I do has a purpose. That book contains the secret knowledge of all the clans of Kugutsu Island—abilities, seals, weaknesses... even the Kanjis'."

  Akari's eyes turned to Zeke and Gotier, incredulous. She noticed they showed no surprise.

  "You two knew about this?" she shot, clenching her fists.

  "I figured something like that," Gotier admitted, his voice restrained. "But we weren't sure."

  "Akari," Zeke intervened patiently, "it's the most valuable volume on the island. Yuzuki has his reasons for keeping it secret. If he revealed that knowledge now, we would all be hunted."

  Akari fell silent, digesting the information.

  "You can keep your distance from me," Yuzuki continued, lifting the bottle and refilling his glass. "No one will come after you as long as the book remains in my hands. I've spent the last six months studying it from cover to cover. It was the only way to protect us."

  The soft pop of the cork as he replaced it in the bottle sealed the argument. In the silence that followed, only the crackling of the fireplace and the distant echo of dreams of freedom remained, as the night in Neversand seemed to press against the walls—and, inside, the fate of each became increasingly uncertain.

  Akari opened her lips to retort, but Gotier placed a gentle yet firm hand on her shoulder, silencing her with tenderness. Yuzuki seized the moment and continued, his tone softer:

  "I've taught you everything I know. We've trained hard these past few months. Now, each of you can defend yourselves on Kugutsu Island—and against anyone who might pursue us, even if one day I allow you to go your own way. I won't say what I've extracted from the book or what I've shared, but believe me: there's a reason I've kept you away from those pages."

  The three exchanged restrained smiles, acknowledging the rare flash of affection in Yuzuki's hardened expression. He moved closer to Akari, his voice almost a whisper:

  "Akari, my pupil, I promise to look after you, no matter the cost... You owe me, and I owe you everything."

  Zeke smiled, shaking his head. "You're terrible at showing emotion. Isabela really got to you, didn't she?"

  Yuzuki fixed his gaze on his priest friend, his eyes glinting. "Someone taught me to be kind," he admitted, with a touch of vulnerability.

  Gotier nodded in silent approval. Then Zeke snatched the whiskey bottle from Yuzuki's hands, receiving a mute protest. Realizing what was happening, the one-armed warrior tried to grab it back—but he only had one arm.

  "Stop picking on me, you 'broken doll'!" Zeke bellowed between laughs.

  Akari burst out laughing, infecting the whole group. Their joy echoed through the cabin, dissolving old tensions. Gotier looked up at the window, where the full moon reigned over Neversand. A gentle warmth filled his chest: memories of his family, of long-past smiles. Outside, amidst the silvered clouds, Kaien kept his eternal vigil, a faithful guardian of absent friends—thoughts of Soken and Nina came with it. And in that moment, Gotier felt longing and hope intertwine under the moonlight.

  Three hours later, as the clock struck noon, a sharp sound broke the cabin's silence:

  KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

  While everyone else slept, Yuzuki felt the knock on the door. Still seated, wearing only his kimono, he lifted his face from the dark corner where he rested, his eyes already accustomed to the gloom. Without a word, he slid from the chair, stretched, and, before moving forward, pulled back the window curtain: outside, Kaien was nestled among the clouds, sleeping unusually for such an attentive watchman. A shiver ran down his spine—perhaps it was an intruder.

  Yuzuki shrank into the shadows, pulling the kimono's hood over his face and raising a black mask to his nose. A silent precaution: if he tried to detect the visitor's aura, he might give away his own position.

  KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

  The door creaked as he opened it slightly, revealing a cold, clear night, the wind howling through the cracks. Then emerged the small silhouette of a boy just five-foot-seven: disheveled black hair, eyes as pale as porcelain—as if he saw only shadows—and tattered clothes, dirty with road dust.

  "Mr. Yuzuki, may I spend the night here?" the voice sounded sweet, almost a whisper of hope.

  Yuzuki's firm gaze was enough to make the boy bow. A fraction of a second, and that gesture sounded like a thunderclap of respect: the youth knelt at the warrior's feet.

  "No," Yuzuki cut in, firmly. The boy stood up, struggling to regain his posture.

  "Come in, kid... Want some coffee?" he offered, his tone now so calm that the tension dissolved like mist in the breeze.

  The young man's face lit up with a fragile smile. "Yes, Mr. Yuzuki."

  Yuzuki stepped aside and gestured. "My friends are still asleep. They drank too much last night. I'll make the coffee; you take a bath first. The bathroom is the door on the left."

  Perplexity flickered in the boy's eyes. "But, sir, just the coffee would be enough..."

  "Go now," Yuzuki interrupted, warmth in his voice. "Tomorrow we'll buy you new clothes."

  The boy fought to contain the joy rising to his face, restoring a serious expression. "Right, sir."

  As the boy walked away, Yuzuki noticed something: there was no cane, crutch, or any support to explain the condition of those white eyes. Intrigued, he closed the door carefully, letting the silence return—this time, filled with mystery and a pressing curiosity.

  Ten minutes later, Soken reappeared in the kitchen, his bare feet still damp from the bath, and sat in the same chair by the rustic table. Yuzuki had finished brewing the coffee and, without looking up, placed two steaming cups before him. Silence settled, broken only by the whisper of the wind whipping the sunflowers outside and the soft creak of the door closing behind Soken.

  "How did you lose your arm?" the boy asked, innocent curiosity tinging every syllable.

  Yuzuki looked up and fixed him with a stern expression. A pang tightened Soken's chest: *I shouldn't have asked that*, he thought.

  "A golden dragon ate my arm," the warrior replied, his voice firm as steel.

  The boy frowned. "A golden dragon? Are you trying to trick me, Mr. Yuzuki? I'm sure it was Kaien..."

  Yuzuki burst out laughing—loud and genuine—the first of the day. "Ha! Ha! Ha! To say that out loud would be the biggest lie in the world!"

  Soken's laughter joined the thunder of coffee being swallowed, and for a moment the kitchen filled with a kind of joy.

  "How did you meet Kaien?" Yuzuki asked, refilling the cups.

  "We... flew together," Soken said, his eyes shining with the memory. "Since then, I've become his friend, Mr. Yuzuki."

  Yuzuki's gaze lingered on the light foam of his coffee, and in a gentler tone, he asked, "How long have you been blind?"

  "You can call me Soken, sir... since I was born."

  Yuzuki drained the rest of his coffee in one gulp and, rising, let the chair scrape against the wooden floor. Startled, Soken opened his mouth to speak, but Yuzuki was already walking away.

  "Please, sir!" the boy insisted, clasping his hands as if in prayer. "Train me, I beg you! I'll do anything... my life is yours!"

  Yuzuki stopped with his back to the table, not turning around. The curtain fell on Soken's plea, echoing in the kitchen and leaving the boy wavering between fear and hope, as the warrior let the silence speak for them.

  Soken bowed his head, his hands resting on the floor, feeling the weight of his own hope slipping through his fingers. The sound of footsteps on the floorboards made his heart race: Yuzuki was returning, holding a bottle of whiskey. With a dry gesture, the warrior refilled his glass—and, in a subtle move, emptied Soken's coffee to replace it with the bitter drink.

  "Sit down, kid," Yuzuki ordered, placing the glass on the table. "Let's talk like men."

  Soken leaped to his feet, then sat back down in the chair, lacing his fingers as he awaited a miracle. Yuzuki held his glass and, staring into the young man's eyes, asked gruffly, "Why?"

  Soken took a sip and choked on the whiskey's bitterness. A thunderous laugh erupted from Yuzuki, breaking the silence like a storm. "Haahihiiiihaaahee!"

  Soken wiped his lips with the back of his hand, lifted his head, and murmured, "Yuzuki... my wife, Nina, is in danger."

  The laughter died on Yuzuki's face, and the cabin plunged into silence.

  "She has been accused of treason by the Minister," Soken said, his voice choked. "King Falang has no direct heirs; Nina is the natural successor, but she doesn't want the throne. Falang is a puppet... and the people want to overthrow him to install Nina. Neversand has risen up against the tributes and the Leper King's army. I fear we will be the next Salem."

  Yuzuki moistened his dry lips before asking, "What treason?"

  "She saved the Low Quarter, where the Leper King's fugitives took refuge. The leprosy spread among children and adults—even babies fell ill. Nina found an antidote, organized supplies, and kept everyone alive with food and monetary donations."

  Yuzuki's eyes widened, and for the first time in months, a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Interesting..."

  Soken swallowed hard and fixed his gaze on the door, sensing an aura of danger approaching. It was then that Zeke's figure appeared in the doorway, his white hair falling over his shoulders. The warrior stared at Yuzuki, impatience in his expression: "What are you waiting for?"

  At that moment, as the three faced each other, the world outside seemed to hold its breath. The flickering light of the lamp danced in all their eyes—signaling that together they would have to decide not only the fate of Neversand, but also Nina's future.