Chapter 88 — Signs from Outside the Village
S.C. 1510 — Mid January
Foosha Village — Forest Edge
Ren walked along the quiet forest edge with his satchel slung over one shoulder.
Zemo trotted beside him, humming his usual fox-song (a mix between chirping and judging).
Today was not a research day.
Not an alloy day.
Not a "let's accidentally discover something terrifying" day.
Today was just… a walk.
A mental reset.
Ren had been buried in smelting, digging, and avoiding accidental lab explosions for days.
He needed fresh air.
But Zemo stopped him.
Not with his predator-growl.
Not with fear.
But with a soft, curious whine—the kind he only made when he sensed something out of place.
Ren blinked.
"…Near the village? Not inside the forest?"
Zemo turned his head sharply toward the old dirt road.
Ren sighed.
"Alright, lead the way."
Zemo didn't wait—he marched like a tiny furry general.
---
Footprints on the Road
The dirt road that connected Foosha Village to Goa Kingdom was usually empty.
Merchants came rarely, and villagers stuck to the simpler forest paths.
But today?
Ren frowned the moment he saw the ground.
The road was covered in footprints.
Deep ones.
Scattered ones.
Overlapping ones.
Not the steady, confident pace of travelers.
These were the footsteps of people running from something.
Ren knelt and touched the dirt.
"…These are fresh. Very fresh."
Zemo sniffed the prints, then looked at Ren with a concerned whine.
Ren nodded.
"Yeah. Something's off."
---
A Broken Wagon Wheel
A little farther ahead, Ren spotted something shaped wrong in the grass.
"…a wheel?"
He picked it up.
It was the remains of a wagon wheel—splintered wood, bent iron rim.
Destroyed, not worn.
Ren tilted it toward the sunlight.
A marking caught his eye.
Scratched faintly into the surface were two letters:
GT
Ren's stomach dropped.
"…Gray Terminal."
Zemo pawed the wood lightly, sensing Ren's shift in mood.
People from Gray Terminal rarely left their area unless something terrible pushed them out.
This?
This was a bad sign.
---
Dust in the Air
Ren lifted his head.
A faint smell drifted on the wind.
Not forest fire.
Not cooking.
Not smoke from homes.
This was…
ashy.
dry.
heavy.
Ren whispered:
"…They're burning trash again."
Gray Terminal didn't have "clean-ups."
The nobles simply lit massive trash piles on fire—sometimes with people still inside.
Ren felt his chest tighten.
This wasn't supposed to happen yet.
Not in this year.
The timeline was accelerating.
Faster than he'd planned for.
Zemo nudged Ren's leg with his nose, concern in his golden eyes.
Ren murmured:
"I'm not strong enough to help them yet. I can't even show myself near Gray Terminal without being noticed…"
Frustration twisted inside him.
He wanted to help.
He hated seeing suffering.
But right now?
He was powerless.
---
A Dropped Cloth Bag
They walked a bit further.
Zemo's ears perked, and he darted toward a lump near a fallen log.
Ren followed—and found a small cloth bag, half-buried under leaves.
He opened it carefully.
Inside were:
a handful of moldy berries
a rusted metal cup
two broken utensils
a torn piece of thick cloth
Survival scraps.
Things someone desperately clung to— and then lost while running.
Ren closed the bag slowly.
"…They fled fast."
Zemo pressed his head against Ren's hand, trying to comfort him.
The forest around them was quiet.
Too quiet.
---
Returning Home — A Heavier Heart
As they walked back toward Foosha, Ren's thoughts spun like gears.
The signs were clear:
refugees moving
Gray Terminal supplies abandoned
burning smoke from Goa
panic footprints on the road
people suffering earlier than expected
Ren exhaled deeply.
"The world outside is already changing… faster than it should."
Zemo barked softly, staying close to his side all the way back.
Ren reached the edge of Foosha and looked toward his hidden underground entrance.
He whispered:
"I need to accelerate everything.
The island base.
The merchant group.
The network in Gray Terminal.
All of it."
Zemo nodded in solemn agreement.
Ren tightened his grip on the satchel.
He didn't have strength yet.
He didn't have combat ability.
He didn't have influence.
But he had knowledge.
Patience.
A growing mind sharper than the alloys he forged.
And someday soon—
he would have power.
Enough to protect.
Enough to help.
Enough to make a difference.
For now?
Preparation was everything.
Ren descended into the underground lab with determination burning silently in his eyes.
The world was changing.
And he would not be left behind.
---
End of Chapter 88