Kudo slowly regained consciousness.
But when he came to his senses and saw the scene before him, he couldn’t comprehend it at first—despite knowing he was still under the influence of Ashen Mantle.
Before him stood a colossal tree, so vast that even tilting his head back, he couldn’t see its top.
A tree that seemed to shed golden molecules instead of leaves.
At its roots lay a creature unlike anything he had ever seen, even after facing countless ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) horrors.
And standing before that lifeless being—was Hildebert.
The young rookie.
Wearing tattered clothes, ash spilling from beneath his cloak-like mantle, Hilde was rejoicing at the sight of the dead creature.
Muttering incomprehensible words.
‘ΔΦΧΤΥΥ! ΔΦΧΤΥΤ!’
What the hell was he saying?
Kudo had no idea. The sounds were meaningless, alien. The rookie hopped about in elation, and Kudo, utterly bewildered, could only stare at the illusion.
Until the young rookie staggered forward toward the massive tree.
As the image of the younger Hilde walked on, another figure appeared—
Hildebert himself, blood running down his leg as he climbed the stairs.
“...You!”
Kudo caught the scent of blood and widened his eyes.
There was no question about who had stabbed him.
He pushed himself up with his arms and rushed toward the staggering Hilde.
‘βδεΛ.’
From the distance, the younger Hilde’s voice continued.
‘ΗΘΕΔΔ.’
The illusionary rookie knelt before the great tree, beyond the corpse of the creature.
Golden pollen-like seeds poured over Hilde, but Kudo paid them no mind. He sprinted to the real Hildebert, grabbed him as he tried to climb the stairs, and fumbled through the younger man’s uniform pockets.
The Black Badger combat uniform.
Inside one pocket—a tourniquet.
Kudo ignored the twitching roots of the tree and wrapped the band tightly around Hilde’s thigh.
“Damn it, hold still.”
He muttered low to the struggling rookie.
Naturally, there was no response. By now, the younger Hilde in the vision was nearly buried beneath the shower of golden petals.
Jonathan Kudo couldn’t make sense of any of it. The praying figure, the writhing roots, the golden seeds cascading like a waterfall—none of it.
Maybe the kid was from one of the frontier Cores. He’d heard there were Cores that didn’t use the common language—maybe he’d encountered some unique kind of creature there.
He didn’t know, and it didn’t matter.
He had to get this bleeding rookie out of the building. The kid’s regeneration was too slow compared to others of his class.
Even after losing so much blood, Hilde’s wound wouldn’t close.
Kudo bit his lip hard. Even if I blame Ashen Mantle, that wound is still one I gave him.
But guilt was a luxury for those who survived.
Holding Hilde tight, Kudo kicked his good leg out from under him.
Thud!
The rookie fell. Kudo swiftly scooped him up.
Despite Hilde’s fierce struggling, he didn’t relent and started down the stairs.
The veins stood out on Kudo’s arms as he gripped the railing to keep them from tumbling.
Beyond each cautious step, the air shifted. A faint breeze brushed past, and the background began to change.
‘Hilde!’
It was the only word he could understand.
‘ΕΆΓΔΥΦΦ!’
The speaker had curly white hair and golden eyes.
Kudo saw the younger Hilde turn toward him—now fully grown, his white hair flowing to his waist. The bright strands contrasted beautifully with his sun-browned skin.
...What strange clothing.
Not just Hilde—everyone around him wore the same. They stood in formation, clad in silver armor, swords at their sides.
And yet it all felt natural. As if every emotion the rookie was feeling—Kudo could feel too.
The sight of beloved comrades.
That swelling pride, the fierce affection in one’s chest.
‘ΨΧΧΨ?’
The long-haired Hilde smiled lazily.
‘ηθΔΕΔ.’
Thud!
The men tumbled down the stairs.
Hilde’s struggling suddenly grew violent. Kudo grunted and pushed himself up.
Blood soaked his uniform—his own and the rookie’s mingled together.
Hilde coughed several times, then began crawling up the stairs again, tears streaming down his face.
“Rei.”
A name slipped from Hilde’s lips.
“Rei. I’m sorry, I...”
Kudo understood—it was the name of a comrade.
A name called across a distance too wide to bridge.
He climbed the blood-slick stairs after the limping rookie and, with careful precision, struck the back of Hilde’s knee.
This time, he reached out and caught him before he could hit the floor.
“...Let’s go.”
You have people waiting for you. Kudo murmured it as he lifted the struggling Hilde into his arms.
The scenery shifted again, almost mockingly—changing right before his eyes.
He ignored it. He couldn’t understand the language anyway, and all his focus was on not dropping the rookie as he descended.
And then, as if to taunt him, words came in a tongue he could understand.
“Live together, you say?”
A long-haired man glared at Hilde, who sat opposite him, fury cold in his voice.
“You mean blending in? Living peacefully? Are you insane? There are cameras everywhere! In every human hand, on every shop ceiling, in the streets! Don’t you know what the Internet is? You still don’t even know what SNS means?”
“Calm down. I only suggested it as a hypothesis.”
Hilde’s voice was steady.
They were speaking English now—two men seated at a beachside terrace, the ocean glittering beyond them.
The dark-haired man, striking and furious. Hilde, his white hair tied back, composed across from him.
No one else was there.
Just the blinding horizon and the gleaming blue sea.
‘It’s been fine until now.’
‘Are you kidding me? You know why it’s been fine? Because they’ve needed us. Because we showed them something they couldn’t refuse—hope.’
‘I know.’
‘But this fragile balance won’t last long. You feel it too, don’t you? The end’s coming.’
‘Yeah.’
‘You don’t actually believe they’re foolish enough to trust peace, do you?’
Hilde gazed at the sea for a moment, silent.
Then he spoke quietly.
‘No. It’s just...’
‘We can win. What are you so afraid of?’
‘I’ve told you before.’
Hilde’s voice rose.
Kudo could feel the anger and fear radiating from it—so strong it prickled his skin even through the illusion.
The curly-haired man leaned closer.
Hildebert stared straight into his golden eyes and shouted,
‘Why can’t you see what’s happening? Kyle, face reality!’
Thud!
They fell again—rolling down the stairs.
Good. Kudo thought grimly. The fall brought them closer to the ground floor. There was no time to waste. He sprang up without hesitation.
The rookie squirmed weakly on the floor, exhausted. Kudo rushed to him and lifted him once more.
He wasn’t resisting as much now.
‘Failed again.’
The scenery shifted once more. Hilde now lay staring at the ceiling, face wrapped in bandages.
Before him sat a man and a woman, both holding cigars.
A glass table separated them, another cigar resting in an ashtray—it looked like Hilde’s, half-smoked.
They sat in an opulent room, heavy with silence.
‘Again.’
‘Persistent human, isn’t he. What was his name?’
‘Colton.’
The woman’s sultry voice asked, and Hilde answered weakly,
‘Colton Wiseman.’
‘Should’ve clipped him while he was young,’ the man said, his face turned away.
‘When his faction was still nothing...’
Something struck Kudo’s foot.
He looked down—his phone, shattered. A new model from last year.
It must have been his.
The screen was completely destroyed. Likely from when Kudo knocked it aside.
Guilt swelled in his chest. He tightened his hold on the bleeding rookie.
The wound still wouldn’t close. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull the sword free. Any normal Badger would’ve healed the instant the blade came out.
Uneasy, Kudo quickened his pace down the stairs.
The sign for the first floor came into view.
Meanwhile, the scene shifted again—Hilde’s desperate voice echoing through it.
The rookie’s image was pleading with someone.
“Please, Rei.”
A voice so desperate it tore at the listener’s heart.
“Please, think again...”
“Hilde.”
The man in the strange silver armor—the young one with the white curls—looked down at Hilde, who knelt before him, clutching his right hand.
They were in a dark room.
Bathed in dim, bluish light, the man lowered his gaze and whispered,
‘ΥΦΥδεζΔΕΖΗ. ΦΧΨθΦεχΕΔΡΠαβΰρπρΕΛ.’
A foreign tongue.
Likely the rookie’s native language. As those unfamiliar words rained down, Hilde lifted his head.
Golden eyes shone wide in the dark.
Kudo saw it—the despair in Hilde’s gaze as he looked up at the man called Rei.
Despair and fear.
Grief so deep it couldn’t be measured.
The vision shifted again.
Now Hilde had short hair.
“This?”
“Yeah. Give it to someone who can wield it properly.”
The rookie’s face was lined with exhaustion. He handed a long, wrapped object to a sharp-eyed woman.
A chandelier glittered above them.
“There’s no turning back now.”
Countless emotions filled those golden eyes.
From that weight, Kudo read regret.
He didn’t understand everything he saw—why Hilde argued with his comrade, what he’d failed at, why he’d knelt before that friend and begged.
But he knew one thing: Hilde had made an irreversible choice.
And that he would never be free of it.
“Pass the sword on, Jaeyeon. To the one who can use it best.”
It was agony to watch.
There was no blood, no violence—yet the sight alone was suffocating.
Kudo started running, clutching the weeping rookie tightly. He bolted toward the visible main entrance.
Don’t die.
He ignored every lingering echo and image. Even the voice of his late wife whispering to him.
All he wanted now was to pull this strange rookie out of his torment.
Because he knew too well the agony of choices that couldn’t be undone.
He too had drowned in an inescapable past.
The ring, the faded keepsakes. The remembered and the forgotten.
Jonathan Kudo tore through the illusions—
kicked open the glass doors—
and burst outside.
Open sky.
Cold, clean air filling his lungs.
And then—
his phone began to ring.
