...

"Ah, perfect. So... did you bring back the Forge?"

"I defeated the Duke, but how was I supposed to drag it out of there?"

"No matter. All I needed was for you to secure the area. Your services will no longer be needed."

Marcellus had seen it countless times—Pathfinders being discarded, slaughtered by Zi'eer's hand. Individuals who represented countless futures, or in Zi'eer's own words, "infinite variables that could oppose me."

The Duke's tireless efforts to defend the Etrean Lumimant made this happen again and again. Perhaps, somewhere along the way, that indifference was planted in Marcellus's heart. "Cut off all variables." That's what Zi'eer had unknowingly sown in a too-young Marcellus.

Only much later, when Marcellus returned to Vigil and spoke with Evengarde Rest, did he learn the full truth. Zi'eer's so-called "salvation" for the people of Etris was nothing more than brainwashing—a spiritual tether.

In all the time he had served him, Marcellus had only seen Zi'eer rise from the throne once. That was also the moment when Purple Cloud was unsheathed.

"Strange, isn't it? That sword."

Marcellus held Purple Cloud in his hand. Though it had passed through many hands before reaching Mei's, he could still feel a piece of his brother within. The journey of Purple Cloud and Elliot Ivanel—Marcellus didn't need the world to know. It was enough that he remembered.

A commotion downstairs snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Let go of me! I have to see him!"

The voice of a young woman—angry, defiant.

Marcellus stepped out of his room, walking down the stairs slowly. A girl stood in the inn's common room. Her green hair was hastily tied back, bangs pushed aside, everything about her rushed. A birthmark on her cheek bore the unmistakable sigil of Celtor. She was struggling against several people trying to hold her back.

And when she spotted Marcellus, her reaction was immediate—she pulled out a massive battle axe. One that Marcellus would recognize anywhere.

Gran Sudaruska.

"There you are!"

Without hesitation, she hurled a spear of ice toward him, aimed directly at his heart.

But Marcellus hadn't survived this long by luck. A thread shot from his wrist, and in an instant, a veil of energy surrounded his body—intangible, almost inviting, and yet utterly impenetrable.

The moment the spear touched the barrier, Marcellus yanked the thread. A second thread fired from the void, latching onto the girl's leg—and flung her into the air, suspending her upside-down.

"H-Hey!"

She flailed, but the black thread held firm. She tried to grab it—but her hands passed through, as if it existed in another plane entirely.

With the situation under control, the surrounding patrons quietly dispersed, leaving only Marcellus and the upside-down Celtor girl. He sighed and rubbed his temple.

"I don't want to kill you."

"Well I want to kill you! Let me down, bastard!"

She swung her axe toward him, but to no avail. She tried channeling ether—but the thread seemed to have cut her off from the Song entirely, at least temporarily.

At that moment, Setareh walked in.

"Huh? Who's this, Marcellus?"

"No idea. Never seen her before."

Something about the girl felt... off. Since he began wandering, Marcellus had encountered countless people who wanted his head—for personal revenge, for money, or for pride. He had killed them all. But this one... this one felt familiar.

"Hey. What's your name?"

"..."

She didn't respond. Arms crossed, she looked away. Only the battle axe on her back answered.

"A filthy Contractor... The Ministry will fall, every last one of them..."

Setareh blinked. The axe radiated ancient cold—like the chill of a thousand-year glacier—and it spoke. She turned to Marcellus.

"Um... did that thing just talk?"

"Yeah."

"Yikes. Harsh. Is it talking about you?"

"...Yeah."

Gran Sudaruska was a battle axe forged from unyielding will and elemental frost. Its blade curved like the wings of a snow-covered bat, shimmering with ghostly blue light. Ancient runes adorned its surface—now cracked and worn—the legacy of the undying Sudaruska, whose soul had been sealed in the weapon after dying in a valiant battle against the Ministry.

Whenever it was swung, it wasn't just steel cutting flesh—it was wrath from the grave, made manifest.

Marcellus had never fought the wielder of Gran Sudaruska before—but of course he knew of it. A legendary weapon. Like his own Crypt Blade, it bore the Song within. And like his, it thirsted for Ministry blood.

"I'm sorry, but... I'm no longer with the Ministry. That was a long time ago."

"You... you killed my brother!"

Marcellus sighed.

"I'm sorry, but... I've killed a lot of people. If your brother was among them, he was either a former target—or someone who tried to claim my head."

"No! That's not it! He died... during the battle at the Castle of Light!"

The Castle of Light. The bloodbath Marcellus never wanted to revisit. Even now, he couldn't recall why he had fought so fiercely there. Power? Duty? Or was it just the bloodlust—of the Crypt Blade, or of himself?

"...Your brother... Was he an Apprentice Diver?"

"No!"

Marcellus exhaled—not from relief. Not even close.

"Then who? Akira?"

"No! Though I... I think..."

Marcellus's heart skipped a beat.

He looked into her eyes—sun-darkened skin, burning blue-violet eyes filled with an unquenchable fire. There was something painfully familiar in her face.

"...Who, then?"

She didn't hesitate.

"Elliot. Elliot Ivanel."

His face darkened. The Crypt Blade began to hum.

His hand clenched. The thread holding her leg quivered—strained under the emotion surging through Marcellus.

"I don't remember having any other siblings."

The air turned cold. What radiated from Marcellus now was unmistakable—killing intent.

"You said Elliot... was your brother."

"Y-Yes..."

Her eyes trembled with fear. Moments ago, Marcellus had seemed completely calm. Now, the pressure he emitted was unbearable—even though she wasn't even standing on solid ground.

"Elliot was my brother. Not yours."

His voice wasn't raised. It didn't need to be. Every word struck like a blade.

"Your delusion dishonors him."

Silence fell.

Marcellus's ears rang. Something primal inside screamed—Draw your sword. End her. Hunt down anyone who dares tarnish Elliot Ivanel's name.

Then, he finally spoke.

"Your name."

"M-My name is Fitz... Fitz Ivanel."

Again, his chest tightened. He couldn't remember what surname he and Elliot once had—but he would give anything to bear it beside his brother.

But this girl...

"Where did you get the name Ivanel?"

Fitz bit her lip. She didn't want to give up the name she had held onto all her life. But the look in Marcellus's eyes was that of a man unhinged. Cold. Dangerous. The name Ivanel was the spark.

In a shaky voice, she answered.

"...I was adopted."

The words were barely a whisper—but they weighed like lead.

Marcellus froze.

The rage in his eyes vanished. Before him was no longer an enemy, nor a ghost of Elliot. Just a girl. A girl terrified of losing the only thing she had ever clung to.

He turned away.

"Elliot... accepted you as his sister?"

Fitz nodded.

Marcellus brought a hand to his forehead again.

"He never mentioned it... but then, of course not. What could he have said?"

The thread dissipated into nothing. Fitz fell with a thud, gritting her teeth against the pain.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't ha—"

Marcellus cut himself off. His face showed no anger now—just exhaustion. And maybe... a little sorrow.

Fitz bowed her head. She had been there when the Crypt Blade pierced Elliot's body. But the moment she realized—felt—what Elliot and Marcellus truly were to each other, she understood. She and Marcellus... weren't so different.

"Marcellus... who are you, really?"

"Me?... I'm just a fool. A hopeless fool."

Marcellus turned back toward his room, leaving Fitz sitting on the wooden floor with a look of helplessness—and Setareh unsure what to do next.

"Hey... don't just leave me here..."

She scratched her head. She hadn't signed up to be part of Marcellus's family drama.

"Ugh... oh well."

She offered her hand to Fitz.

"Come on, get up. You want to know about Marcellus? I'll tell you."