FALLEN HEAVEN

The next morning, the air was still cold as Canis stood silently in front of the small storage shed behind the guild building. His fingers brushed against the old cloth neatly rolled in the darkest corner of the room. The black cloak was just as it had always been—heavy, warm, and carrying the familiar scent of aged iron. With slow movements, he draped the fabric over his body, as if donning an identity he had long buried.

At his left waist hung a sword sheath. The blade, which had served only as a decoration until now, returned to its true purpose. Canis took a deep breath, tightened the strap, and stepped out of the shed.

His beloved horse, Brownie, neighed softly from the stable.

"I can't take you this time, old friend," Canis murmured as he stroked the horse's mane. "I need speed and stealth. You're far too noble to hide in the shadows."

He left no note, no message, and no one knew that on that day, guild administrator Canis Majoris began a personal hunt. Not as a servant of the Empire. Not as an instructor. But as a remnant shadow of an unfinished past.

His first step was the southeastern coast.

A place where the salty wind and crashing waves hid many secrets. There, he would meet someone—an old comrade from his prime. Someone who once stood by his side in battles against monsters.

It had been seven years since their group disbanded. Seven years since they parted without a promise to reunite. But if the Bloodminers were on the move, and if they dared to speak the name Canis Majoris, then one by one, they must return.

And he would be the first to call them back.

The journey through the forest—drying with the changing season—was not entirely silent. His steps were measured, in tune with nature, but he knew there were dangers far more grounded than wild beasts.

A few hours into the trip, right in the heart of the dense woods, a group blocked his path.

Three men emerged from the underbrush, followed by two more dropping from the trees with smug grins. Their appearance was all too familiar—common bandits. Tattered clothes, blunt weapons, and foul intentions reeked from them.

"Look what we have here," one of them called. "A lone traveler with a fancy cloak and a pretty sword. Lucky day, huh?"

Canis stared at them flatly. "Leave. Before you regret it."

"Regret? Ha! What danger are you gonna show us?"

Canis exhaled slowly, turned away for a moment, then responded in a low, almost whispered voice:

"Me."

— Moments later —

Silence.

Corpses lay lifeless on the ground. Some with heads severed from their bodies. No screams, no spectacle. Just the eerie quiet of swift, merciless slaughter.

Canis resumed his walk. His cloak remained unstained. His steps, calm.

But after several kilometers, he stopped.

His eyes narrowed. The forest around him looked ordinary, but something was moving… too carefully. A breath held, leaves shifting too lightly.

He spoke without turning.

"One more step and I'll crush every tree around you."

Silence. Then a familiar voice answered, nervous but earnest:

"Don't kill me, Master!"

From behind the trees emerged a young figure with messy hair and a sheepish smile. Hands raised high as if facing execution.

"Aron…?" Canis frowned, half confused, half annoyed. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been following you. Since the west stone road, about two hours ago..."

"Go back." Canis's voice was firm. "You have no idea what we're walking into."

"I know," Aron replied quickly. "But I also know you don't have to go through it alone."

Canis scoffed.

"This isn't a hero's tale. This is a hunt."

"And if you fall during that hunt, then at least let someone be there to witness it," Aron said seriously.

A pause. The wind carried the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves.

Finally, Canis turned his face away and continued walking without a word.

Aron followed behind. No permission was given, but no objection either. And that was enough.

---

The southeastern coast greeted them with the sound of crashing waves—soft, yet echoing endlessly. The sky dimmed into orange hues, signaling the slow arrival of dusk. This stretch of coastline was no tourist spot. No clean docks or busy fishermen. Just clusters of coral, saltwater, and shipwrecks half-buried in sand and time.

Canis walked with steady steps, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the horizon as if searching for something only he could recognize. Aron followed behind, not too far this time. His breath was beginning to match his Master's rhythm—still difficult, but more bearable.

"This place… what are we looking for here?" Aron asked, bracing himself against the sea breeze slapping his face.

Canis didn't answer right away. But after a few more steps, he spoke quietly:

"Someone. An old comrade."

Aron glanced at him, curious.

"Who?"

Canis paused, his gaze fixed on the cluster of rusted, decaying ships in the distance.

"He's the best energy detector I've ever known. Far beyond Imperial tech or any warrior alive. If there's anyone who can trace remnants of the Bloodminers… it's him."

"Name?"

Canis looked forward. The sea wind whipped his cloak, lifting the black fabric like the wings of a giant bird.

"EASTON!!"

The shout echoed sharply, piercing the hollow silence of the wrecked ships. Aron flinched at the sudden outcry. He nearly asked why the yelling—when something moved.

From within one of the half-toppled shipwrecks came the sound of metal clanging and old wood creaking. A head appeared, followed by a body—a man with long gray hair tied back, protective goggles resting on his forehead, and arms smeared with oil and wires.

He looked toward them, suspicious and ready to run. But when his eyes met the figure in the black cloak—

"…CANIS?!"

His voice rang with disbelief and joy. He dashed forward, nearly tripping over a broken plank, and hugged Canis tightly without hesitation.

"Son of a—you're alive!" he laughed, though his eyes glistened. "I thought you vanished along with your legendary stories!"

Canis said little. But he returned the hug with a single pat on Easton's back—more than enough to show he, too, was glad to see his old friend again.

Aron stood a few meters away, grinning quietly at the scene. For the first time, he felt as if he were peeking into a past that had only ever been told through fragments of legend.

But now, he was there. With them.

{Chapter 13 end}