"You will have to go and meet the girl in the red hood. Carmen."
Those were Obed's words.
The girl in the red hood—the one who had carried out the attack against Mage Ord. Ozu's final act of loyalty toward the man he had once worshipped as a god had ended in the brutal murder of his family… and in his own death.
Ozu did not feel safe accepting that request.
Obed's invitation had been direct, almost casual, yet that did nothing to calm the unease twisting in his chest. Seeking out that girl—who, when they had crossed blades, had seemed little more than an adolescent—made his stomach churn.
The three of them left the lagoon behind, abandoning the ruins of an ancient building gnawed away by time.
Ozu let out a long breath as he looked at the unfamiliar façade. One of his greatest fears had been waking up amid the ruins of his own home. Somehow, being somewhere else brought him a bitter sense of relief; the absence of that place left a strange hollow in his chest, but at least he did not have to face it yet.
That was when Obed stopped.
She carefully examined their little group: a witch green as a lemon, a scarecrow dressed in tattered clothes, and a rabbit. They would not go unnoticed in the city.
She raised her hand and snapped her fingers.
The change was subtle… and unsettling.
The green tint of her skin faded like smoke, revealing a pale, elegant human complexion. The veil vanished. The black leather transformed into simple, dark clothing—discreet, save for an elegantly open neckline, a silent provocation to any brave soul daring enough to look.
Lord George was next.
His straw body contracted and reshaped itself. Dry texture gave way to smooth, living skin. His clothes became new and modest, befitting a merchant or common traveler. Only his old straw hat remained as a trace of what he once was.
Ozu stared in awe at the display of magic.
Without a word, Obed crouched before him and took the pocket watch. She slipped it around the rabbit's thin neck. It felt heavier than he remembered, but reclaiming his watch brought him an overwhelming sense of calm.
Then it happened.
Ozu's body began to change.
It stretched.
The world seemed to rise around him.
When he looked at his hands, they were no longer furry paws, but small, human fingers—childlike. Obed held up a metallic surface before him, and his reflection appeared clearly: a short, slender boy with grayish hair and intense red eyes that contrasted unsettlingly with his youthful face.
"This… is this really me?" he asked distractedly, almost to the air.
"Don't you like it?" Obed replied. "I can make some adjustments, but with your magical capacity, don't expect to change your age."
"No, I like it," he admitted. "Can I… stay like this?"
The natural sound of his human voice surprised him.
Obed shook her head.
"Only while you're by my side," she said. "At least for now. When all my blessings have been invoked, you'll even be able to return to the great general you once were."
"And much more," Lord George added.
Ozu nodded. He was not entirely at ease, but the promise of reclaiming his own body gave him a flicker of hope.
They moved through the ruins of the city.
A place Ozu did not recognize—and that deeply unsettled him. Since his training, he had crossed the kingdom of Ord tirelessly. Failing to recognize anything around him was disorienting.
Then he saw the road.
Yellow bricks.
The central path to the Grand Market.
He had walked it countless times. It used to be vibrant, filled with laughter, music, children running between stalls, young couples sharing sweet moments, soldiers resting between shifts. The Mage's artifacts had illuminated every corner with their signature emerald glow.
That was gone.
The market was dark, filthy, soulless.
The structures were still there, but neglected, corroded by time and vandalism. Magical lights flickered weakly or did not work at all. The emerald glow barely pierced the gloom, lending the place a dangerous air.
There were no joyful faces.
Only eyes that looked nearly dead.
After only a few steps, several figures approached them. Vendors, beggars… or thieves. Hands reached out in supplication, voices murmured offers, veiled threats, desperate pleas that sent a chill through Ozu.
Obed remained calm, wearing an almost angelic smile.
Ozu tried to step in front of her, but Lord George stopped him with a gentle yet firm hand.
"No," he whispered. "Watch."
Obed stepped forward.
She knelt.
Without saying a word.
She let emerald coins fall to the ground—small, flat discs shaped like turtle shells, the symbol of the Mage's monetary system.
The reaction was immediate.
Some dropped to their knees to gather them. Others left small offerings in exchange for the "miracle." Some simply took the coins and walked away without looking back.
The coins vanished as quickly as they appeared.
After a few minutes, the path cleared. The market was still dead, but at least it felt calmer.
"What happened here?" Ozu asked in disbelief.
Obed did not stop walking.
"The civil war," she replied. "The day you died, insecurity exploded, General."
The knot in Ozu's stomach tightened.
"The Emerald Forces began to doubt the Mage's word," she continued. "They questioned whether you were truly a traitor. That doubt reached Ord."
George spoke as a shiver ran down Ozu's spine.
"The Mage responded as he always does: hunt, purge, reeducate… and if that didn't work, you know the rest."
"That only made things worse," Obed added. "People defended themselves. Hid. Organized. And then the rebellion howled."
"Carmen…?" Ozu asked.
Obed nodded.
"I doubt you need an introduction. She began gathering the dissatisfied, the forgotten. The insurrection was started by Dory, before she was forced to return home… though I warned her not to play with fire."
"Dory is involved in all this?" Ozu asked.
"Are you joking?" George replied. "She and the commander founded the Ferocious Wolves."
Ozu's chest burned.
"A rebellion… because of me?"
"Not exactly," Obed said. "You were only the spark."
"Without Obed, the revolt would have been crushed in days," George added.
"I only gave them a place to operate," she replied. "The rest was their merit."
Then a shadow blocked their path.
A tall man.
Too tall.
His red hair fell like blood over his shoulders. His musculature was so prominent that his armor barely covered what was necessary. On his breastplate, a black lion with open jaws spread across the rest of his gear.
He approached Obed boldly.
"I haven't seen you around before," he said, wearing a crooked, resentful smile.
George tightened his grip on his sword.
Ozu tensed his small body.
Obed sighed, disappointed.
"Are you really going to play dumb, Sir Sergi?" she said. "The lion without valor."