“Hurry, get in!”
As the signal to retreat rang out, Miryeong shouted.
She alone blocked the front.
While the members vanished into the hole Jincheong had opened in the ground,
Miryeong’s storm wrapped around the wooden palisade and the dust, binding the soldiers’ feet.
“Miryeong! That’s enough!”
At Jincheong’s cry, Miryeong exhaled.
“Right. I’ll check the remaining teams and join you at once.”
Still wrapped in the storm, Miryeong turned toward the inside of the camp.
The members who had escaped outside the camp hurriedly gathered.
Rangnan swept his gaze over their faces and counted their number.
First, they laid down the wounded.
“Abandon the baggage. People first.”
Just then, Muryeong, Aslo, and Hurta joined them.
Muryeong looked at Rangnan and said,
“The Holy Knight is no more.”
Rangnan understood what he meant and lowered his head for a moment.
“As soon as everyone is out, take care of the wounded left in the rear first.”
He pointed out several people.
“Muryeong. Take them and set out first. Start with the wounded who can still move.”
Muryeong nodded.
Without a word, they rose and disappeared into the forest.
Rangnan looked up at the moon for a moment.
A full moon, larger and clearer than ever.
There must have been sacrifice. There must have been a price.
But now—
More than anything, surviving mattered most.
—
Only after the signal to withdraw had faded into the distance did the imperial camp begin to regain the shape of sound.
The fire had not spread.
But the smell of fire remained throughout the camp.
Though no buildings had burned down, supplies had been burned.
Broken wagons lay askew along the paths,
and several tents had collapsed to the ground with their poles snapped.
Grain sacks had been torn open and emptied, and oil barrels, half burst, had seeped into the soil before hardening black.
Someone was rummaging through the ashes by hand to see if anything usable remained.
“Not water there, over here!”
“Bring another stretcher!”
Shouts came and went, but there was no will to fight left in them.
It was merely
cleaning up.
The wounded were scattered here and there in the darkness.
Those clutching their arms and retching,
those unable to make a sound, only grinding their teeth.
And between them were bodies that did not move.
They were the ones covered with cloth.
A gauntleted hand protruding from beneath the cloth had stiffened while clutching the dirt.
The commander was on a stretcher.
Below his knees, he was swathed in thick bandages, and his face was ashen.
The stretcher headed for the medical tent.
Only that tent remained intact.
The lanterns did not sway,
and cloth to catch blood had already been laid on the floor.
Medics were writing lists, cutting wounds, and forcibly stitching the wounded men’s breaths back together.
Unlike the chaos outside, inside it was orderly.
As if it were the last space where order still lived.
When two knights appeared in the center of the camp, between the broken tents,
the soldiers around them stopped first.
Marcel was slower than usual, and that slowness became a weight.
Cedric could not properly raise his right arm.
Blood had dried inside his armor, seeming to tug faintly each time he moved.
Both of their breaths were rough, but what filled them was closer to emptiness than rage.
They caught hold of an officer and asked,
“Where is Sir Adel?”
“That is… the Holy Knight…”
Marcel’s gaze stopped for a moment.
Cedric’s jaw tightened once.
“He has fallen in battle…”
For an instant, no one grasped the meaning.
But in the next moment, the entire air understood.
The remaining knights did not gather.
In the camp where “command” had disappeared, no one could be the first to take responsibility.
Someone stood at a distance, staring only at a collapsed tent pole.
Someone took off his gauntlet and put it back on again, hiding the trembling of his fingers.
It was not only the soldiers who had lost their will to fight.
Someone shouted,
“Clean this up! Set the patrols again! Check the list of remaining supplies and tend to the wounded first!”
Orders were given, but there were no faces willing to receive them.
The full moon was still high.
Its light was impartial.
It did not distinguish victor from vanquished.
But the people in the camp knew.
Tonight, beneath this light, something had ended,
and what that ending had left them was not victory, but only the aftermath.
—
Bido was sitting on the ground.
The red scales that had risen beneath her eyes and on the backs of her hands were already slowly fading.
But the crescent moon on her forehead—
that mark alone remained.
Like ink that could not be erased.
Yeonhwa and Taejin were once again moving among the wounded.
Hands wrapping bandages, giving water, counting breaths.
And Kalen
was laid down to one side.
A cloth covered him, and only his pale face, faintly visible, was caught in the moonlight.
He was too quiet.
Before long, the sound of people approaching could be heard again.
Bido’s eyes widened.
Her body stiffened first.
Her fingertips reflexively searched for her sword, only to grope through empty air.
But what appeared from the darkness
was Muryeong and several members.
Muryeong looked at Bido and the prone Kalen in a single glance.
His expression did not change.
“Now. Move.”
A short order.
“Help Yeonhwa. The wounded first.”
The members immediately scattered.
They knelt, spread out cloth, and checked wounds.
Muryeong approached Bido.
His gaze lingered briefly on the crescent moon on her forehead.
“…What happened?”
Bido could not open her mouth.
Her throat was choked.
Tears and words were blocked in the same place.
Taejin turned to Muryeong and said,
“Muryeong. You come here too and get treated.”
Muryeong lowered his head for a moment.
Then, without a word, he walked toward Taejin.
After that, one by one, the members arrived in teams.
Their reactions were similar.
Their eyes hardened once,
their words stopped once,
and then—
their hands moved again.
Soon after, Mendel and the twins arrived.
“Bido…?”
The moment she heard Mendel’s voice,
Bido’s eyes crumbled again.
As soon as Bido saw Mendel, what she had been holding back burst.
Tears flowed quietly down her face.
Instead of speaking, Mendel came over and knelt.
Then she carefully pulled Bido into her arms.
Even in her embrace, Bido could not close her eyes,
and silently shed tears.
—
Last of all, Rangnan, Miryeong, Hurta, and Ed walked in.
Rangnan stopped in his tracks for an instant.
The moment his gaze touched Bido, his feet faltered.
Miryeong also fell one step short.
It was not her eyes, but her breath that seemed to harden first.
But Rangnan soon turned his gaze away.
He swept his eyes over the surroundings once.
“Is there anyone who hasn’t arrived yet?”
“Each team, check your numbers again.”
Hand signals rose here and there.
No problems.
Rangnan looked over the members lying down or receiving treatment.
Then he lowered his head for a moment.
And raising it again, he said,
“Today, all of you worked hard.”
His gaze touched the place where the wounded lay, and then where Kalen had been placed.
His words faltered once, then continued.
“…There were also grievous losses.”
“Still, today, we did what we could.”
No one cheered.
Even if the word victory could be attached to it,
the price lay far too close.
Rangnan continued.
“The Empire has lost its commander.”
“Its supplies and its forces have also been badly shaken.”
He lifted his head as if indicating the darkness around them and looked beyond the forest.
“At least tonight, any major movement will be difficult. Without reorganizing, they can’t pursue us either.”
“We stay here until morning.”
“Moving the wounded on a night road is more dangerous.”
“Those who can stand will guard the perimeter—”
“The rest of you, rest.”
“That is all.”
Ed spoke quietly to Rangnan.
“I will go to Lady Sienna. And if I see movement from the imperial side, I will signal.”
Rangnan nodded.
Soon, Ed vanished into the darkness.
After that, Rangnan slowly approached Bido.
Miryeong followed one step behind him.
“…Bido.”
Bido raised her head.
The tear tracks had not yet dried, covering the traces of scales beneath her eyes like stains.
Rangnan’s gaze went to her forehead.
The crescent moon.
It still remained, very faintly.
Rangnan steadied his breath and asked,
“Did you hold Tiamar’s sword?”
Instead of answering, Bido dropped her head.
Rangnan closed his eyes for a moment.
Beside him, Miryeong let out a short breath.
“Haah… Rangnan. That… is what I think it is, isn’t it?”
Rangnan said quietly,
“Yes. The clan of the moon. The mark of Moonblood.”
Miryeong nodded, unable to take her eyes off Bido’s forehead.
“Yurna’s appeared on the back of her neck…”
Rangnan lowered his gaze back to Bido.
“How does your body feel right now?”
After hesitating, Bido barely managed to speak with her head lowered.
“…Power keeps coming in. Clear…”
Rangnan looked up once at the full moon and said,
“The door has opened.”
Bido raised her head.
“…The door?”
“Yes.”
Rangnan spoke slowly.
“The mark is not a ‘path,’ but a ‘door.’ Once it opens, the moon’s power comes straight in.”
“Since it’s a full moon now, it’s pushing in even more strongly.”
Bido bit her lip.
Rangnan added briefly,
“Imagine closing it. The place where it’s coming in.”
“As if you’re closing a door and fastening the latch.”
“…I’ll try.”
Bido closed her eyes.
She breathed in, then breathed out again.
‘The place where it’s coming in.’
The spot in the middle of her forehead where a cold, clear pressure was embedded.
She decided that place was a “door”—
and closed it.
At first, nothing changed.
But once more.
And once more again.
Gradually,
the crescent moon engraved on her forehead began to fade.
Like ink soaked in moonlight drying away.
“Hoo…”
Bido let out a long breath.
As the pressure that had been forcing its way in until just now softened,
she felt as though her throat had opened a little.
Miryeong murmured,
“How… did Moonblood suddenly…”
Rangnan looked at the tear tracks on Bido’s face.
“…Awakening is different for everyone.”
He paused briefly, as if choosing his words.
“It requires emotion. And… when that emotion collapses once.”
Miryeong answered quietly,
“It’s similar to Mirkin awakening.”
Rangnan nodded very slightly.
“It is.”
“But this is less about ‘gaining power’… and closer to the vessel that must withstand it being shaken.”
Rangnan looked at Bido’s forehead once more.
“When emotion swells, and that emotion breaks.”
“…That blood awakens.”