Luna lay in the Ashen Barrow, gazing up at the scorching sun. In her hands rested a large, round fruit that glistened in the light. Its skin was smooth and black as onyx, while the flesh inside shone red as ruby. Her lips, chin, and fingers were smeared with its juice, making it look as though she were feasting on blood.

The air was heavy with a sweet, intoxicating aroma.

She was content here. The kind tree gave her land to rest on, the fruit to satisfy her hunger, and safety was certain because the Soul Tree would always protect her.

Still, something puzzled her. Why had Sunny and the others left? Why abandon the Soul Tree, when it was so generous, so kind? It made no sense.

A faint unease stirred in her chest. As though she had forgotten something... something very important. It felt like a dream she couldn't recall, slipping through her fingers the more she reached for it. She remembered… maybe… helping Sunny, Nephis, and Cassie escape the Ashen Barrow, guiding them away from the Soul Tree.

But why would she ever do that?

She shook her head. Just a shitty dream. Nothing more.

After taking the last bite of the nourishing fruit, Luna leaned back with a contented sigh, licking her lips. Her mouth still tingled with the delightful coolness. The ruby flesh had practically melted on her tongue, leaving behind a rich, lingering aftertaste that made her shiver with bliss. Truly, it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten; nourishing, refreshing, and intoxicatingly sweet. Pure joy, wrapped in a black shell.

Yet… it was a little lonely here.

Her gaze drifted toward the horizon as she chewed idly on the memory of the taste. She missed Amon… even Medici, the pompous capitalist. A grin tugged at her lips. She had been a true comrade, after all, sharing the fruits with Sunny and the others without asking for anything in return. Unlike Medici, blinded by his greed. Capitalism was pure evil, no doubt about it. People just didn't understand the greatness of Vozhd.

Snorting at her own thought, Luna shook her head, an amused smile spreading across her face. Enough lounging around. She could feel her ability weakening, too long without absorbing flesh and blood.

That was why she was especially delighted when the Carapace Centurion showed up on Ashen Barrow. Not only a chance to feed, but also to protect the soul tree. Two birds, one stone. A good day, hmm?

The Centurion was fast, far faster than she expected. Its bone scythe came flashing down, aiming to cut her clean in half. Luna's body lagged for a heartbeat, her mind strangely dazed… and in that instant, she lost her arm.

She hissed, frowning as she rolled across the ground, clutching the severed limb. Waste precious essence to regrow it? No. Better to reattach.

It wasn't perfect. Her flesh knitted back together, but the healing would take time. The arm was sluggish, clumsy and unreliable. Still, it would have to do.

Ducking low, she hardened her flesh and slammed her fist into the creature's chitin. The blow didn't break through, but it slowed the Centurion, buying her a heartbeat. Enough to weave a cloak of flesh around herself, its writhing folds rising just in time to intercept the monster's next strike.

She had fought a Centurion before, so she already knew its rhythm, its strengths, its weaknesses. When the monster lunged at her with its heavy head strike, she didn't resist but softened her flesh. Bones and muscles should have shattered under that force but instead, she melted into a boneless heap of writhing tissue, like rotten flesh refusing to break.

Convinced she was dead, the Carapace Centurion turned away. But by the time the Centurion realized something clung to its carapace, it was too late.

Luna's scarlet lips curved into a soft smile, eerily calm despite being drenched in blood and the juice of the soul fruit. Her pale hair clung to her bloodied skin, her dark flesh glistening with both her own gore and the juice of the soul fruit she had devoured earlier which made her seem strangely exotic and glamorous, if not for the savage gleam in her eyes.

She rammed her arm into the Centurion's maw. Fangs shredded her flesh, ripping it apart, but she didn't care. With a grimace, she tore herself free, leaving the mangled limb behind.

A heartbeat later, the flesh bomb hidden in her severed limb detonated.

The Centurion's torso burst apart in a thunderclap of gore, raining chitin and blood across the Ashen Barrow.

Shaking her head, Luna raised her hand and drew the carnage into herself, absorbing the monster's flesh and blood. Her wounds itched as her body mended, power swelling inside her.

She had no time for pain. She had to grow stronger. She had to protect the soul tree...

Wait… what was I forgetting? Why was I protecting this damned… Her thoughts slipped away, dissolving into mist before she could grasp them. Luna frowned, tilting her head, trying to dig them back out of the fog but nothing came. A groan escaped her as she let herself fall onto the blood-soaked ground.

Then she froze.

Her eyes widened, disbelief and something like delight blooming across her face. Slowly, a pleased smile curled her lips, strange and childlike.

"Amon! Is that you?" She rubbed her eyes, as if to make sure the vision would stay. "I knew you would come for me…"

Why would he? A whisper answered before she could question it. She had the soul tree. Of course. Amon must have recognized its generosity… its kindness… He had come to protect it too... To serve it, like her.

But then, a strange thought surfaced in her mind. What if Amon was here to harm the great tree? The suspicion flickered, only to be shattered as Amon chuckled pleasantly.

"Of course. I've heard of this place, it's the home of a magnificent tree, the protector of all who are hungry and in danger. To be honest, I feel honored to finally see the great Soul Tree."

He had noticed the faint, almost imperceptible hostility in her gaze, and with practiced charm and smooth words, disarmed her doubts. It wasn't particularly difficult, especially when dealing with Luna. Her mind was fractured, and she could barely form a thought without stumbling over it.

Calmly, he lowered himself beside her. For a while, they sat in silence. Then, Luna exhaled a soft sigh.

"Amon… can you do me a favor?"

Amon tilted his head, his expression shifting into curiosity.

"Sure. I guess…"

She smiled faintly, hugging her knees as she studied him. Her crystal-blue eyes carried such warmth that for a moment, Amon found himself dumbfounded. What's wrong with her? he thought.

Then Luna leaned back, resting her head gently against his shoulder.

"Don't leave me anymore. It's boring without you."

Amon nodded, but his face betrayed neither joy nor surprise. Anyone else, faced with such a confession from a woman as beautiful as Luna, would have been struck with disbelief and delight. But Amon's expression was flat, unreadable.

He stayed quiet for a while before letting out a slow breath, his eyes carrying an oddly melancholic weight.

"Anymore, hmm? I don't remember the story going that way. Truth is… you left me, not the other way around."

Luna lowered her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips.

"I know. But I had my reasons… Still angry about it?"

Amon exhaled sharply, a trace of annoyance flickering across his face before he brushed it away. There wasn't much point in holding on to that.

"Not really. We're not some dense anime characters, you know. Tsk… those motherfuckers never figure anything out." His mouth curved into a crooked half-smile. "Anyway, you had your reasons, I had mine. That's just life. Not everything works out the way we want it to."

Luna giggled, her voice pleasant and melodic. Even in this world, her voice never lost that soothing quality.

"I know, right? Still, after Lazare died, you turned..." She trailed off, her dazed eyes suddenly widening in realization. For a brief moment, it was as if the soul tree's hex had loosened, letting her mind slip free. Her voice softened, hesitant and almost guilty. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Amon waved his hand dismissively, leaning back against the vile tree.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

He said with a small smile. His brother was gone, that much was true. But that didn't mean he had to spend the rest of his life as a miserable bastard. Grief was natural, even necessary, but clinging to it could rot a person from the inside out. Luna had no reason to apologize for speaking the truth. Amon wasn't some immature fool who flew into anger over every little thing.

"So, are you having fun here? Soul Tree must be funny and enjoyable, right?"

Luna nodded, her smile bright and innocent, so bright it made Amon's chest tighten with unease. Still, his face never faltered. He wore the same easy, charming smile, his abilities working subtly to keep her distracted for just a little longer.

"Yep, it's really fun here," she said, her tone disturbingly cheerful.

Amon chuckled softly, as if her words were the most natural thing in the world. But behind that smile, anxiety gnawed at him like acid. He could see the influence of the Soul Tree. Luna had resisted for a long time, of course she had. The Secret Supplicant had given her that towering Spirituality. Her soul and mind were strong and resilient. But even that had limits.

Fuck, Medici had to be quicker or they were fucked.

Amon understood the danger better than anyone. Because he had never eaten the fruit, and because he was fully aware of the Soul Tree's hex, he could resist its corruption. Medici could, too… for now. But Amon could feel it, like a silent rot creeping into their thoughts. The tree's vile influence was gnawing at their minds, little by little.

That meant Medici had to destroy it. And soon.

Amon knew what the "story" demanded: that Cassie would one day glimpse Sunny's memories, see him burning the Soul Tree, and finally accept him after his fate was stolen. That was how it was supposed to go. That was the neat little thread tying their futures together.

But Amon didn't give a damn about plot.

Luna mattered more. More than Sunny, more than Cassie, more than any character in this damned world. She was real to him in a way nothing else here was. This was just a novel he once read for fun. Just a words on a page, nothing more, nothing less.

Why should he care about the main cast? That was a question he asked himself over and over. Sure, he'd liked them when he was reading the novel but now… now he saw the truth. The cohort was vile. Hypocritical bastards who always assumed they were right. They cared only about themselves, and maybe a few people they happened to like. That was why so many died in Antarctica. That was why so many fell in the Realm War. And that was why so many more would die here, on this forgotten shore.

He remembered too clearly how Nephis had sentenced everyone who surrendered to Spell to death. The fuck was that? As if everyone were born with divine aspects, like fate had picked and blessed them. He couldn't understand that cruelty and he would never accept it.

There was nothing wrong with living peacefully, avoiding danger, and enjoying life. How could anyone decide who was sinner and who was pure? Fucking bastards.

"Hey, Luna… want to play a game?"

Luna perked up, tilting her head in lazy amusement.

"Sure. I was bored anyway. What game?"

Amon's grin stretched too wide, his eyes glinting with wicked glee.

"How about… playing with fire?"

She smiled back at first. It was bright and childlike but then froze. Her cheer drained away, leaving her dazed, unfocused. A breath later her eyes hardened, colder than steel, and her arm rippled as flesh calcified into living armor.

"You want to destroy the Generous Tree."

…Shit.

Amon's grin faltered. Well, looks like Medici's cover was blown. He could only hope that damn tree would burn before Luna killed him in its name. With a sigh, he summoned his ghostly jian, the blade shimmering green in the gloom.

"Hey," he called, forcing a crooked smile, "do you really think you'll win?"

Luna's gaze cut through him like ice. The warmth they'd shared was gone, swallowed by the Soul Tree's will.

"I will win."

"I know."

Her brow furrowed. "…What?"

And Amon turned on his heel and bolted. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was running away. Truly, he was a master of retreat.