Chapter 2 – The Road to Mizukaza

  (Arata’s Escape Begins – Festival Night in Honfaza)

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  The Night of the Festival

  The distant sound of laughter and music filled the air, carried by the night breeze. The town of Honfaza was alive with celebration, bright lanterns casting golden light over the streets.

  People danced, vendors called out their specials, and children ran through the festival grounds, their faces full of excitement. The scent of roasted meat, sweet pastries, and spiced wine wafted through the streets.

  No one knew.

  No one knew that only a short distance away, beyond the town’s edge, a massacre had taken place.

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  The House on the Outskirts

  The small house stood alone, nestled between the trees on the outskirts of Honfaza, far from the festival’s noise. A simple home—one built for a mother and her child.

  But now, it was silent.

  Blood pooled across the wooden floor. The scent of iron clashed against the fresh evening air, staining the peaceful night with the stench of death.

  The door hung open, swaying slightly in the wind.

  The battle was over.

  And beneath the floorboards—Arata still hadn’t moved.

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  The Aftermath of the Raid

  His body refused to function.

  He wasn’t sure how long he had been lying there. His mother’s voice still echoed in his ears. The sounds of the fight, the clash of metal, the desperate gasps of breath—all of it played over and over again.

  And the blood.

  The blood was everywhere. Soaking into the wood. Staining his hands. His arms. His face.

  It was her blood.

  A sharp tremor ran through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling in on himself.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "If I stay here… maybe I’ll wake up."

  "Maybe this is a bad dream."

  But when he opened his eyes—nothing had changed.

  His mother was still dead. The knights were gone.

  And he was alone.

  A lump swelled in his throat. He swallowed it down.

  He had to move.

  With slow, stiff movements, he pushed himself up, his arms trembling. The floorboards creaked beneath him as he crawled out of his hiding spot.

  The first thing he saw was her body.

  His breath hitched.

  His mother lay where she had fallen, her once-bright eyes now dull, staring at nothing. Her blood had dried along the floor, marking the place where she had made her last stand.

  A piece of her necklace had slipped from her neck, its once-pristine silver now streaked with red.

  Arata reached forward, his hands shaking as he took the bloodstained necklace and clutched it to his chest.

  "I won’t forget."

  He wiped at his face with his sleeve, smearing dried blood across his cheek.

  Then, with a deep breath—he turned toward the door.

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  The Exit – Making Sure No One Sees Him

  The night air hit his skin like a cold slap.

  His bare feet stepped into the dirt, leaving faint imprints as he moved toward the side of the house. His body felt light and empty like he wasn’t even fully there.

  He moved instinctively, carefully, like an animal trying not to be seen.

  The trees rustled faintly, the wind carrying the distant laughter of festival-goers.

  He peeked toward the town—still too far to see him.

  Good.

  The main road leading into Honfaza was too risky—the knights might still be around. But the woods behind the house led toward the western path.

  That was his way out.

  His small hands gripped the wooden wall of his home one last time. His breath shook, his fingers tightening for just a second—then he let go.

  And without looking back, he ran into the forest.

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  The Road to Mizukaza

  The festival music faded behind him.

  The further he ran, the more the world seemed to swallow him whole. The night stretched endlessly ahead, the trees towering like silent watchers.

  The cold wind stung his skin. His stomach growled. His legs ached from exhaustion.

  But he didn’t stop.

  He couldn’t stop.

  The words his mother told him replayed in his mind.

  "Find Zetsubo. Go to Mizukaza. He will take care of you."

  So he kept running.

  Through the thick brush. Over twisting roots. Past the whispers of the wind.

  Until finally—

  A faint glow on the horizon.

  Mizukaza.

  He stumbled forward, his body on the verge of collapse, but he forced himself to keep walking.

  Dawn’s light stretched across the rooftops of Mizukaza, bathing the city in a soft glow. Arata tightened his grip on his mother’s necklace. He had made it. This place… it had to be his new home.