The sound of the clock ticking came rather uninvited. Rowan shuffled through a dozen dishes, preparing a bottle the baby waited for, with his hands in the air.

In turn, Koyote's gaze battled the Tributal and everything else present. Sometimes, it was a glance over at the child, and at other times, Ambrosia let out a slight breath.

Either way, she tried to focus on the number of champagne letters in front of her. Having read a good few, more only seemed to paint the rest of the story.

"I didn't know these could be used like this." Koyote flipped one around, as Rowan heated the stove with their arrow. "Seems like proof that the so-called Demonear magic comes from the body."

"Wouldn't you know?" Rowan asked, calmly. "You're a Demonear."

"Kind of." she sighed. "Don't you need any help with that? You're all wounded, as far as I can tell."

"I'll manage on my own," they uttered. "It's been like this since forever."

Koyote took off her hat. "So I was right to assume that the markings on the street and all that dried-out blood left was your doing?"

The Tributal stopped, staring at the boiling water.

"Or it's that curse stuff written here." Koyote reached for the letters again, skimming through.

Rowan moved through, sitting on the carpet next to the wicker basket, and passing a milk bottle into the baby's hands. This time, they held it firmly, but only for the next few seconds, as the Tributal had to focus again.

"Honestly," Rowan muttered. "I thought he was a burden."

"The baby? It's not yours?"

"Someone left it by the doorstep one day. So I took him in, even though, deep inside, I was deathly afraid the same things would happen again."

Koyote put her hand over her knee.

"That the curse would take him away from me. It tried, for sure, last night." Rowan turned, raising one bandaged arm. "Once again though... I survived. Even though I was sure it was really it this time, I was glad to have protected his innocent life, whoever he might be. Though, Ambrosia awoke, then. They didn't save me, rather-"

The baby let go of the bottle, and Rowan was quick to reach their hands back in.

"...they took care of the baby. As if it was some first instinct." Rowan blinked. "That made me stand up once more. Since then, Ambrosia's been asleep. It's not the same comatose as earlier, though, there's no contact. I'm afraid that the greatest of my fears went through to some degree. Everyone's fears, to be honest."

"Sin Sacrifice." Koyote nodded. "I knew a man who had books like these splattered all over his library. Fitting for a tyrant with the words 'sacrifice' written over his motifs."

Rowan raised a brow.

"Though..." Koyote glimpsed away. "That's a story for another time. I'm more interested in the source." She raised the written, split letter as it slowly drifted towards the other paper on the table.

The Tributal turned, letting go of the bottle and placing it on the table, next to the scraps of paper.

One connected to their arrow, the other, to the letter Koyote received.

Rowan scanned through the other papers afterwards, finally finding one where the red font ended in question marks.

***

"My secret," Bancho muttered. "Since now's the high time for you to learn."

Ambrosia waited patiently, as Bancho's hand landed in his pocket, with fingers almost poking through in the search for something.

Then, when a paper shuffled inside, the Wise stopped for a few seconds.

He closed his eyes and then handed the sheet to the Tributal.

"It's quite rough," they commented. "What's this for?"

"A champagne letter," he called. "A sort of memento, especially for situations such as these. If you split into parts, they'll slowly wiggle in the other direction to connect back to the origin. However, they won't ever be united again."

Ambrosia scanned the outer edges with their fingers, as Bancho trod over to the fire. He coughed out, gently, before closing his eyes and waiting for a few more seconds.

"That's not the secret, though. Lots know about champagne letters. Especially if you'd ask anyone outside the Mainland."

Ambrosia nodded. "Then, what is it for?"

"To ensure your safety. For my sake, and everyone else's." Bancho commented, turning around. "I want you to split this letter into four. Glue the first one to your Guardian Demon."

"Glue?" they blinked, chuckling a little.

"It'll stick without much of a fight. Attach the other to one of Rowan's arrows before they set out. Leave one for yourself, the biggest part and the last shall be mine."

"So all of us can find each other again?" Ambrosia asked. "Sir, I thought I was clear-"

"No, Ambrosia. I'm not planning to come back either."

The Tributal halted for a few seconds, as the embers weakened, and the Wise sat back down.

"If you hadn't told me anything about secrets, I would've only died a colder, less meaningful death."

"What do you mean, Vit Bancho?"

He chuckled. "Shi Hon is one formidable opponent. It's not the first or the second time I'll be facing the likes of him. You know how all the other Wise perished. War, protection, or letting themselves step into oblivion for the sake of others. My story's the same, ultimately. It's been thousands of those witches told of the same thing." he beamed. "I pushed myself to my limit, as I always did, and will do so again. That's what the champagne letters are for." he pointed. "I want to give them the last, standing ovation."

"Vit Bancho," Ambrosia repeated, with their smile disappearing. "If we have the power in our hands, we can surely find another solution."

"...and I'm not saying there won't be. It's just a hunch, and those turn very true." he grinned. "You shined some hope on that shadow-"

Ambrosia suddenly stood up, grabbing Bancho by his collar. The Wise didn't resist, and neither did they.

For the first time, it was the entire world, as some would call him, managing to sneak a glance through the toughest of shields placed for nothing to hurt.

Raised by their Chicho, who tried to guard them from learning the truth, and now further pushed to the brink by Bancho, who only managed to crack another smile.

Ambrosia let go, stepping to the side.

"My sincerest apologies."

"One secret for another."

"I can save you."

"What if I resist?"

"I'll be stubborn."

"What if I'll be even more stubborn? What if I want to die there?"

"The whole world needs you, Vit Bancho," Ambrosia uttered, through a gulp. "You can't just-"

A hand landed on their shoulder. Ambrosia took a deep breath.

"I'm gonna be on my way in. Not that I underestimate you, but the other six would never make it through to the end all by their lonesome. Not now, not with the little time we have."

Ambrosia turned, meeting his still-warm gaze, as another cough could've signalled his words.

There must've been more to that story. It was never this simple with the Wise, as everyone would tell them.

Bancho was a great liar, after all.

The Tributal slid his hand off their shoulder and waited for a few seconds, as the Morian sat back down on the couch, breathing in.

"What about the Morians?"

"Hmm?"

"Morio. Jyuzou." they continued. "They'll be heartbroken."

Bancho breathed out, looking up. "That's where you come in."

***

"So." Koyote scanned through another letter, before meeting Rowan's gaze. "Bancho was the one who sent them here."

"They must've planned everything out in those caves, though, it wasn't Shi Hon who killed him. He wasn't even there." Rowan ground his teeth. "...and neither was Ambrosia. They waited by the cave's exit for everyone else and swooped the Morians before leaving the underground on Bancho's horse. I assume the letter must've been sent from here. Especially if you take into consideration the broken bust near the workshop."

"I get it. Ambrosia was the one who sent it, but it was the other bastard who had the intention and knowledge of my existence in Galliath. Even though I'm not a Demonear."

"A bastard?" Rowan raised a brow. "H-He saved them, Koyote. If it wasn't for their plan and every other thing my Chicho came up with, do you think they'd live through?"

"I get that too. Morio and Jyuzou were weak, and that's what Bancho must've meant. Not enough time equalled them being sent under my watch. Though, I don't get it, and I doubt I will. Is there any other champagne letter that I didn't see yet?"

Rowan glanced back and forth through a gulp, before shaking his head.

Koyote sighed, pushing her head against the table and thinking for a few seconds longer.

"Pain was one thing that I couldn't describe how I felt, and when my body collapsed from exhaustion, I spotted him. Your dearest Bancho, standing above the ruins with a half-mended expression. He didn't reach his hand out. He didn't help me or try to explain what just happened."

Koyote cleared her raspy throat.

"My glance met him, in the middle of this sea, and then he left as if riding the wave towards another destination."

"How would someone like him ever know?" Koyote asked.

Rowan gulped, avoiding eye contact. "He had friends everywhere in the world. I'm assuming Galliath was no different."

"Presumably. What made him change his mind, after all?"

"I'm sorry." they sighed. "I don't get what you're trying to tell me."

"That-" Koyote looked up. "Bancho abandoned me when I needed him the most."

The clock's ticking grew relentless. It invaded the moment, until dispersing with the next words.

"So." Koyote continued. "How would he ever know?"

"Perhaps it's fate." Rowan continued. "If... that's any satisfying answer."

"The letters talked of me as if he knew me in the first place." she shook his head. "What would fate have to do with that?"

"I don't know, and... we never will." Rowan put their knees up. "One thing though, Koyote."

The Haran let go of their clenched fist and eyed the Tributal.

"Do you regret it?"

The woman moved back a little.

Where would any of them be now?

Their arrival, training, misfortunes and smiles, and finally erasing the one thing that kept Koyote bound to her past.

If it wasn't for the Morians, she wouldn't find the courage to end everything then.

She wouldn't have her ever-broken arm, and the four would've been stuck between a rock and a hard place.

No Shi Hon to defeat, no hopes of a brighter future, but despair connected to the death of someone everyone looked up to, except for her.

Maybe then, just maybe, it was what the two here agreed on.

Through it all, despite it all, and in the end, all alone.

A curse needed to be broken for them to understand.

However, mysteries remained, even when the sun shone through.

One letter belonged to Ambrosia, and as for the other, it was another answer for her to figure out.

***

Darkness described all patterns seen in the depths of Grimmora, combatting muffled shuffles in silence. The fate of those left was trickling on a few silent coins thrown into a non-existent wind.

Leopold remained, as he promised himself. Looking out from the unchanged tops spoke of a different story.

It wasn't that they weren't preparing anymore, but employing the same strategy Shi Hon talked of. Maybe it was a strange unison among those two, without a word added which left him to ponder everything for a little longer.

Would the plan here speak of the same thing Shi Hon had in mind?

If, there was anything more to those words he mentioned. Leopold fixed his mask in frustration, before leaving the upper tower, travelling into the rocky cave corridors, and finding himself near a few waterfalls crashing into a river, leading right out of Grimmora.

Blood was splattered all over those rocks. He stood still, hearing a weep through the darkness, as one human managed to escape, with a broken leg to top it off.

He could've been the reason for even more crimson staining these quiet, unnerving halls. Laughter and violence were quickly broken by the man leaping onto Leopold's arm.

"H-Help me...!" the Mirillian uttered, desperately. "P-Please!"

Leopold remained still.

It wasn't an order.

The Mirillian eventually dropped to the ground. It was either death on the spot or loss of consciousness through the pain.

Leopold couldn't tell, because he didn't look down. Instead, his gaze focused on another figure moving through the darkness, carrying something, or rather, someone in their grasp.

"Leopold," Hakate uttered, stopping a few meters away, where darkness still coated him. That forced the other to move, revealing another moment that made him halt. "Why don't you finish the job?"

"I didn't kill him."

"Exactly, mainly because he's still crawling around. Guess that one human wasn't strong enough to chase his dreams right out of a hellhole. What a bunch of useless nothing that one."

One move of the hand allowed for the chainhook to extend and rip into the man's face. The Mirillian screamed out in pain before he was cut off by Hakate tearing the rest of his dignity to pieces.

The Haran adjusted his mask, and so did Leopold, flinching lightly.

"You think anyone else managed to get out of here? Would have to ask the boss for that story, and I'm sure he'd answer now."

"Who did you kill?" Leopold asked.

Hakate chuckled. "I did not kill, but simply bring another peon to the army. You should start working on the same thing soon enough if you still want to secure a spot in desperate times."

Hakate dropped Kania's body onto the ground. All bloody, bruised and wounded, with tearstains dragging down his bandages and fair, Haran skin.

Leopold clenched his fist, with Hakate crouching over.

"A sore loser. Though, I think death would be the harder way out for him."

"Why?" Leopold uttered.

"He deserves it."

"I'm not asking about him." Leopold raised his voice slightly. "You said you despised demons and yet, you're doing all of this for their sake."

"Who are you to speak?" Hakate asked, straightening up. "Who's a human amongst demons telling me what's right and what isn't?"

"I'm not saying anything. I accepted it already." Leopold continued. "You haven't though."

Hakate stayed still for a few seconds, before crouching again and picking Hakate up by the shoulder.

"That's the difference between you and me. I'm still fighting, Leopold," he whispered. "...and I plan to get out of hell sooner."

***

As for the ever-seeing eyes of Leiru, tonight, they were closed. No more was it anything along the lines of maintaining order where such wasn't ever spoken of.

Lisbeth remained guard, however, nearing the few towers that he occupied for the time being. In there, rested more troops, and a few demons sprawled out from the corridors beneath to wander the blueish halls towards where action still took place.

Her eyes quickly passed by Rottwan and Axel, with the demon nodding in her direction. The Wise was either sleeping or simply pretending to do so.

She could never tell, perhaps because she never irked herself to step near these two. Her attention focused on something else, as soft footsteps sounded through another cave connecting towards the navy dome with a few rivers ending where she stood.

It wasn't a human that painted the blood of the stones passing through, since Lisbeth noticed the last wound that still adorned Aishao's body.

More clicks around sounded. Demons stepped on nearby stairs to turn and peek. Some moved through arches to stop at the sight, and Lisbeth only clenched her fist.

"We were searching for you," she spoke, as Aishao inched closer, almost sliding on the rocky ground. His body was trembling, as she noted it usually happening.

Aishao didn't answer; he couldn't answer. He stopped near the demoness and stared into the thick shadow covering her eyes. In his case, darkness consumed everything but the clear pupil staring in her direction.

Lisbeth was different, in that regard, yet both were still demons.

Undoubtedly, ruled by the same hand floating somewhere above hell.

Aishao shook his head, before bowing.

Lisbeth stared for a while, as the velvet spurred out of Aishao's claw at the touch of the harshness below.

She let go of her clenched fist, and put her hand through the back of his fur, forcing him to straighten up.

"It should be me that's bowing in front of you," Lisbeth muttered, putting her hand near her chest. "It only boggles my mind, thinking about what you'd have done outside of Grimmora. Demons like you are not on par with the simplest armies here."

Then, as said, she bowed. A few heads that were earlier watching were quickly gone, and Aishao stared up, seemingly unnerved. He slightly pushed on Lisbeth's shoulder, and the demoness looked up.

His pure eye met hers, once again.

"Will you lead the fight on his side?"