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Traveler – Part 07

“We’re under attack!”

The cry was accompanied by the blaring of a horn.

Wrapped in sleeping bags, the injured boys stirred, rising as if under the enchantment of the horn’s spell. One by one, they armed themselves and bravely emerged from their tents. Clutching the unfinished letter to his chest, Kazuya joined his comrades outside.

Snowy rain made it bitterly cold, swiftly chilling them to their bones. Despite the absence of the moon and stars, it was unusually bright—the enemy’s searchlights intermittently illuminating the winter forest.

A bomb landed nearby, the explosive boom shaking the ground. Enormous flames and dust engulfed Kazuya and his fellow soldiers.

“Ah…”

Heat knocked them to the ground, and Kazuya’s letter floated away like a white dove, gently fluttering in the night sky illuminated by the searchlights.

“W-Wait…” Kazuya groaned. “I have to send it. To Ruri…”

Collapsed on the ground, he watched the letter fly away, soaring into the night as if summoned to the heavens.

“To Victorique…”

Another bomb exploded nearby. Soldiers scrambled towards the trenches, and Kazuya rose to join them.

“To Dad…”

Pelted by heavy rain, the letter crumpled, spiraling down like it was struck by an invisible bullet, before landing in the dark, cold mud.

Kazuya sprinted towards the trenches.

Explosions and the sound of tank engines came from behind them. It was a surreal, harrowing scene. Young soldiers lay fallen at his feet. When Kazuya discovered a still-breathing comrade, he hoisted him onto his back and resumed running.

A tank approached, its menacing growl coming from right behind. The searchlight marked them. Kazuya raced along the empty, white road frantically. A searing pain shot through the back of his right thigh, and he collapsed.

In a small, trembling voice, he murmured, “To Mom…”

---

“So it’s certain that they haven’t boarded a ship bound for the New World.”

Marquis Albert de Blois’s voice reverberated in the basement of the Phantom theater, located in Saubreme, capital of the Kingdom of Sauville.

Morella and Camilla were by his side. Officials stayed frozen in fear. None of them spoke a word.

Four days had passed since the escape of the occult weapon, the wolf cub Victorique, from the giant prison known as the Soleil Noir, the Black Sun. Despite the Royal Knights sealing off routes and scouring Saubreme to prevent her escape, the elusive wolf remained beyond their grasp, even with an expanded investigation beyond the city’s borders.

Morella and Camilla had gathered intel that said a red-haired youth and a small golden-haired girl were spotted at the harbor on that fateful day. However, the presence of the red-haired youth, Brian Roscoe, raised perplexing questions, as he should have been confined in the Black Sun with Cordelia Gallo.

“What does this mean? One of Brian’s tricks is being in two places at once. It’s hard to believe, but…”

The Ministry of the Occult swiftly contacted all ships bound for the New World that day, issuing warrants for the arrest of Victorique de Blois and Brian Roscoe, labeling them as criminals.

A tall young man with fiery red hair and a girl as lovely as a doll, with flowing golden hair and green eyes. Was there a more distinctive fugitive? However, oddly enough, every ship bound for the New World denied having the wanted individuals onboard.

Marquis de Blois, consumed by fury, ground his teeth. The sudden loss of his weapon had drastically changed the political landscape of the Kingdom of Sauville in just four days. Glory was slipping through his fingers. King Rupert de Gilet, increasingly terrified, was starting to lean more towards the Academy of Science.

Morella and Camilla exchanged low whispers.

“Let’s extend the arrest warrants…”

“…to other ships.”

“Such as those bound for Russia.”

“The Dark Continent, Africa.”

“And South America.”

“We have no idea…”

“…where they might have fled in the world.”

“After all, they are…”

“A philosopher in a fur coat, the greatest mind in Europe, the cursed Gray Wolf.”

They chuckled in unison.

“But…”

“An ancient creature boarding a ship so boldly…”

“…will likely end up dead along the way.”

“Lord Albert, we won’t board a ship, even for your sake. We can’t leave the Old World; it’s just how we ancient beings are. We can’t even breathe in the New World.”

“Because we are the sighs of the old realm.”

“Medieval specters sustained by magic.”

“In a world without the power of the occult, we old, pitiful puppets, will not survive.”

Marquis de Blois nodded. Raising his voice, he issued a new order. “Send search instructions to all ships that departed four days ago at once. We’re after a golden-haired girl and a red-haired youth. Tell them they are first-class criminals, the most dangerous fugitives ever to escape the Black Sun. Bring them back alive. Once they are found, tell the ship to return to Saubreme’s port immediately. We have to retrieve my cursed daughter and reinstate her as an occult weapon. Until her life is snuffed out, she will remain a machine divining the future!”

His sinister voice reverberated through the depths of the underground chamber.

“Ships bound for the Dark Continent, Russia, South America, and… yes, and make sure to include ships heading to Asian countries!”

Officials nodded and hurried out.

Marquis Blois looked up at the ceiling, his gaze piercing through something invisible.

What kind of vision would unfold tonight and present a spectacle for Albert? His face, distorted by anger and impatience, gradually displayed a cruel smile. Laughter spilled from his pale, dry lips.

Marquis Blois’s booming voice echoed underground, shaking the concrete walls.

---

The ship sailed across the open sea, slowly distancing itself from the Old World.

Waves roared persistently, and the ship’s whistle occasionally ripped throughout the ship.

As midnight approached, thunder rumbled in the distant sky. Again and again it crashed as it approached the ship, the light and roar of the gods. The waves grew higher, and outside rain began to pour. Lightning struck nearby.

Victorique, seated on a chair in the corner of a shabby second-class cabin, was staring at the light outside the porthole.

Her complexion was pale, and her body was even more emaciated than when she was confined in the stone chamber of Saubreme’s colossal prison, the Black Sun. However, her mysterious emerald green eyes shone with a glimmer of hope, hope that she would eventually reach the promised land.

Thunder crashed. It seemed as if the gods were striking the pitch-black sea with giant fists, determined not to let her escape.

Victorique glanced at the bed, where Brian Roscoe lay. He was much weaker than her, and terribly emaciated. Rough skin, sunken eyes. His body seemed to have departed to the underworld, with only his soul lingering. His cat-like, green eyes gleamed, fixated on the ceiling.

His dry lips moved. He was saying something, but it was inaudible. Victorique stood up and walked to the bedside, each step laborious. She brought her small ear close to Brian’s mouth.

“Cordelia,” he whispered in a cracked voice.

“Stay strong!” Victorique demanded. “We’re almost in the New World. You will make it, Brian Roscoe. Oh, brave, grouchy, fiery-red Gray Wolf.”

“You’re so loud. What is it?” Brian glanced sideways, breathing painfully. He frowned in concern. “I told you not to make a sad face since you look like Cordelia. It’s hard for me.”

“B-But Brian…”

“I’m done for. I’ll probably kick the bucket and meet the other me and Cordelia Gallo in the afterlife. The three of us, reunited. We’ll live a quiet life in hiding, protecting each other. Just like in Sauville.”

“Brian… No. You survived, mother wished for you to live. We will make it to the New World. Brian!”

“Squirt… Victorique… Are you coming with me? To the eternal land, where Cordelia is waiting.”

“…No.”

Victorique shook her head repeatedly. Her golden hair swayed, glistening under the lantern’s light.

“The soul is indestructible, but the body is not. Someday, I will also embark on that journey and reunite with my beloved mother and all the other people I cherish. But I believe that time is not now.”

“Even when you’re that weak.” Brian chuckled.

“I… I’m going to the New World.”

Her voice quivering, she said, “Because Kujou should be there.”

Brian fell silent. A moment later, he chuckled again. He lifted his trembling arm, and like a caring father, patted Victorique’s head.

“That’s the spirit, squirt.”

Closing his eyes, he fell into a deep sleep. Victorique, herself on the verge of collapse, continued watching Brian.