The truck sped down the uneven dirt road, its engine coughing out smoke as it struggled to escape the flames behind.
Inside, Souta gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes wide and focused. Beside him, Ren was still unconscious, the old scarf from Shira wrapped around his neck like a silent promise.
The farther they drove, the darker the sky became. Thick clouds covered the moon, and the forest around them blurred into black streaks.
Souta could still hear the faint echoes of battle behind explosions, the clashing of metal, shouts.
But he didn't dare look back.
He only tightened his grip and whispered, "Hang on, Ren... just a little longer."
Hours passed.
Finally, the trees parted, and in the distance, they saw the city of Sanctum
It was massive, surrounded by towering white walls, gleaming even under the dead night sky.
Giant statues of angels stood at each gate, holding swords and shields, looking down as if judging all who entered.
At the top of the tallest building, a bright golden emblem shined the mark of the Exorcists.
Souta slowed the truck near the entrance, breathing hard.
He shook Ren's shoulder.
"Oi, Ren. Wake up... we're here," he said quietly.
Ren stirred. His eyes opened, dazed at first then sharpened, burning red for a second before fading back to normal.
He sat up, coughing a little.
"...Where's Shira?" Ren asked.
Souta hesitated. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Ren looked out the window.
He already knew the answer.
Without a word, Ren pulled the scarf tighter around his neck and leaned back in his seat.
At the city's massive gates, guards wearing shining silver armor stopped them.
They checked the truck, questioned Souta.
"You're survivors from the west side?" one guard asked sharply.
Souta nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."
The guard looked at Ren suspiciously but said nothing.
Finally, he waved them through.
"Welcome to Sanctum City. May the light of the Cross guide you," he said.
The gates creaked open.
They entered the city and it was like stepping into another world.
Inside, Sanctum City was huge and blindingly clean.
Stone roads stretched in perfect lines.
Towers touched the sky.
People dressed in white robes moved around, praying at temples, buying goods, and sharpening weapons.
Exorcists everywhere.
Old ones, young ones, even children, training with swords and magic.
Souta and Ren stayed quiet, blending into the crowd.
Ren muttered under his breath, "This place stinks."
Souta elbowed him lightly. "Shut up. We can't blow our cover."
They found a small shelter near the lower city a place for 'refugees' and travelers.
It wasn't much a dusty room with creaky beds and a single broken window but it was safe, for now.
That night, Ren sat on the bed, looking out the window.
Beyond the walls, he could feel something wrong.
And held his chest
His eyes glow in the color of red and went normal
Souta sat across the room, looking upon the bloody katana speaking without looking up.
"Ren... If we're gonna survive here, you gotta control yourself," he said.
Ren didn't answer immediately.
He touched the scarf around his neck the only thing left from Shira.
Finally, he said, voice low and rough,
"It's a new environment .... just play along right?"
Souta gave a small, tired smile.
"Yeah we check around in the morning" he said
Outside, the city bells rang midnight.
A new life had begun.
But the blood on their hands would never wash away.