The world ended in three colors: white, crimson, and blue.
White of the unnatural frost that crawled across Korvath's walls, turning breath to ice in the lungs. Crimson of Valerian banners, waves of steel and blood surging through shattered gates. Blue of Dargath magic—a cold, clinical azure that froze armor to skin and hope to memory.
Kaisei Aoi saw it all from the ramparts.
His sword arm had gone numb hours ago. His once-polished blue commander's armor was dented, slashed, stained with other men's lives. Below, the last of Reflynne's people fled through the southern breach—a river of broken souls flowing toward a hope they could no longer believe in.
A Valerian shock trooper lunged. Kaisei parried on instinct, muscle memory overriding exhaustion. He drove his blade through the man's gorget, felt the crunch, didn't look at the face.
Just buy time. Another minute. Another life.
Beside him, Seiko Nakahara was no longer the composed mayor of Reflynne. She was a storm barely contained. Water magic lashed from her hands, sweeping soldiers off the wall, healing frostbitten children only to watch them freeze again minutes later.
"They're herding us!" she screamed over the wind that tasted of metal and dying magic. "They're not trying to kill us—they're driving us!"
Kaisei knew she was right. The Valerians advanced in perfect, merciless formation. The Dargath priests chanted spells that froze escape routes one after another. The ogres smashed buildings but left the roads clear.
A corridor of slaughter.
A path south.
Toward what?
A horn sounded—three short blasts. The retreat signal.
Kaisei grabbed Seiko's arm. "We go. Now."
"I can still—"
"You'll die. And they'll still march."
Her eyes held his for a heartbeat. The proud leader of a city that no longer existed. Then she nodded, and they ran with the river.
---
The march south was a funeral procession without bodies to bury.
Hours blurred into night of cold and silence. Children stopped crying. Adults walked with the empty eyes of those who had left their souls in the frozen north. They ate what they could scavenge, slept in shifts while others watched for pursuit that never came—the enemy was content to let them run.
Then, on the morning the last of their food ran out, they saw it.
Eldoria.
It rose from the mist like a dream—or a mirage. Warm stone walls. Six glowing blue pillars framing a gate. A dome of gentle light arching over a city that looked... untouched. Whole.
For the first time in weeks, someone wept with something other than despair.
"Sanctuary," Seiko whispered, voice raw.
Kaisei didn't smile. He'd learned that hope was just pain waiting to happen.
---
The gates opened before they reached them.
Six figures stood waiting.
Kaisei recognized them instantly. The sketches in the intelligence reports. The monsters who had watched Ostoria burn.
The Suicidal Division.
At the center stood Masaboru, lounging against the gateframe as if bored by the apocalypse. Zentake flicked a coin in the air, catching it with a sharp snap of his fingers. Gaikotsu stood so still he might have been a statue, his skull-mask tilted at an unnerving angle. Shinjitsu observed them with empty, unblinking eyes. Nogare stood with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. And beside them... Kaito Mugenrei, their old comrade, now standing with the ones who had abandoned them.
Before anyone could speak, a horn sounded in the distance.
The pursuing army had arrived.
Valerian cavalry crested the ridge. Dargath mages raised staffs glowing with frost. Hundreds against six.
Kaisei drew his sword. Seiko summoned water to her hands. The refugees braced for the final stand.
Masaboru sighed, a long, dramatic exhalation. "They never know when to quit."
He raised a single hand toward the army.
Reality twisted.
To Kaisei's eyes, the soldiers simply... stopped. Froze mid-charge. Horses suspended in air. Spells halted in casting. A thousand men turned to statues.
But he saw the Division's faces.
Zentake laughed. "Disco party, Masaboru? Really?"
Masaboru shrugged. "Efficient."
Then Nogare nodded at Shinjitsu.
The silent fighter blurred—no, multiplied. Five identical copies appeared beside Nogare and Zentake. All five copies sprinted forward in perfect synchronization.
Zentake's copies tore through the frozen ranks, weapons and armor vanishing in flashes of violet light. Nogare's forms moved like water, slipping between soldiers. Where they passed, commanders fell—not with dramatic wounds, but with thin red lines across their throats, as if death were an afterthought.
Gaikotsu finally moved. Slowly. Painfully. He knelt by a fallen Dargath warlord, placed a hand on the corpse.
The body twitched.
Stood.
Became a skeleton with glowing blue eyes.
Another corpse rose. Then another. Soon a dozen undead warriors stood at attention.
The entire battle—if it could be called that—lasted ninety seconds.
The Division returned to the gate, not a hair out of place. Kaito wiped a speck of blood from his cheek, looking almost... disappointed.
Masaboru clapped once. "Welcome to Eldoria. Try not to track mud inside."
---
They were not given homes.
They were led to a vast, windowless hall deep in the city's stone belly. Cold seeped from the walls. The only light came from faint blue crystals set too high to reach. No beds. No fires. Just floor space and the smell of damp stone.
"This is temporary," a nervous guild aide whispered. "Until housing is assigned."
But hours passed. And hours.
Skeletons marched in perfect patrols. Not the shambling horrors of necromancer tales—these moved with mechanical precision, carrying swords, shields, lances, bows. They didn't speak. Didn't rest. Just walked their routes, eyes glowing that same eerie blue.
And on a balcony overlooking the square, the Division watched.
Zentake counted coins from a velvet bag. Masaboru leaned on the railing, chin in hand, observing the refugees like specimens in a jar. Shinjitsu stood motionless beside him. Gaikotsu sat cross-legged, head drooping as if asleep. Nogare spoke quietly with a man in guild colors.
Kaito... Kaito looked down at the hall once, met Kaisei's eyes for a second, then turned away.
"They're enjoying this," Seiko murmured, her back against the cold wall. "They have the power to give us proper shelter. To ease this. They choose not to."
Kaisei said nothing. His hand tightened on his sword hilt.
---
On the next day, a man with too-bright eyes entered the hall.
He wore clean, crisp robes that seemed out of place among the grime and exhaustion. His smile was wide, practiced, and didn't reach his eyes.
"Good morning! Good morning!" he called out, clapping his hands together. The sound echoed in the stone chamber. "My name is Shiranai! Appointed speaker for the Pillars!"
No one moved. No one spoke. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic marching of skeleton feet.
"Eldoria operates on a beautiful principle!" Shiranai continued, his smile unwavering. "Strength sustains! Weakness drains! Simple, yes? Fair!"
He clasped his hands together, as if sharing a delightful secret.
"To celebrate your arrival, we're hosting the Grand Ascension Tournament! All may enter! All may prove their worth!"
A low murmur rippled through the hall.
"The strong will rise to positions of honor! The weak..." Shiranai's smile became apologetic, but his eyes remained bright. "...will find other roles! Supporting roles! Equally important in their own way!"
He spread his arms wide.
"In Eldoria, everything is watched! Everything is measured! Your safety is guaranteed! Your future is whatever you make of it!"
"I'm entering," Seiko said without looking up.
"You're a leader, not a gladiator."
"I was a leader of a city that no longer exists." Her eyes lifted, hard as the stone around them. "Here, there are only two kinds of people: those who make the rules, and those who live under them."
"We survived the end of the world," he murmured. "Only to be sorted like livestock."
"On behalf of the Pillars," Shiranai announced, voice cheerful as a festival crier, "I welcome you to Eldoria! Where order reigns! Where safety is guaranteed! Where every life has purpose under the watchful eyes of our benevolent directors!"
His smile never wavered, even as a child began to cry.
---
[SCENE END]
IN ELDORIA, SANCTUARY HAS A PRICE. AND EVERYONE PAYS.