At Lomm’s declaration, the travelling party stopped as if turned to stone. A light wind that smelled of sunshine blew by. Some leaves detached from their places amongst the dense woods and fell in a distorted circle around them. Only faint rustling sounds could be heard for a moment.

  Camelia’s burning familiars flickered, dissipating. “A blacksmith? It?” That was all she could say.

  Even if she didn’t realize it, the girl had managed to surprise even a witch, one of the wisest beings she’d ever known in her life. She certainly felt a tad prideful deep down. “Mhm!” She nodded forcibly, standing near the giant to show its peaceful nature.

  “Does it… speak?” Ma’at asked tentatively.

  Lomm did not answer, instead looking up at the rock golem’s features that resembled a face.

  “Fulgur… will not harm.” Words came from its mouth in gravely, almost grating tones. It literally sounded like someone speaking through the sounds of falling rocks. “Fulgur… friend.”

  “Amazing,” Camelia said, her voice almost in a whisper. “I’ve never met an intelligent elemental, at least not one capable of human language.”

  “Yep. Fulgur’s real smart. He’s known my parents for about a decade. He used to make all kinds of things for them.” She pushed up her glasses, admiring the levin-lined creature.

  “Only in the Greatwoods…” Tien relaxed, looking Fulgur up and down. It truly was just an animated humanlike figure made of rocks and energy, yet it seemed fully sentient. It was a marvel of natural magic.

  Once things calmed down, they moved over to a large, burnt-out fire pit sitting just outside the oversized cabin. A massive set of doors like a cellar door made up most of the back side of the house, obviously made for the giant. They were wide open, revealing a quaint workshop and smithy. Superheated coals burned brightly beneath metal, and a thick, imposing anvil sat in the middle. It was obviously worn, used nearly every day by the blacksmith. Its edges were pressed and nicked by countless blades laid across it in the past. Smoke billowing out from the coals and the furnace collected in the chimney, spiraling upward into the clear blue sky in a wispy line.

  “As much as I’d like to ask you countless questions, we don’t have all the time in the world.” Tien heaved a disappointed sigh at her own remark, gazing down at her pocketwatch. “What exactly is the trouble you’re facing, and how can we help?”

  “Swordsman… thief. Stole levinshards.” The hulking amalgamation of stone lumbered over to a truck-sized chest and placed his hands on it. Crackling electricity the color of wisteria began enveloping him, finally releasing into the container. It seemed it was the elemental’s ‘key’ to unlock it. The gigantic chest popped open with a loud bang, as if he’d just swung open a dumpster. A few lightning-infused shards, translucent and reverberating, made up its contents, but it was clear that some were missing.

  “Levinshards, you say?” Camelia crossed her arms and tapped her forearm in a steady rhythm. “Are they an energy source native to this land?”

  Fulgur made a gruff noise in confirmation. “Rare storms… charge rocks. Used for smithing.”

  Everyone besides Camelia was taken aback by the mention of a swordsman rather than the items stolen.

  “What kind of swordsman?” Sato asked, frowning.

  “He said in his message to me that it was someone from the east. Their sword was unlike most made in this region,” Lomm recalled the golem’s written word.

  “Hold on, he can write? Why don’t we communicate that way then? Would be much clearer and a whole lot faster.”

  “Be nice, Tien. Seems he wants to speak rather than write. …Mister Fulgur, did you speak to this man?” Sato addressed the elemental as if he were just another human.

  “Fulgur… did not. Swordsman too fast.”

  “Do you have any idea where we’d find him or where to look?” Ma’at was raring to fight and finish the job if it meant her prized blades could finally be reforged.

  The elemental nodded, his sparking sockets glowing brightly. It seemed he not only desired the magical ore back for his occupation, but also that he had a connection to them. Perhaps they were something akin to family members, something precious, something adjacent to his own existence that he’d like to keep safe and secure.

  Lomm looked up to him, then nodded in understanding. “I’ll go get a map. Fulgur can mark it for us, and I can be our guide again. O-Only if y-you’d want me to come along, of course.” Even in the Greatwoods, the girl stuttered as if shivering from the cold. Maybe it wasn’t simply her nerves getting the better of her, but also a side-effect from her magic.

  Ma’at presumed as such, though there wasn’t much of a basis for it. Sato never seemed to sulk or become depressed from tapping too much into her Paracosm, though at times it did cause her an exhaustion that made her also a bit gloomy. But that could be chalked up to her attempting to fight without the energy to do so. It was an interesting topic Tien seldom had the time to elaborate on.

  “If we help you with this, you can fix these, correct?” Ma’at lifted up the shattered remnants of her weapons for the blacksmith to take and inspect.

  The energy in his eyes crackled as if widening in surprise. “Noctite… very damaged. Will be… different. Will substitute new ore.”

  “So… they’ll be weaker?” A shadow seemed to darken her features. She hoped otherwise.

  “No… not weaker. Different. Less… pure. Less stable, but stronger.”

  “Alright. I’ll trust you with them. For all our luck, there’s probably not another blacksmith within a hundred miles. Ah, but could I borrow a sword or two in the meantime? I’ll take care of them as if they were my own.” Her fierce features told no lie.

  Fulgur nodded, his body creaking and cracking. He moved into his cabin, laid Ma’at’s blades down in preparation for their reconstruction, then returned with two standard short swords for her to borrow.

  She swung them in an erratic dance, her signature sword style. With her telekinetic powers tied to her old blades, her normal sword skills had grown rusty.

  “S-Seems he headed deeper into the woods.” Lomm spoke up from behind the big parchment map the giant had marked.

  “Then he couldn’t have gone far. We should get a move on.”

  With that, they bid the working goliath adieu and trekked onward into the unfolding wilds. Sato’s chirps and gasps at the various animals they spotted as they walked truly put it into perspective just how little time she’d spent outside the city’s confines.

  “Worried?” the entrancing Witch of Warmth asked Ma’at as they walked.

  “Not exactly. I was just thinking how Orion would react. If I ever see him again, you know the first thing he’d ask would be who defiled his work.” She chuckled.

  Camelia rolled her eyes. “Please… He barely had anything to do with their creation in the first place. He simply welded together tethering gems and standard-issue Cerberus blades. Though, it is true to do that alone takes a true craftsman’s skill, but I digress.”

  “Ah.” Sato made a sudden noise that made everyone present feel as though they had forgotten something incredibly important.

  “What is it?” Tien turned to look at her raincoat-wearing comrade.

  “I just realized… couldn’t you have just repaired Ma’at’s blades with that Hammer of Whatever?”

  “Hammer of Reparation. And yes, that was a possibility. But if you remember… it only repairs objects temporarily, like the boat we used to cross the Lake of Deceit. Even if you wanted to fix them just for this,” she turned to Ma’at, “Fulgur wouldn’t be able to work on them in the meantime.”

  “Hmph. Either way, this was the better option. Good to know.”

  “It was a worthwhile thought, though. Use your head like that more often and we’ll be swimming in contracts.” Tien gave Sato a sly smile.

  The Maiden stuck out her tongue just as Tien turned her back. “Well, sorry that I’m not a brainiac like you. It’s not my fault that brute force tactics seem to solve the majority of our problems.” She crossed her arms and pouted slightly, hanging her head high in some dignified manner only she could understand.

  Camelia giggled from the sidelines. “You two get along so well. You’ve known each other a long while, hm?”

  “Some days. Other days she treats me like a little kid.”

  “Because, Sato, when it comes to complex ideas or worldly matters, you are a child.” Tien shook her head, her hands in her pockets as she calmly strode at the head of the pack. “To answer your question, yes, quite a while. I met her when we were both new hires at another Iteration. That was about…”

  “Four years ago,” the Maiden finished her thought.

  Tien nodded.

  “It must have been a very different corporation then.”

  “Mm… kind of. We didn’t quite have a well-defined purpose then, just another mercenary group. But then Enigmas started sprouting up everywhere, and the higher-ups decided that’s what they wanted to focus on. It was an extremely… chaotic time.”

  “Chaotic… though it must have felt as though the world had gone through a great change. It must have been quite the exciting venture as well I’d imagine.”

  Tien nodded again. “True. It was a scary yet exciting time to be sure. After the Advent… it felt like anything could happen. Of course, wrathcursed individuals existed before all that, but they were much more violent and unstable. Enigmas… as far as we’ve reasearched… have a much more stable, almost resolute identity. They are capable of just as much destruction, but it’s by their own wishes. Not the influence of any lingering magic or by the decree of some hidden god.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ma’at pondered. It was fascinating how Tien could sum up her thoughts on the creatures so succinctly. “You’re right. All of the ones we’ve encountered so far have been aware of their actions to some extent. It’s a slight difference, but an important one.”

  “Stop…!” Sato shouted in a hushed tone suddenly. “Up ahead.”

  “What? Another deer?” Tien questioned her, already exhausted by her hijinks. “If you’re fascinated by animals so much, we might as well-” She stopped her own train of thought, her eyes forward.

  “Lights…”

  “Not just any lights,” the witch commented. She pointed at the swirling bioluminescence. “See those odd, pointy appendages?”

  “Are they… wings?” Tien inquired.

  “Yes. I believe they are pixies.”

  The creatures that would normally come to mind upon hearing such a name would be woodland sprites, perhaps tiny women with gorgeous, sparkling wings. However, that was not the case. The creatures they saw were not akin to fairies. They resembled black orbs and their wings were like devil horns. Spiraling, dizzying symbols and shapes made up their fronts. They were eyes. Singular eyes as dark as their bodies. As Sato had spotted, each emitted a faint glow, faint lights featuring a myriad of hues.

  “Are they intelligent, like the elemental?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll go talk to them!” Sato volunteered herself with spastic glee, running up to the oddities without fear.

  The others tried to stop her, but it was too late. She neared the swarm of archaic, winged billiard balls and stood before them. As they approached, they emitted various melodic tones.

  “Hello~ I’m Sato.” As per usual, the Maiden’s excitement had subsequently pushed aside all logical thought and reasoning. She didn’t have a care in the world.

  “A3g44oNmi998nyjl.”

  “Huh?”

  “7YuSoM450031gigU6931724.”

  “I, uh… I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

  The pixies all turned on a dime to look at one another. Though they did have wings, they rarely moved them. They hovered more than flew. Pleasant hums rang out from the entities. They seemed to be communicating.

  “Sato…! Get away from them.”

  “Hold on, Ma’at. I think they’re talking.”

  Eerily, all at once, the pixies quickly turned back to gaze upon the Maiden.

  “If you don’t mind me asking… wh-what is she doing?” Lomm asked them, still holding the map.

  Tien sighed. “I have no idea.”

  “Have you seen a swordsman around here, maybe? If so, could you tell us if we’re on the right track?” Sato tried to reason with them, hoping that her words made some sense to the abnormal fauna.

  “xcUI87koln902221yunda12.”

  “88yil7.”

  “DT43303rUt1.”

  “Swordsman,” Ma’at relayed, showing off one of her blades to the cluster. She then pointed it down the path to where the map had been leading them.

  “i71SW?” A melodic beep from one of them seemed to be asking a question.

  “55jkl.” Another responded with a low hum.

  They looked at Ma’at and Sato again and again, back and forth for a time. Finally, they released a multitude of chirps and chimes, then turned and floated off deeper into the forest.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Seems like the same way we are,” Ma’at replied. “Let’s follow them.”

  They chased the orbicular bats through the lush woods until they came to a wide clearing. The blue sky and unwavering sunlight drenched the open, grassy field in waves of nostalgic warmth. In the center stood a gruff yet attractive man with light stubble for a beard and his hair in an eastern-style ponytail. He wore an off-white robe with blue symbols draped across it, and his hair was a dark purple shade that reminded one of radiating moonlight on a cloudless night.

  Accompanying the sight was a light oaken chair he sat upon with a tall easel in front of him. He seemed to be putting the finishing touches on an art piece he’d been working on for quite some time. A long brush hung from his angled fingertips, its tip dipped in viridescent paint.

  The elusive pixies scattered about as the others came upon the picturesque plain. Some floated wayward and back into the shadows created by the surrounding canopy, while others seemed panicked and wandered into the artist’s personal space. Though he did not seem to show any outward annoyance at the interruption, he had entered a deep, deep focus and remained perfectly still. Whether or not the focus was directed toward creative thoughts in his mind or a slumbering bloodlust that had yet to be unleashed was a total mystery.

  “Is that…?” Ma’at couldn’t finish her sentence. The silence was deafening.

  “...No, Umbra. They have wandered into a realm they do not belong. Yokai would not forgive human stowaways for intruding upon their sacred world, so why should I?”

  “He’s talking to himself…” Sato gripped her umbrella firmly.

  Without a sound, the man slowly set down his paintbrush and got up from the chair. His back was to them, though it was clear there was no one else he could have been speaking to. He was alone with nothing for company but the bumbling, mewing pixies wandering without reason.

  “They are sprites, my love. Forest spirits. They can will themselves back to life another time. I must not have distractions.”

  “On his hip,” Ma’at whispered. “He’s armed. This must be the swordsman.”

  She was correct. Hanging from his waist at his side was a sheathed blade double the length of one of Ma’at’s own. The sheath and the blade alone were nothing short of astounding; masterworks and masterpieces both. The sheath was onyx black and dotted with what appeared to be an artist’s recreation of sakura petals falling against the backdrop of a starry void. She didn’t have long to appreciate it, however, as the man drew his right arm across his body and gripped the blade’s hilt, readying to draw it at a moment’s notice.

  He took a deep, clear breath, as clear as the skies above. “First Brushstroke: Falling Petals Across a Crescent Moon.”

  Ma’at blinked rapidly. Her eyes dotted from left to right. The man was gone in a flash as soon as he spoke those words; not a trace remained of the easterner. At least, until she caught up with the flashing strikes and iridescent shimmer.

  A formless shadow, a smudged figure on the lens materialized and dematerialized rapidly and instantaneously across the field in bursts of beautiful slashes. Pink, azure and silver lines coalesced and caressed all of the clumsy pixies in the area. It felt as though it had all happened at the same exact time.

  In a haze of sweet-scented wind, the swordsman reappeared at his easel, the artist returned to his work, and all of the buzzing creatures fell to the floor in wispy pieces. Odd, discordious melodies rang out at different volumes as the creatures succumbed to their wounds all at once and were returned to the swelling earth below their feet.

  “The pixies… they’re all gone…!”

  “What miraculous swordsmanship,” Camelia said, wide-eyed. “To eliminate the entire swarm in but an instant… What a terrifying man.”

  “And we’re about to make him our enemy,” Ma’at replied unceremoniously.

  Tien pinched her chin in thought. “We don’t have to. There’s still a chance we can negotiate. Maybe he’ll trade the levinshards for something in my possession.”

  “I doubt it,” the Sirithisian replied gloomily. Her fierce features rarely showed fear, but a hint of the emotion did appear. Even to a seasoned veteran such as herself, the sheer honed savagery the swordsman displayed was next to inhuman. “He wouldn’t have stolen them if he didn’t need them for a specific reason. We’d have to trade him something that is similar enough to where he could still achieve whatever he desires.”

  “Well, then there’s no knowing without asking.” Sato began walking out from cover and into the swordsman’s area of influence.

  “S-Sato!” Lomm squeaked.

  “Hold on, dummy! We have to-” Tien tried to call her back but to no avail. Sooner than she had tried to save her friend, she gave up and grumbled to herself. “Idiot…”

  “Come on. We can’t let her go out there alone.” The Sirithisian led the pack out in plain view.

  “Hello~ I’m Sato.” The Maiden tried to remain cordial, though of course, just in case, she gripped her weapon even tighter than before. In the event of a battle, she’d barely have any time to react.

  The man did not answer her nor did he turn to face her. He simply held his left index finger out in order to tell her to wait while he finished the next addition to his painting.

  The Maiden scanned his back. There was something off about the swordsman ever since she had laid eyes on him. There was a wavering, ghostly light or perhaps absence of light that hung from his shoulders like a cape. She surmised that, like with the empathic light Grin had given off, it was a mirage only she could perceive.

  “...Mhm. Yes, I had sensed them some time ago. Ah, those. It’s very possible that’s the case.”

  “Hi! Are you talking to me?” Sato reflexively responded like a small child.

  The robed swordsman sighed heavily. “I don’t dare look at her, no. I can bet she will be made up of strange, incongruent words. I should have known from today’s sky. The clouds. The sky was full of anxious words at dawn.”

  “Hello~ I’m talking to you, pal!”

  A vein bulged in the man’s neck and he abruptly ceased painting. He set his brush down in the exact same way as the previous time, then he let out yet another pained sigh and got up from his chair. “If you do not stop pestering me, I shall rend you into a thousand pieces.”

  Sato went silent for a moment, a rock forming in her throat. She swallowed dryly. “I was just wondering… if you know anything about some levinshards being stolen. And if you do, we might be able to trade you for something else!” She gave his featureless back a pure, genuine smile.

  Finally, the man turned around to face them. His narrow eyes were dark and serene. His eyelashes almost seemed like blades themselves. He regarded the Maiden coolly; it was as if she wasn’t even there. He stared through her to the others, though he didn’t see any of them as a real threat.

  Sato gasped as she remembered his face. “Y-Yuki!? What are you doing here?”

  “You know him?” Ma’at asked, disbelief plain on her face.

  “Not really, no. I met him once or twice at another Iteration back when. But then he deserted…” Realizing something, she turned to scan Tien’s visage. “Don’t tell me… this is why we’re here?”

  Tien ignored Sato and instead spoke directly to the subject in question. “This isn’t an arrest. I was asked to track down a known deserter who’d been seen in the area, that’s all.” It seemed, unlike Sato, Tien had never met the swordsman personally. She did not treat him any differently to a stranger on the street.

  The perplexing artist closed his eyes and spoke to himself again, almost as if he were reciting a magical hymn. “I don’t. They can’t leave me be…” He opened them again, regarding Tien with a hardened, almost murderous glare. “Is this about my blade…?” He rested his hand on the immaculate sheath.

  Taken aback, Tien opened her mouth, perhaps in protest, then blinked and relaxed as though she had decided to take a different route. “To tell you the truth, yes. I can’t tell you why, but Vroque indeed desires the Unmeikatana for some purpose beyond my knowledge.”

  “Tell your masters that I am not swayed by petty threats, and I will not participate in their wretched schemes. Such half-hearted plots only lead to war. Unfortunately for your gluttonous company, I am a free-spirited wanderer in search of eternal peace at my bride’s side.”

  “Why does a ‘free-spirited wanderer’ need to steal valuable ore?” Ma’at accused.

  Yuki directed his fathomless contempt at the Sirithisian. He was perfectly calm in the moment, but there was an obvious lingering hatred for everything Vroque stood for firmly entrenched in his heart. “I see no reason to explain myself. Leave me be, or I’ll make quick work of you. …I’m an artist, you see. I can’t help but leave my mark on the world in any way possible, be it rendering this beautiful landscape through a colored canvas or culling annoyances impeding my focus on the former.”

  An awkward stillness hung in the air. That same sweet-smelling wind blew through the ancient trees, blowing the swordsman’s tied-back hair eastward, toward his and Sato’s shared homeland.

  “Who is she?” the Maiden asked suddenly.

  Yuki remained silent. One could almost mistake him for the surrounding flora if not for the intense, raw emotions swirling in his soul.

  “She’s clinging to your back. One of you couldn’t let go of the other. Was it you, or her?”

  He gripped the hilt of his blade a second time. One flash of pinkish light, of those silvery petals, and their fates would be sealed. “What kind of question is that, Maiden of the Rain? It takes two to cultivate love. Both. It was obviously both of us.”

  Shing!

  And the very action they had dreaded, the unsheathing of the artist’s relic, had occurred. The blade shone, and with it, a silver flash and rosy, flittering petals.