But it wasn't fear of Nujah.

It was the Serekhka darkness she sensed clinging to him.

She moved quickly, trying to heal him — but Nujah drew his sword and blocked her approach.

> "Stay where you are, sister," he said calmly.

Before Maria could respond, he added:

> "Not even our mother has the power to fix this.

I'm sorry if it sounded like I was underestimating you...

but I don't know what kind of side effects this has — not in this state.

And especially not with you so close."

He took a breath, steadying himself.

> "There's only one thing you can do to help me now.

Do what Mother did.

Tell me where the others are."

His voice cracked, sharp with urgency:

> "Where are Herinhard, Mabaka, and my daughter — Mitra?!"

Maria dropped to her knees, as if her strength had left her.

Her hands were still trembling.

Her voice came out cracked, trembling — but before any words could leave her lips, she broke into tears.

> Crow muttered from the side, a bit uneasy: "Bit harsh, don't you think, Boss?"

Nujah closed his eyes, his damaged skin flexing with strain. Then he shouted again — more to himself than to her:

> "Fine! I'll find them myself!

Just stay with her until I return!"

Maria reached out, her voice trembling as she shouted: 

> "Don't go—"

But the door slammed shut behind him.

---

> Crow:

"Him shouting at you… that wasn't your fault.

It's just… what's inside him doesn't fit in any cage yet."

> Maria:

"But I… I did nothing to build that cage.

It was easy to stay silent while he was gone.

But now I see…

silence was the deepest betrayal."

---

After a long conversation, Nujah glanced around the room with a smile.

> "We're leaving, Crow."

Maria, now calm, stood to follow — but Nujah turned, his tone firmer:

> "Not you, princess. Not this time."

Just then, the ship creaked beneath them.

A low, resonant sound echoed from above — like thunder twisted into song.

A portal.

Massive.

Cracking open like the sky had split.

Nujah smirked.

> "Ah... the Queen's here."

"From here on, I'll leave you to her."

Behind them, the crow tried to sneak away — inching toward the shadows.

But before it could vanish — a blur.

In an instant, the bird was caught, pinned awkwardly against Nujah's left forearm.

He gently raised his other hand, brushing his fingers over the crow's feathers.

> "You don't get the same privilege as Maria, Crow."

His voice was soft — almost kind — but laced with warning.

Then — the sky cracked open again.

From the shimmering portal above, golden-blue light spilled through the ship's planks.

The air changed. Something regal… something ancient arrived.

Nujah looked up, then knelt.

His voice, this time, was reverent — almost childlike.

> "Our little queen… I leave her to you."

"Mother."

A breeze curled around Maria, lifting strands of her hair, as if recognizing her.

Nujah stood again, turning his head slightly — not toward Naraka, but to the horizon.

> "If you find it in your heart to send me to the old kingdom of Arthur… I wouldn't mind."

"I've always wondered what it would feel like to walk there… after a hundred years."

He smiled.

But it was the kind of smile that never touched his eyes.

---

Naraka crossed her arms, her voice sharp with restrained fury.

> "Why shouldn't I?"

As her words echoed, soldiers stormed into the chamber, their armor clanking with purpose.

Maria stepped forward, gave a silent nod.

The guards took her by the arm — not roughly, but with finality.

She was being taken back.

To the kingdom.

To her throne.

A brief exchange passed between Naraka and Nujah — full of tension, but not without care.

A mother and a son.

Angry.

Still connected.

Naraka raised her hand.

A golden portal began to bloom behind her, vast and swirling like the eye of a divine storm.

Nujah gave a slow bow.

> "Take care of her, Mother.

She may not look it… but she's still your little queen."

He turned, stepping toward the light —

but just as his foot touched the portal's edge—

A thin golden flame cracked through the air.

It struck him across the back like a whip of sunlight, igniting every nerve.

He screamed — silently — and stumbled forward...

...falling.

He dropped like a stone through the sky —

off the ship —

into the ocean below.

Just before he hit the water, a voice rang out:

> "That was for Vercurius, SILLY!"

It was dumb.

Pointless.

But it stuck.

He crashed into the sea, vanishing beneath the waves.

A moment passed.

Then — a caw.

The crow fluttered to the edge of the deck, peering down with a grin.

> "Oof. Someone really got toasted.

Hey, next time — maybe don't say goodbye so dramatically, huh?"

There was no answer.

Just waves.

And silence.

But Nujah didn't speak.

He didn't protest.

Because deep down, he thought:

> I deserved that.