Chapter 112 ‒ A Lantern Beneath the Boughs
Chapter 112 ‒ A Lantern Beneath the Boughs
Frank stood hunched over a wooden workbench in the lab, his trembling fingers tightening the final seals on the first completed batch of Purification Bombs. The containers glowed faintly, each one like a tiny captive moon.
Tyler watched silently from the doorway, arms crossed. Frank turned with a weary but hopeful grin.
“This is it,” Frank said, voice raw. “The first batch is ready. Be careful — the dispersal radius is small, so lure them close before you detonate.”
Tyler stepped forward and took the shimmering bombs carefully. Anne moved in next, tossing folded stretchers and rolls of cloth into a bag. Her eyes were sharp, alive with tense energy.
Outside, moonlight washed over Ashborough’s narrow streets. Tyler lit a torch and stepped into the square. The orange glow cast sharp shadows, drawing guttural shrieks from the woods.
Dark shapes stumbled into view — Blightspawns, twisted and bark-laden, shambling toward the flame. Tyler felt the weight of every step, his hand tightening around the bomb.
When they were close enough that he could see the white of their ruined eyes, he hurled the Purification Bomb into their midst.
A muffled crack echoed across the square as pink mist burst out in curling, ethereal tendrils. The bark splintered and shattered, sliding off like burned husks. Beneath, pale human skin trembled in the moonlight.
Anne sprinted forward with a stretcher, feet slipping on bark fragments. She hoisted one limp figure, eyes scanning for any twitch of consciousness. Tyler joined her, helping stabilize another villager as they carried them to the lab.
Inside, Frank immediately took over, dressing wounds and checking pulses. Tyler moved between them, using [Rejuvenate] in emergencies, sweat streaming beneath his helmet.
One by one, villagers woke up.
“Doctor Frank… is that you?”
“You really found the cure…”
“Praise Doctor Frank! You saved us!”
Frank stammered, tears gathering in his eyes. “Don’t… don’t just thank me… You should also thank—”
But Tyler was already gone, slipping quietly out the side door.
---
Tyler moved to a bench near the edge of the square, sinking down heavily. His head tilted back as he watched the moon drift behind pale clouds.
They should be thanking Frank. He’s the one who saves. I only bring ruin and sorrow. I’m no hero… I’m the blade that cuts too deep, every single time.
He didn’t notice Anne emerge from the lab, scanning the square until her eyes landed on him.
She approached softly, hesitating, then stepped closer, peeking around his shoulder.
“[Player]…” she called quietly. No reaction.
Anne fidgeted, her fingers twisting around her sleeve. She shuffled closer, awkwardly shifting her weight.
“[Player]… hey…” she tried again. Still nothing.
Her eyes narrowed. She drew in a sharp breath, cheeks flushed.
“DUMBASS!” she finally yelled, her voice echoing off the empty walls.
Tyler flinched, his head jerking toward her.
Anne glared. “Why are you slacking off when the second batch is ready?!”
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Tyler paused, then nodded. “…I’m ready for round two,” he said, voice low but firm.
Anne blinked, still glaring at him. Tyler pushed himself off the bench with a heavy groan, joints creaking in protest after so many hours of hauling, fighting, and healing.
“Round two… round ten… round a hundred. It doesn’t matter. As long as it means even one more person gets to see tomorrow.’
He flexed his fingers, feeling the raw ache beneath his gauntlets. Every tendon screamed for rest, but he felt a strange clarity.
I’ve swung these arms to destroy. To end lives, to tear down walls, to cut down foes without mercy. But tonight… I use them to carry, to protect. Maybe… maybe this is how I was supposed to use them from the start.
Tyler glanced sideways at Anne, who was fumbling with cloth rolls and satchels. A few stray locks fell over her eyes as she bent forward, and she huffed in irritation, quickly tucking them back.
She’s rough… snappy… but strong. Stronger than she thinks. Maybe that’s why I can’t leave. Maybe that’s why it feels right to stay until the end.
Anne straightened suddenly and caught him watching. She puffed her cheeks in embarrassment and turned away sharply, clutching the supplies to her chest.
Tyler looked down at the torch he still held. The flickering flame felt like a small heartbeat in the darkness, fragile but steady.
I can’t change what I’ve done. I can’t bring back Shindo. I can’t erase Ivory Glen’s tears. But… I can keep walking forward. Even if my hands are stained, even if I never truly belong anywhere… maybe I can still help.
He raised the torch higher, the glow catching on his visor like a distant star.
“Let’s go,” he said again, this time with quiet firmness.
Anne glanced back, caught his resolve, and gave a small, grudging nod.
Together, they stepped into the moonlit square — two shadows carrying a fragile hope deeper into the night.
---
Under a cold starlit sky, they repeated the operation again and again. Tyler led more corrupted villagers in clusters, Anne ran beside him with stretchers, her movements sharper each round despite fatigue biting at her legs.
With each Purification Bomb, pink mist spiralled into the night air, breaking the bark armour and releasing hidden human figures like fragile moths.
Frank worked tirelessly, turning his lab into a makeshift hospital. As beds filled, cured villagers set up cots and lanterns in nearby houses, turning them into temporary wards.
Some newly healed villagers stepped up immediately: a grey-haired doctor stitched wounds by lantern light, a young woman gave water and bread, a man carried crates of bandages.
Tyler and Anne worked side by side in strained silence, occasionally locking eyes before shifting away. They hardly spoke — no time for words, only the rhythm of saving lives.
They repeated this exhausting cycle over ten times through the night and into the next day. Each return, their steps grew heavier, shoulders slumping further.
---
At last, they stumbled to a bench outside Frank’s lab, collapsing like marionettes with snapped strings. Anne leaned forward, elbows on her knees, gasping. Tyler leaned back, visor reflecting the pale afternoon sky, his fingers twitching from phantom echoes of [Rejuvenate].
Anne finally broke the silence. “So… what now? What are you planning to do once all this is over?”
Tyler didn’t answer at first. His head stayed tilted to the sky, moonlight starting to creep back into the evening.
“…I’m not from this world,” he said finally, voice distant. “I’m a human from another world. I told Doctor Frank already… I’ve been hunting divine keys, trying to reach the Creator God. My hope… was to ask Him to send me, and my brother back home.”
Anne’s expression shifted. Her brow furrowed, eyes flickering with sudden, sharp frustration.
“Then… why are you wasting time here?” she snapped. “If you wanted to go back so badly, your job here is done! You should leave!”
Tyler turned to look at her, then pointed at the giant tree standing at Ashborough’s centre — its twisted branches looming even from afar.
“Until I fix that… nothing is truly over,” he said calmly. “The corruption won’t vanish completely otherwise.”
Anne clenched her fists. “But… why? If all you want is to go back to your own world… why go so far for people here?”
Tyler gave a low, tired laugh, his voice almost gentle.
“I’ve made too many mistakes in this world. I hurt too many people… I want to fix what I can before I leave. I want to try to give everyone a happy ending.”
Anne’s glare softened, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Why does everyone deserve a happy ending…?”
Tyler turned to her, as though surprised by the question.
“Because… you, Doctor Frank, the humans here, the hybrids everywhere… you all deserve to be happy,” he said, as if stating a simple truth.
Anne’s eyes trembled. “Then… what about you? Don’t you deserve to be happy too?”
Tyler paused, looking back up at the moon, his visor gleaming faintly.
“Well…” He hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “Seeing all of you smile… I guess… I’m also happy.”
Anne turned her face away quickly, pretending to study her sleeves, as her cheeks turned red. Tyler leaned back, head resting against the bench.
Above them, the moon shimmered in a clear sky, lantern lights from the temporary wards flickering like earthbound stars. Pink vapor curled lazily along the ground, dissipating into the night air.
Anne sat awkwardly beside Tyler, her posture stiff but no longer angry. Slowly, she inched a little closer, fidgeting with her carving knife handle.
Tyler remained still, visor tilted to the stars, a small, almost unseen smile tugging at the corners of his lips beneath the helmet.
The two of them sat together on that worn bench, silent guardians under the watchful moon, as Ashborough began to breathe anew around them.