Two days after the hunt.Rem and Guts were on their way back to Roswaal's mansion.They had completed their mission.The White Whale was dead. The fight, at last, was over.Maybe now, for a while, they could taste peace. Rest.
Guts was far from the capital.And he believed — yes, he dared believe — that he would find the quiet of the mansion again.That calm he had once despised.Now, he wanted it back. That calm wasn't so bad.
This world wasn't his. But it wasn't any gentler.A bit brighter, perhaps.But the darkness of this world existed too. And it was very real.
They rode on a wagon lent by the Hoshin Company.The cobbled roads leading to the villages passed beneath their wheels.Rem knew the way by heart.They didn't talk. Or very little.The fight had drained them.
At the back of the carriage, Guts slept — or at least, rested with his eyes closed.Rem held the reins of the earth dragon.And she was happy.She knew now.She wanted to live. For him. For Guts.
Because she had understood.He was a good man.
He was different from the others.He didn't speak to charm. He didn't dream of a golden future.He was honest. Broken. Quiet.He chased no dream. No glory.He moved forward, simply, because he had no other choice.
She saw herself in him.She too had no place in this world.And yet, she acted. She fought.
She smiled at that suspended moment between them.She would sometimes glance back at him.And there he was… lying still, eyes closed, almost at peace.
The silence lingered.Only the sound of wheels on stone, and the steady breath of the earth dragon, marked their pace.
But slowly, something changed.Rem frowned slightly.She couldn't say exactly what… but the air felt different.Not colder. Not heavier. Just… wrong.
The forest had lost its sounds.No birds. No wind. Even the leaves seemed frozen.The sky, though clear, looked duller.
She gently pulled the reins.The wagon slowed. Then stopped.
A dull beat echoed in her chest.It wasn't fatigue. Nor fear. It was… intuition.Something wasn't right.
She looked back.Guts was still asleep, arms crossed over his chest, black cape folded over him.He looked calm. Too calm.
Rem hesitated.Then, in a soft voice, she called:
Rem (gently):"Guts… wake up."
No answer.
She stepped down, approached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Rem (more insistent):"Guts… You need to wake up. Something's… wrong."
He opened one eye. Slowly.His gaze took a moment to adjust to the light. Then he fixed it on Rem.
Guts (hoarse voice):"What is it…?"
She didn't answer right away.She scanned the trees around them. The path ahead. The sky above.
Rem (quietly):"Do you feel… something?"(Pause)"The mansion… it's not like before."
Time skip
The wagon moved slowly down the stone road, rocked by the heavy steps of the earth dragon.The familiar silhouette of the village finally appeared on the horizon.
But something was wrong.No sound.No children laughing.Not even a dog.
Just silence. Too full. Too heavy.
Rem frowned. She instinctively tightened the reins.Guts opened his eyes.A breath.A shiver.
The air carried a scent he knew too well.Blood.But not the warm kind from a battlefield.The heavier, sour stench of an old massacre. Of silence after screaming.
He sat up slightly. Said nothing.
They passed the village gate. The houses were intact. No flames. No ruins.But no one was there.
Then Guts turned his head.Behind a barn, half-hidden… bodies.Piled up.Twisted.Small and large. As if emptied of their humanity.
He stared at them. For a long time.Without a word.
Rem, beside him, tried to turn around.But his hand stopped her cold.
Guts (deep, firm voice):"Keep going."
Rem (shocked):"What…?"
Guts (still facing forward):"Don't look."
He hadn't shouted.But there was nothing soft left in his voice.
Rem tightened her grip on the reins. Her heart pounded. A cold dread tightened her throat.
The calm of the mansion — she no longer felt it.The world had changed.And something… was waiting for them there.
They went on in silence.
The path back to the mansion felt longer than before.Darker.Emptier.
And yet… everything was intact.The gates weren't broken.The trees swayed gently in the wind.The stones on the path to the Mathers estate were just as clean as they remembered.
As if nothing had happened.Or rather: as if everything had already ended.
The wagon stopped.Rem got down first, slowly. Guts followed.Their steps crunched on the white gravel.
In front of them, the mansion stood tall. Unmoving.Almost peaceful.
But the air… had nothing peaceful in it.The wind carried a scent of ash. And flesh.
Rem's hand clenched her morningstar.Guts said nothing — his sword still sheathed, but every nerve taut like a drawn wire.
They moved closer.Then, a few meters from the door… they saw them.
The bodies.Black silhouettes, shirtless, hooded — strewn across the flower bushes.Limbs torn. Faces frozen in ecstatic grimaces.Cultists.Of the Witch.Broken.Shredded.Slaughtered before even reaching the door.
Rem stopped.Guts, however, kept going.His gaze fixed on the closed door.
He placed a hand on the handle.Then turned slightly toward Rem.
Guts (calm, grave):"Get ready."
And the silence… continued to swallow them.