Pairo watched Oruto's retreating figure disappear into the distance, took a deep breath, then resolutely turned and headed in the opposite direction.
Only five minutes later, a tall, lean man with long hair abruptly appeared before him.
"You're pretty quick on your feet for a kid."
Pairo did not answer. He silently drew the twin blades at his waist and held them across his chest, their tips pointed straight at the man.
The long-haired man studied Pairo closely, a satisfied smile curling his lips.
"What did you do to my people?" Pairo's voice was tight with worry.
He was afraid to ask, afraid the answer would be the very thing he least wanted to hear. But he had to ask, because he still held on to a sliver of hope.
The long-haired man's smile broadened. "Nothing much. You should be the last survivor of your clan by now."
The words struck like a bolt from the blue. Pairo lowered his head, biting down hard on his trembling lips as his entire body shook.
As his breathing grew heavier, Pairo abruptly raised his head. His scarlet pupils contracted sharply, tears of blood already staining his thin face, and boundless fury erupted in his eyes.
"Die, you scum!"
Pairo roared and charged at the long-haired man with both blades, pouring every ounce of his strength into each slash.
Yet the long-haired man seemed to have no intention of fighting back. He merely dodged with ease, goading Pairo with his words.
"Don't get me wrong. This wasn't my plan. I'm not interested in your people's eyes, but our leader wanted them, so... your people had to die."
Pairo's fury reached its peak. His blades moved faster and faster, and every missed strike drove him further into a frenzy.
Finally, after leaping up for a downward slash, he landed to find the long-haired man gone.
The instant he turned, a hand clamped tightly around his throat.
Pairo struggled to lift his head and saw an expressionless face, along with the conspicuous spider tattoo on the man's hand.
The powerful grip held Pairo fast. His feet slowly left the ground until he was eye to eye with the long-haired man.
Pairo fought with all his strength to break free, but it was futile.
In the end, all he could do was thrust his blades viciously at the long-haired man. Yet just before their tips reached him, a mysterious force stopped them, leaving him completely unharmed.
Looking into Pairo's desperate, hate-filled eyes, the long-haired man said evenly, "The game is over. Stop struggling. It won't hurt."
He looked Pairo up and down, then continued, "You should consider yourself fortunate. In my hands, you'll gain eternal life."
Before he finished speaking, countless fine needles pierced Pairo's skull like a dense curtain of rain.
At that instant, Pairo's twin blades slipped from his hands. His limbs hung limp, his pupils contracted sharply, then slowly dilated until everything before him went dark.
"A fairly decent work of art."
The long-haired man smiled, slung Pairo's cooling body over his shoulder, and vanished into the pitch-black forest.
"You're back?" Chrollo's voice was calm and steady. He did not look up, remaining focused on the flames dancing in the campfire, as though they held some answer he was searching for.
Nearby, Uvogin and Nobunaga argued over which Kurta Clan warrior had fought most bravely in the battle. Their booming voices sounded particularly grating in the quiet night.
Meanwhile, Machi silently processed their "spoils," her movements swift and practiced. She paid no mind to the bloody scene, treating it as something utterly routine.
Omokage gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, then carelessly tossed Pairo's cold corpse aside. Turning to Machi, he asked, "How's the haul?"
Machi did not look up. She merely glanced at Pairo's corpse out of the corner of her eye, then pointed at him expressionlessly. "Including this one, 127 bodies."
Omokage nodded, then turned to seek Chrollo's approval. "Boss, once this corpse has been processed, could you leave his body to me?"
Chrollo finally raised his head. His gaze lingered briefly on Pairo's corpse before he said indifferently, "Do as you like. We only want their eyes anyway. The rest is yours to dispose of."
Then his gaze shifted to Omokage, and he asked pointedly, "Making your little toys again?"
Omokage smiled faintly and replied, "What can I say? I'm an artist."
A trace of pride and resignation colored his tone, as though he were offering a feeble explanation for his obsession with these seemingly cruel acts.
The sea breeze and drizzle made Valkyrie Harbor especially cold and gloomy in February. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, leaving it dim and lightless, matching the bone-chilling weather.
Pedestrians hurried along the street, none noticing the boy crouched against a wall at the entrance to a dark alley by the roadside.
Beneath the faint, dim streetlight, only the outline of his face could be made out.
Rainwater trickled down his brown hair and dripped onto his already soaked coat.
Oruto stared unblinkingly at the blood-red crystal in his hand, then clenched it tightly and closed his eyes.
He was afraid someone would see his eyes beginning to turn red.
Clink.
A man with long white hair walked past and dropped a copper coin worth 500 Jenny in front of Oruto. Without pausing, he disappeared down the dim little street.
Oruto used the 500 Jenny to buy a steaming hot meal at a nearby restaurant, hoping to drive the chill from his body.
When he pushed open the restaurant door and stepped onto the street, the rain had stopped.
He shook out his half-dry hair and decided to sneak into the harbor and stow away aboard a cargo ship to escape to the next city for free. This was not the first time he had used this method.
This time, however, his plan fell through.
Several burly men guarded the gangway, supervising the dockworkers as they loaded cargo.
With no other choice, Oruto slipped into a large crate filled with cannonballs while the workers were distracted.
At the captain's command, the sails rose.
Oruto felt relieved that he had managed to pull it off yet again.
But the sea was far from calm that night. Huge winds and waves tossed the entire ship like a leaf in the raging surf. Oruto suddenly felt himself go airborne, and before he could understand what was happening, he and the crate of cannonballs had been hurled into the sea.
Oruto struggled to kick the boards free, but his strength was greatly diminished underwater, and the crate's lid would not budge.
Just as he was about to give in to despair, he finally managed to kick the boards loose.
By then, however, Oruto had exhausted all his strength. His gaze slowly lost focus, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
Meanwhile, in the world of Blue Star, Cheng Xia happened to plunge into the underwater abyss at that very moment.
The point where the two worlds intersected seemed to align in that instant, forming a mysterious and powerful connection.
A vortex formed from water droplets spun wildly, tugging at Cheng Xia's consciousness before dragging it into endless darkness.