A knock sounded on a wooden door, followed by a few muffled noises. Ranpa raised an eyebrow, taking a cautionary step back. All the while, something shuffled towards the entrance.

The doorframe was now filled with Sam, as he breathed heavily.

"What on Errarion happened inside?" Ranpa asked, pointing.

He closed his eyes, sighing in relief. "My younger sister threw a tantrum."

"Over?" Ranpa tilted his head.

"...today's breakfast."

"YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANY MORE!" someone yelled, presumably Paula. Then, the sibling mentioned started crying, and Sam quickly shut the door, giving Ranpa a light, nervous beam.

"Shall we go to the sheep pen?" he asked.

Ranpa smirked, putting the shepherd's crook over his shoulder.

Following grassy paths, ways through flowers, wheat and alike, the two slowly made their way down the Agroste district. The sun was rather calm today. It wasn't scorching, unlike on most days of Gorro, which probably stemmed from the fact that the season itself was coming to an end.

Although the days were still unbearable from time to time, most leaves started changing colours towards more toned hues of red and orange, and the same applied to a few fields of plants they passed through. At times like this, the gravelly road changed into pure, dry, yellow grass, and the clear sky suggested they still had a long way to go.

Ranpa didn't necessarily adore picking Sam up from his house. After all, this meant two hours of treading one way, but fortunately, he took a horse ride, with the only challenge being the 'walking-back' stretch. Sam always preferred walks and Ranpa always shunned him for such, but never spoke too much, since it was the healthier option.

However, even horses weren't without problems, as he had trouble locating the Turon house amongst others. "Screw you, Agroste," he thought, denying its beautiful nature that made at least half of this district look mesmerising. Then again, he didn't know who to blame for erecting a horsestop at least 10 minutes away from the Turons.

Sam huffed, stopping near a wooden pole and putting his hand on the side.

"Did the stuff with your family wear you out this much?" Ranpa muttered, before turning around.

Sam nodded, before straightening up. "Sorry, I can't ask for a day off, can I?"

"I'm not the boss." Ranpa shrugged, looking back at the road stretched before the two, and rubbed his cheek, before treading forward.

"No, you're right." Sam shook his head.

"About?"

"You don't look like you caught an ounce of sleep and you're still there to work, despite it all."

Ranpa tried raising his voice. "I kind of... don't have a choice."

"I can't abandon you, then!"

Ranpa seemed a little embarrassed. "L-Look, I think you already did good enough saving my ass weeks ago. I'd be more obliged to make the favour up to you, Sam." he rubbed his tired eyes. "It's not that big of a deal. I'm fighting for my life here, eh? No matter how much I'd want to give up, there's no other way out of this kerfuffle."

Sam stared at Ranpa before the latter started walking again.

"I could always help you out,"

"You've got family to work for, don't you?" Ranpa asked. "Don't carry a burden if you can't handle the other."

"You know I can always spare some time for you." Sam continued.

Ranpa thought, "Help me?" His unsaid words almost turned into whispers. "How are you going to help me search for something that isn't here? Linno Palski carefully watches my every move outside of my house, making sure that I'm not just screwing around. How long do I keep up this charade of looking for the Demonear if he isn't there in the first place?"

Ranpa squinted his eyes. "No, Sam. I can't you get involved in something-"

Suddenly, Sam's hand landed on a piece of paper hanging from a small nail chipped into the pole they just passed. His gleaming eyes scanned through the text before his bushy eyebrows furrowed.

Sam growled. "Damn it!" he threw the paper down at the ground. "It's all their fault, isn't it? That Demonear, still lurking somewhere in the shadows of Prope Portam, waiting to take another innocent life and blame another!"

Ranpa opened his mouth a little. "A lot of time has passed." he eventually spoke. "How can we be sure that Bancho's death was the work of a Demonear?"

Sam gazed at the drawing of Knrhum's Blade pasted right above the text, exhorting the people of Prope Portam to take action. Then again, most of the responsibility lay on Ranpa's shoulders, as the fellow Paladians had no basis to blame. Frequent house searches rose to fame, every district was scanned, and to this day, Linno believed that the Demonear was still hiding.

The only thing he wanted was a solution and an easy way out of this chaos, while also leaning into blaming the responsibility on someone else instead.

But what if there was no easy way? What prize, salvation from death, or would running this course until the end of your days mean the same thing?

Linno would, probably, never understand. Many leaders in Errarion took their position for granted, as in, they only accounted for its benefits and tried their best to push down drawbacks.

Ranpa had to stall for time and look for a way out of this scenario. Atomu bringing the knife to Saphrith would mean that at least someone out there knew about his innocence.

Sam sucked air in through his teeth. "Mum always told us that Demonears can't be trusted. I mean, think about it, Ranpa." he breathed out. "Why would you want to carry a demon to slaughter other devils? Isn't there a different way out?"

"I don't think so."

"There must be. There's always something you can do, which doesn't have to involve trading your goodwill and fortune to the dark side. I saved your life, and it didn't cost me someone else's." Sam shook his head. "But demons only take. Mum always said that you can never trust them, no matter what. Hell, Atomu wanted to be a Demonear in his teens, but she scolded him for even bringing the idea up." he shook his head. "The evidence is right there," he muttered.

"I'm not..." Ranpa put a hand on his forehead, sighing. "Okay, I think it might be a little more complicated than just that, Sam, but I don't know the full story either," he said.

Sam stood up.

"I know most Paladians don't like Demonears," he uttered. "But what if a demon was at fault, and not the one meant to fight it?"

If Paladians didn't necessarily believe in deities, there was one thing they always agreed on. Demons were always evil, no matter how you tried to portray them. You could make excuses for half-demons or judge humans based on their deeds, but nothing you'd do would ever reach the purest sin.

Then, weren't Demonear the good guys if they fought evil? Fight fire with fire, but then again, fire consumed, and rarely gave back.

Meanwhile, Linno Palski, the mayor of Prope Portam, sat in his elusive chamber, pondering over a letter on a glass table, with an inked pen meant to scribble a reply.

The room, like most royal chambers and whatnot was rather spacious, although it did oppose the sheer scale of the Magnanian Nuil chamber. It only had one window, with tinted, colourful glass distorting the outside garden, as well as an unlit, dusty, golden chandelier, contrasting with the darker grey stones creating the walls.

One side had this massive, cosy, carpet-like blanket hanging on two loose bolts, the second was mostly reserved for a big, red bed, opposing the table, and the fourth belonged to a wooden door, with a few shelves, containing books, candles and some potions.

The mentioned entrance was quickly left ajar, as one of Linno's guards stepped in.

"Sir, the Nuil-"

Linno raised one finger, staring at the half-blank page. The other hand landed in a stash of raspberries, freshly picked a few hours ago by the Oponer family. He stuffed a few into his mouth, chewing loudly, before hesitantly turning.

"I already got his letter, thank you."

The guard straightened up, while Linno gazed back at the sheet.

"But how am I supposed to answer this?" he asked.

"What did Nuil-Tukman write, dear Sir?"

"Aren't you quite curious, delivery boy?" he chuckled. "You already know the contents because the emblem was half-ripped open." he pointed to the envelope. "I can't blame you though. Everyone's on and on about the same thing, in silent agreement."

Linno leaned back on his wooden chair, squinting his eyes.

"I'd say, we're searching too." he grabbed the pen from the side. "Obviously. We want it for ourselves, even if we don't deserve it."

"Why, Sir?" the guard asked.

He wrote a few words down, staying silent for a bit.

He leaned back again.

"This has to be the answer."

***

Lead by Mariam's careful hand, as well as a whisper, here and there, the newly formed stairs around the fresh tree began forming a path, unearthing an opening inside the wood.

At first, things were rather bleak, characterised by an uncertain gloom as they advanced, avoiding sharper roots or branches somehow growing inside the bark. It was cold, but soon, the temperatures took a gradual shift towards a comfortable warmth. Rowan fixed their broken glasses, as they stared at orange light, neatly glowing in the far distance.

The three made their way towards a spacious room, that opposed the tight and somewhat impossible corridors they just trod.

Now, standing in front of... something, they awaited Mariam, as her hands landed on the various roots formed around an object, inside the dented barks.

"It didn't use to look like this," she commented, stepping over to the side. "The roots which guard the tree's heart were old, and a few started breaking."

Rowan raised their eyebrows. "Heart?"

"The Erra Tree is a living being."

"Can it walk?" Chyuuichi asked, with a curious smile.

"Maybe, but I'm not sure about that," she answered, with a smile. "I devoted my entire life, to trying to understand everything that makes this sacred plant so lush and magical, but I'm not sure if I'm ever going to find out."

Atomu gulped a little.

"That's nothing to frown about, however. Wouldn't you call things magical because you don't necessarily understand them?" she asked. "Or... to put it bluntly, if you understood everything in this word, then you'd discover that there is no magic, and everything has an explanation as to how it works." she beamed. "So, I'm willing to rely on that mindset."

Atomu nodded as if the words were directed at the Paladian. Rowan gave him a mean look, and Chyuuichi leaned.

Nothing resembled an actual heart, but a light gleamed from the inside. Roots kept growing and strengthening.

"Could you imagine how boring life would be without a whimsical fairy stepping in and ruining your day? Or a witch, saving your life in one way or another?" she chuckled. "So I'm going to go a little further, and believe in magic myself."

Rowan folded their arms. "There's magic," they muttered.

"Because ya believe in whimsical joy, Rowan!" Chyuuichi jumped up. "Yer much more of a-"

Rowan choked the Mirillian.

"Rowan?!" Atomu seemed taken aback, opening his mouth in fear.

"You say that again and I'm cutting your thick neck in half!" They muttered.

"ROWAN?!" Atomu raised his voice.

Mariam giggled at their bickering, before stepping towards the three. "Reality is essentially based on what you believe in. Sometimes, however, it bends to the mind."

The fearful Atomu glanced at the witch, and she winked back, spotting a beam which never left her face. "It's an undeniable fact that Atomu achieved something to save Orania, but I guess, to save himself as well. I couldn't be more thankful for this change, and I couldn't let you leave without proper bedding."

"Atomu, what did ya do?" Chyuuichi whispered.

"You're slow," Rowan muttered, but Atomu was too enchanted by Mariam's words to focus on their conflicts.

She shone, but her voice seemed to reach more than his mind.

"Bancho left Orania with a gift, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to find something along the lines of what he received." she stepped over to Atomu, who nodded, a little anxious.

"Alright," he muttered.

Mariam closed her eyes for a few seconds, her hands digging under the roots protecting the heart, right as something shone from the inside. She breathed out, as if relieved.

"The Paladian shall obtain an answer to all of his burning questions if even more pop up in his mind." she turned to Atomu. "A figurative way out of any internal conflict, and a physical property which will mend broken paths. You can't change the past, but you can learn from it." she grinned. "But you already know that, don't you?"

He stared into her eyes for a second, before nodding.