— KUBATO —
A lock clicked loudly.
Kubato jolted awake and saw a strange man standing behind the barred prison door.
The cell itself was small, cold, and deeply uncomfortable. She could barely remember how she had been brought here. The only thing she recalled was someone pulling a sack over her head—then everything went black.
"It's time," the man said.
Kubato trembled violently. She didn't know what was going to happen.
Why? I don't want this! What do they want? I'm scared! Grandpa! Akumu!
The door opened, and the man—dressed in a dark green uniform—stepped inside.
"The execution will take place shortly."
He didn't seem cruel. Just indifferent. As if her fate meant nothing to him.
Fear gripped her chest. More than anything, she wished Akumu were here.
But the last thing she remembered… was his head exploding right beside her.
But… was he really dead?
He was… Death itself, wasn't he?
Roughly, the man grabbed the child by the wrist and dragged her along, as if she were nothing more than a tool.
Kubato trembled so badly her feet could barely touch the ground. Her legs felt like water. She sobbed quietly.
"Akumu…"
I don't want to die! Mom! Dad! Grandpa!!
The man's footsteps echoed mercilessly through the dark corridor. Dim lights—still powered by electricity—hung from the ceiling, but only made the hallway feel darker. The air smelled of rust and damp earth. Somewhere, water dripped, each drop striking like a ticking clock, counting down to her death.
At last, they stopped in front of a massive iron double door.
Kubato breathed nervously. His grip tightened, almost painful. She wanted to resist—but it felt pointless. Her wolf ears trembled. So did her tail.
"My daughter is about your age," the man said suddenly, without looking at her.
What…?
For a moment, he stopped. Didn't move.
Was he hesitating?
Then he opened the door.
Blinding light flooded in.
Kubato squinted, her eyes burning as she adjusted. Above her stretched a cloud-covered sky, as if even the heavens were mourning.
Her ears twitched violently as she heard it—voices. A crowd. Shouting. Judgment. Hatred.
Grandpa… I'm scared…
Ahead of her, a wooden staircase led up to a raised platform. The man climbed it in silence. Kubato followed unwillingly, stumbling several times—but he held her firmly, never letting her fall.
To her left, the view opened to hundreds of people. They stood in what seemed to be the heart of the city. Beyond them were houses, marketplaces, streets—clearly visible from above.
Akumu… please… are you really… dead?
With every step, her hope faded further.
He was… gone.
To her right stood a tall wall of ancient stone, blocking any chance of escape.
When they finally reached the platform, she saw Marcel and Margarita kneeling in chains, facing the crowd. Two other men knelt beside them—strangers.
"Kubato!" Marcel and Margarita cried out.
For a brief moment, hope flickered in her heart—then reality crushed it.
"I'm sorry," Marcel sobbed. "I'm so sorry… I wish… I could have done more…"
Like a lifeless object, the man placed Kubato beside them, shackled her, and forced her to her knees. Then he turned and left, abandoning the family to their fate.
Kubato wanted to cry—but her tears, like her hope, had run dry.
It's over… but I want… to live…
"Kubato," Margarita sobbed. "We love you!"
"Yes—we love you!" Marcel cried.
Her chest felt unbearably heavy. Kubato sobbed—without tears.
"Stop it!" the chained man next to Margarita screamed.
"You emotional bastards! I'm human! I don't want to be executed!"
He struggled wildly, chains rattling louder and louder.
A uniformed man approached from behind, raised his pistol—and shot him in front of everyone.
Silence.
The body remained kneeling, blood flowing onto the platform.
Stillness.
But inside Kubato, a scream tore through her soul.
I don't want to die!
Then the crowd erupted in cheers.
"Yes! Kill the rapist!"
Shouts hurled across the square.
Will they shout at me like that too…?
Another man walked up the same path Kubato had taken. When the crowd recognized his red armor, they fell silent.
Beside him trudged the man whose nose Akumu had broken earlier. He looked small.
Pathetic.
The man in red armor stood tall, acknowledging the applause.
Who… is that?
His mere presence terrified Kubato. She trembled more than ever.
"Child," the red-armored man said calmly.
There was pity in his eyes.
"I have nothing against you. But you were unfortunate enough to be born a beastkin."
Kubato didn't know how to respond.
His indifference frightened her more than the hateful man with the broken nose.
He turned to the crowd.
"Citizens of Straßn!" he called loudly.
"Today's execution will be carried out by my hand. Two rapist—"
He glanced at the corpse.
"Correction. One rapist, two heretics, and one beastkin will be executed."
At the word beastkin, the crowd roared louder.
The hatred slammed into Kubato like a physical force.
Why…? I haven't done anything… What did I do wrong?
Tears streamed down her cheeks as the executioner turned toward her and drew his sword.
"We'll start with the beastkin," he declared, stepping closer.
Kubato's heart pounded wildly. She lay before him like prey—unable to resist. She vaguely noticed Marcel and Margarita trying to speak, but the blood rushing through her wolf ears drowned everything out.
The man raised his sword.
"Don't take it personally," he whispered, then swung.
Kubato squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for death.
For the end.
For the brief, final pain.
Everything went silent.
Akumu…
Then—
Clang!
A sharp metallic crash echoed across the square.
Kubato's eyes flew open.
An arm emerged from her shadow.
Black. Wrapped in stitched straps.
Its hand gripped a sword.
She turned—and saw a pale face.
Akumu.
Her heart surged with joy. Hope flooded back into her chest.
"Found you," he grinned at her, standing firm against the stunned executioner.