The night was still, heavy with unease. A silver light once bathed the village in calm, but now the moon hung overhead—red as blood. Its crimson glow spread across the rooftops like a warning.

  In the Kingdom of VanCrad, the elders spoke of this omen.

  The Red Moon.

  A cursed sky said to mark the return of demonkind. A sign that war would soon follow. Each time it rose in ancient records, tragedy followed. Now, after centuries of silence, it had returned.

  And with it, something stirred in the air.

  A chill that no fire could chase.

  A silence that no words could break.

  As the villagers lit their lanterns and whispered prayers, Ichijo Yuki stood atop the training hall roof, staring at the sky—his thoughts heavy, his grip on Shinkurō tightening with each heartbeat.

  The Red Moon had risen.

  And with it, the shadows would follow.

  It started with silence.

  No birds sang. No insects hummed. The woods surrounding Takamori Village had gone still—as if holding their breath.

  Then came the signs.

  Farmers found their crops blackened overnight, stalks brittle, fruit soured. The livestock refused to graze. Dogs howled through the night, and cats vanished entirely. Deer fled the woods.

  Even the wind had changed—blowing dry and wrong, like breath from a beast that couldn’t be seen.

  And above it all, the Red Moon lingered, unmoving.

  “It’s him,” some whispered behind closed doors. “Ever since he came… the signs began.”

  Ichijo Yuki heard them.

  Every glance.

  Every shadowed murmur.

  He felt them, like knives in his back. But he said nothing. He only tightened the bandages around his burnt hands and walked on.

  Meanwhile, in the village library, Yoru sat with The Ember’s Burden open before her. Her purple eyes flicked from line to line, a knot tightening in her chest.

  “When the sky bleeds and the beasts flee, the Flame awakens. The blade is no longer a tool—it becomes a hunger. It will speak. It will tempt. And if the wielder is alone… it will consume.”

  Yoru’s heart sank.

  She turned the page slowly. Her fingers trembled.

  “The Crest of Crimson Flame grows stronger as the soul suffers. If the wielder is not anchored… the sword will become his voice.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “This is happening to him…”

  That night, Yuki sat alone outside his room, the village asleep behind him. His body ached, but it was his mind that truly suffered.

  Then—

  A voice.

  Not his own.

  “She will leave you.”

  His eyes widened. He looked around.

  “They all will.” “Except me.”

  The sword Shinkurō, still strapped to his side, vibrated faintly. Not with heat—but with hunger.

  Yuki gritted his teeth. “Shut up.”

  “You don’t need them. You only need me.”

  He stood quickly, but the voice followed.

  “They fear you now.” “So why not become what they already see?”

  The sky bled crimson.

  The red moon hung low over Takamori Village, casting an eerie glow over the rooftops and trembling fields. Whispers stirred among the villagers—stories of the Blood Moon, an ancient omen said to herald disaster, war… and demons.

  Inside the mayor’s hall, a sudden knock echoed.

  The heavy doors creaked open, revealing a tall young woman flanked by two elite guards. Her long black cloak fluttered with the wind, but her posture radiated control and nobility. She stepped inside without hesitation, the torchlight catching the silver trim of her travel-worn armor.

  “I apologize for the abrupt arrival,” she said, her voice calm but commanding. “I am Selene Van Crad, Princess of the Crown. I came as soon as I received word.”

  Prince August stood from his seat, relief briefly crossing his face. “Sister. You made it.”

  She offered a short bow to the room. “Forgive my delay. The roads have grown dangerous—even for royalty.”

  Mayor Genzō nodded, recognizing her face from royal portraits. “Your Highness, it’s an honor. We’re grateful for your presence.”

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  Selene moved toward the war table and unrolled a fresh map she’d brought from the capital.

  “We don’t have much time,” she said, pressing a gloved finger to a winding trail east of the village. “If the red moon is what the texts suggest, then this village may be the first in a wider campaign. We must begin evacuation procedures.”

  August raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “We prioritize the civilians. I’ll organize a quiet withdrawal toward the capital. Riders will escort them. We’ll leave behind only those fit to fight.”

  Yuki, passing by the cracked door on his way back from training, slowed. He heard the words.

  Evacuation. Flee. Abandon.

  The tension in his chest grew tighter

  As the discussion inside the mayor’s hall grew quieter, Yuki stood just outside the door, having caught only fragments of the conversation. He took a breath and stepped in.

  “Excuse me,” Yuki said, his voice calm but firm. All eyes turned to him—including a pair of striking blue ones.

  A young woman stood beside Prince August, her posture graceful, yet commanding. Golden hair cascaded past her shoulders like sunlight, and though her expression was composed, curiosity flickered in her gaze.

  “I heard talk of an evacuation plan,” Yuki continued, his green eyes meeting hers briefly before shifting to the others. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m ready.”

  There was a pause. Then the young woman stepped forward, offering a faint, poised smile.

  “I’m Princess Selene of House VanCrad,” she said. “I’ve come from the capital to oversee the preparations myself.” Her eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary. “So… you’re the one they speak of—the one with the crimson sword.”

  Yuki gave a small bow. “Ichijo Yuki. I just want to protect the village. That’s all.”

  Selene glanced at her brother, then back at Yuki. “August… would you mind arranging a sparring match?” she said casually, though her tone held a spark of intrigue. “I’d like to see for myself what he’s capable of.”

  Prince August raised a brow at his sister’s request. “You want to see him fight? Don’t tell me you’re already interested.”

  Selene folded her arms, feigning indifference. “I simply want to assess the strength of the one carrying that sword. That’s all.”

  Yuki remained silent, though he could feel the weight of both their gazes. He shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of Shinkurō at his waist.

  “Very well,” August said, gesturing toward the open training grounds just outside the hall. “We’ll keep it light—just a spar.”

  Minutes later, the villagers and soldiers gathered, word of the spar spreading quickly. The crimson glow of Shinkurō shimmered faintly at Yuki’s side as he stepped into the circle opposite Prince August.

  Selene stood to the side, arms crossed, watching closely.

  August drew his standard-issue knight’s blade—sleek, polished, and deadly. “Let’s begin.”

  They clashed.

  Yuki moved with fluid precision, his movements born from discipline—not training halls, but desperate survival. August, in contrast, was every bit the noble warrior: formal, calculated, powerful.

  Blades rang out, sparks flying with each impact.

  Selene’s breath caught as Yuki ducked beneath a sweeping strike, countered, then feinted—only for August to parry and launch his own counterattack. They were evenly matched, but as the match dragged on, it became clear Yuki was holding something back.

  August pressed forward. “You’re not using everything. Are you testing me?”

  Yuki narrowed his eyes, shifting his stance. “No. I’m trying not to lose control.”

  That answer made Selene flinch.

  Then, for a moment—just a heartbeat—Shinkurō’s red gleam intensified. August noticed it too.

  Their blades met one last time—and both men froze, swords inches from each other’s throats.

  A tie.

  They stepped back, breathing hard.

  “Well fought,” August said, lowering his blade.

  Yuki nodded. “Likewise.”

  Selene stepped forward, her tone composed. “You fight like someone who’s been through hell.”

  Yuki looked away. “Maybe I have.”

  For a moment, the silence stretched.

  Then Selene smiled—soft, but genuine. “That’s exactly the kind of strength we need.”

  Yoru had been watching from the edge of the training ground, arms folded, expression unreadable. Her violet eyes hadn’t left Yuki once during the entire spar.

  As the match ended in a draw, she exhaled slowly.

  When Yuki stepped away from the circle, she approached him quietly. “You held back,” she said.

  Yuki offered a tired smile. “Yeah… I had to.”

  Yoru’s gaze flicked to his hand, still trembling slightly from the force of the clash. “I know. But next time, don’t try to carry everything alone.”

  She glanced over her shoulder, noticing Selene still watching him with quiet interest. A faint, teasing smile curled on Yoru’s lips. “You’ve got fans now.”

  Yuki groaned softly. “Please don’t start.”

  “Too late,” she said with a soft chuckle, nudging his shoulder lightly.

  Before he could reply, a soldier rushed across the square. “Mayor Genzo is calling everyone to the meeting hall. It’s urgent.”

  Moments later, the bell tolled throughout the village. Men, women, and children gathered quickly—many glancing nervously at the blood-red sky overhead.

  The moon still loomed high, its crimson glow stubbornly lingering even as the sun rose. It painted the village in an eerie light, turning the morning into a waking nightmare.

  Princess Selene stood atop the meeting platform with Mayor Genzo and Prince August at her side. Her blue eyes scanned the crowd—firm, but kind.

  “People of Takamori,” she began, her voice clear, “you’ve fought bravely. But we face an enemy greater than anything this land has seen in generations.”

  She pointed to the red moon above. “This is no natural omen. This is a sign—one that has long marked the coming of great calamity.”

  Gasps rippled through the villagers. Mothers pulled children closer. Elders exchanged grim looks.

  “We will not abandon you,” she continued. “But we must act wisely. Tomorrow, we begin evacuating the non-combatants—women, children, and the elderly will be escorted to the capital under the protection of the Royal Guard.”

  Mayor Genzo stepped forward. “We’ll reinforce the village for those who choose to stay and defend. But know this: we are not alone. Help has come.”

  He turned to the prince, then to Yuki.

  “And we have heroes in our midst.”

  Yuki shifted uncomfortably as dozens of eyes fell on him. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. The villagers saw the scars, the fire in his eyes, and the blade at his side.

  Selene gave one final word. “You have until sundown to prepare. Gather only what you need. We leave at first light.”

  As the crowd slowly dispersed, whispering and worrying, Yuki stood silently beside Yoru.

  The red moon loomed overhead, unmoving—watching.

  And something in Yuki’s chest stirred.

  Whispering again.

  “Burn… protect… feed me…”