The night dragged on, colder than either would have liked. The wheels of the carriage creaked softly beneath their feet, moving along bumpy dirt roads, but inside there was silence.
Izumi didn't move, arms crossed, eyes staring out the window, as if staring into the void would bring back something. Miharu sat beside him, fidgeting with the hem of her cloak. She'd met him nine days ago. It wasn't long, but she felt like she'd aged nine years trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.
She swallowed the unpleasantness rising in her throat.
"…Hey, Izumi?"
His eyes wandered a bit. Still relaxed. Still distant.
"Hm?"
"What's… Nauttera?"
Izumi didn't even flinch. "The fifth kingdom. The largest one. It was drowned by Nymrathis."
Miharu blinked several times. "W-wait, drowned? As in underwater?"
"Yeah."
"How large was it?"
"Three times the size of Yamato."
Miharu's jaw dropped. "Triple?! Yamato's already huge! That's… that's impossible—"
"It's not. Monarchs are powerful, you know."
She stared at him for a while, as if trying to read if he was kidding.
Then she reached out and grabbed him by the front of his cloak, shaking him. "We are gonna DIE if we have to fight another one!"
Izumi didn't even blink. "Nah, we won't. Probably."
"Probably?! That's not exactly reassuring, dumbass!"
Izumi just blinked, his tone unwavering. "We've already killed one."
Miharu groaned and fell back against the seat. "God, you're insufferable…"
A few minutes passed. Then, suddenly, a thought struck her.
"…Hey, what day is your birthday?"
Izumi blinked again. "November seventh."
Miharu sat up straight, rigid. "That's five months away!"
"So?"
"So?!" She grabbed him again. "That's when the curse takes hold, idiot!"
Izumi tilted his head to the side a little. "Oh. Right. I forgot about that."
"You forgot?" she screamed.
"I've had things on my mind."
Miharu gaped at him, mouth half-open. "If you turn seventeen and that curse of being marked with a sin will happen, you'll die!"
Izumi shrugged. "I'll try, then."
"…Try?" Miharu repeated slowly. Then she snorted. "Sin of Sloth… trying. That's a funny joke. Isn't it?"
He didn't smile. Didn't react.
Miharu sighed and turned away. "You're really something, Virasat…"
Outside, the moon hung low, casting a pale glow over the carriage as it rode on through the darkness. The woods around them whispered with wind and faint rustling.
Far away, in a stone chamber cloaked in shadow, another scene played out.
A figure was twisted, gaunt and bent over. His skin was cold, pale, and had frost-like veins crawling beneath his eyes. Blackened sockets, hollow and leaking a strange, dripping shadow—opened.
He breathed out, long and rasping.
"I envy those who have the strength to kill a Monarch of Sin…"
A second figure emerged—a hooded man with the mark of the Cult of Omnir branded into his shoulder. His hands trembled.
"S-sir… It's confirmed. The Monarch of Gluttony… Nymrathis Gourvalis… has been slain. By the one marked with Sloth."
Silence.
Then, slowly, the thin man stood. His voice was like air cracking ice.
"Gluttony… dead? Hmph."
He stepped forward, bare feet scraping the stone floor.
"I envy those who devour, and are full."
His hand rose to his chest, claw-like fingers pressing against skin as thin as parchment.
"I envy those who forget. and still recall love."
He stepped into the moonlight, and it revealed a face sunken and dried out, hair silver once but now ash-gray.
"The Sin of Sloth walks once more… how interesting."
The cultist swallowed. "W-what… what do we do, Lord Arvain?"
The man—Arvain, King of Envy—smiled, a horrendous thing that gashed across his pallid face.
"He has forgotten who he is. we will remind him."