Keiser's other senses sharpened, compensating for the temporary loss of his vision.
He heard Lenko shouting, a girl's voice—likely the princess—cursing, and the chaotic clashing of steel. Rough hands continued to drag him, each tug jerking his half-healed body in conflicting directions. He gritted his teeth, the pain flaring as he stumbled, disoriented, while shouts and orders rang around him like war drums.
"Where are the others?"
"Upstairs—the girl's armed!"
Someone shoved him forward, and he fell hard to his knees. Wooden planks met his skin—floorboards, splintered and cold. Still within the inn, but likely a different room.
He tilted his head, straining to listen.
Whimpers. Hushed voices.
Children.
Young ones.
Their soft cries and frantic whispers reached him from somewhere nearby—tucked into the corners or behind overturned furniture. Fear coated the air thicker than dust.
"Where is he?"
Keiser heard footsteps approaching—several of them—heavy and deliberate. Voices murmured, some hushed, others impatient. His body tensed.
Suddenly, a rough hand seized his chin, jerking his head to the side. Keiser flinched, grimacing as the hot breath of the man invaded his space. It reeked—stale and sour.
Instinctively, Keiser tried to pull away, but the grip on his jaw tightened painfully.
"Are you sure it's this kid?" the man barked, speaking past him, addressing someone behind.
"Y-yes, sir. Taf said the kid used mana. The cow they sold… it had sigils carved into it," the one gripping him answered, voice trembling.
The first man let go of Keiser's chin, stepping back slightly.
"His eyes aren't red, though, are they?" he asked, suspicious.
Keiser said nothing. Blinded, he couldn't tell what they were seeing—or what they were looking for.
"N-no, sir. But Taf swore he saw them red."
There was a sharp crack—the unmistakable sound of something striking flesh. Keiser heard a gasp, followed by a choked whimper. Someone had just been hit.
"Is Taf the one I gave orders to?" the man growled, voice low and dangerous. "Was he the one I told to bring me the red-eyed boy?"
Keiser could hear the footsteps start to pace. The man was moving—stalking around like a predator circling prey.
"How about those two? The girl's pretty skilled—you sure she's not a mercenary?" one voice asked.
Keiser exhaled slowly, trying to keep his breathing steady. Three minutes...
"The girl's just a thief," another responded, dismissive. "She's been sneaking around, stealing from villagers and travelers. It's been hard hitting our quota because of her. As for the other boy—he comes by often, trading goods. I think they live in the forest."
Keiser's frown deepened.
So they had been watching them—not just Lenko, but Princess Yona as well. And she'd been stealing? Why would she—?
His thoughts stalled.
'Hard to get our quota,' they had said. That phrasing—
They were abducting people.
Is that why people were disappearing?
Anyone who came into the village or wandered near it.
How about the villagers? Is that what the quota was for.
His gut twisted. A dark, sickening confirmation was building in his mind—and he was running out of time.
Fifteen minutes, he reminded himself. It's almost up.
He needed to move.
Keiser held his breath.
His eyes were still blinded, but that only sharpened his focus. He reached inward—toward the mana. He didn't understand how it worked, not exactly. But Muzio's body could wield it, and somehow, it responded to Keiser's will with frightening ease. These people didn't know that. They didn't know he didn't need to draw sigils or carve runes. He didn't need incantations or tools.
All he needed was intent.
The sound of clashing steel rang out, closer now. The shouting grew more frantic.
"Shit! You said you had it under control!" someone yelled.
"We—we do!"
"Get the outsiders into the wagon! This won't be enough. We'll probably have to round up your people again."
"No, wait—wait, we could get those two kids. There's more like them, outsiders. And this one—"
A hand clamped onto Keiser's shoulder, another grabbing at his arm to haul him to his feet.
"This one's got more mana than any we've seen!"
The last piece of the puzzle slid into place. The image was clear now—and it was uglier than he imagined.
Mana harvesting. Abductions. Forced quotas.
And they were planning to use him—them next.
Keiser's fingers twitched.
They had no idea what kind of mistake they were making.
Keiser's hand clamped onto something—he wasn't sure what. An arm? A hand?
"Ahhh—fuck, what is this?!"
The scream confirmed it. Whoever had grabbed him now bore the brunt of the sigil. He felt the jolt as they shoved him away, lost his balance, and stumbled—still blind, still disoriented. The sudden sense of falling twisted his stomach, but he thrust his hand forward instinctively. The moment it made contact with something solid, he didn't hesitate.
His palms burned.
He was ready to ignite the entire room—to burn it to the ground and reduce everything to ash. But he stopped himself.
He wasn't alone.
From the voices, from the whimpers, he knew: women and children were here. They weren't the only ones taken. And they wouldn't be the last.
So he changed his approach.
He didn't need sight. He had memory.
Keiser remembered Gideon's sigils—those runes that twisted steel and shadow alike, that made his own sword move against him, plunging into his flesh. Back then, he couldn't read them. He had been Keiser the knight—strong, loyal, but blind to mana, to the fluid language etched in light and pain.
But now…
Now he has Muzio's body. Muzio's mind. Muzio's mana.
And that mana listened. That was enough.
His fingers seared with magic.
The room went still.
***
Keiser panted, slumped against what he assumed was a wall. The world around him had fallen into eerie silence, but the searing pain in his hands and eyes lingered—like they'd been plunged into boiling water.
"Muzio!"
Hands suddenly pressed against his face and shoulders—familiar, intrusive, and irritating in a way he recognized. But still—better than the ones that had dragged him through before.
"Young lord, your eyes… did they do this to you? Why are they… gone?" Lenko's voice trembled with worry.
Keiser groaned and pushed the boy's hands away. "It's fine. It's an illusion—mostly. Could you get me the elixir from your bag?"
He heard light, quick footsteps approaching, followed by a sharp gasp. The princess.
"Did they do this to him?" she asked, voice tight with fury. Keiser couldn't see her, and he didn't catch Lenko's response—if there was one—but he did hear her curse under her breath.
Then Lenko returned and pressed something into Keiser's hand. "This?" he asked uncertainly.
Keiser wasn't sure—he couldn't see. But he remembered. He remembered seeing bottles of medicine in Lenko's satchel, and one in particular labeled as an elixir. It was the same one he'd taken, the one that could blind temporarily—and the one he was confident could be reversed.
Guided by touch alone, he uncapped the bottle and tilted it toward his face. Lenko, cautious but helpful, gently assisted him. Keiser let out a shuddering sigh of relief as the cool liquid touched his burning skin. His hands, now marked with fresh runes, seared again—this time with purpose.
He pressed them over his eyes, muttering, "Bring-back-what's-lost."
Pain exploded behind his eyelids—a numbing, reforming pressure, like molten glass cooling into shape. He recognized the runework. Aisha's. He'd seen her use it before, cruelly, during interrogations. The same methods she used to blind captured assassins, then restore their vision only to blind them again. It wasn't just torture. Aisha had enjoyed it.
That memory remained scorched into his mind. Aisha, laughing with an eerie smile while a man screamed and wept, begging for death.
Keiser endured the pain in silence.
"Is he all right now?"
As Keiser's vision gradually sharpened, the blur receding, he lifted his gaze to find Lenko leaning over him, clutching the empty bottle. The boy looked disheveled, with bruises mottling his cheeks and fresh cuts along his forearms, yet otherwise seemed unharmed.
The princess stood farther back in the room, her cloak discarded and her blades secured at her waist. Though scuffed and worn, she bore no visible wounds. She was focused on the frozen figures before her—men caught mid-scream, mid-stride, and mid-panic. Some were suspended almost falling, arrested in their motion by the magic that still held them.
Keiser's eyes drifted to his side, where a group of children huddled with a few women in the corner, likewise frozen in time.
"What happened here?" Lenko asked, while Keiser was brushing his hair away from his stinging eyes. "While I was locked in combat, those men suddenly fled." Princess Yona narrowed her eyes at him.
He squinted back, still feeling the sting of his recovering sight. "I think… I know what the problem is."