Markus's shadow stretched longer these days.
His recovery was nothing short of miraculous. What was once a broken body now moved with slow but firm rhythm. Each step carried weight, balance, and the stubbornness of someone who refused to die.
"Okay—right… left… right… left," Iris said beside him, her soft voice steady, focused. Her small demi-cat ears twitched with each command, her white tail flicking gently behind her.
Markus's foot slipped.
"Wha—!"
He caught himself this time—but barely.
"Tch…" he growled. "I had it."
"You did," Iris smiled, bracing his arm tighter. "Again?"
"…Yeah." His crimson eyes narrowed with resolve. "Let's go again."
"One, two, one, two—"
They moved down the dusty path between old storage sheds and patchwork homes. Each step left a faint indent in the dry soil.
Nearby, villagers watched from their porches and benches. Whispers carried on the wind.
"Tch… Still don't trust the wolf," muttered a gruff human leaning on a shovel. "He's got that same soldier stare."
"He's a lot taller now, huh?" said a young demi-cat, brushing her bangs from her eyes. "Must be those wolf genes…"
A group of teenage girls giggled nearby. One was a demi-wolf with a fluffy white tail, cheeks flushed. "Okay, why is he so shredded?"
A human girl whispered, "Do you think he'd teach me sword training…? Just training! I swear…"
Another demi-cat girl hugged her basket tight. "Iris walks him every morning… lucky…"
Markus exhaled through his nose, ignoring the voices—but his ears betrayed him, twitching subtly.
"You hearing that?" he said, eyes ahead.
"Shut up and walk," Iris muttered, her cheeks pink. "One, two, one, two…"
"…Yes, ma'am," Markus says, with a bit of fear in his voice.
"Sorry," Iris said sweetly, her voice calm but firm, "Markus is still in critical recovery."
"No fair!" the human girl pouted. "Stop hogging the hunk for yourself!"
"Yeah!" the demi-wolf added with a frown. "He's practically fully healed—he needs to walk more!"
"You can't just act like he's yours," the demi-cat teased with a wink. "He needs to stretch with proper guidance~"
Iris's tail flicked. Her ears twitched.
Markus blinked. "Uh…"
Before he could finish, he felt hands grabbing at him from all sides.
"H-Hey—"
"Let me support him!"
"I've done training too—"
"Please don't—my ribs—!" Markus yelped.
Iris didn't hesitate. She wrapped an arm tightly around Markus's waist and pulled him protectively toward her. "I said no," she stated, her voice still composed, but now edged with warning. "His muscles are still recovering. He hasn't even been cleared to handle group movement yet."
"But we were just trying to help," the demi-wolf mumbled.
"I get that," Iris replied, still holding Markus close, "but if you pull him the wrong way, his wound might reopen. I won't let that happen."
There was a brief silence. Then—
The demi-cat grinned. "Still sounds like you're just being possessive."
"No," Iris said bluntly. "I'm being responsible."
She turned her head and locked eyes with Markus. "You okay?"
Markus, now partially slouched against her, gave a weak thumbs up. "Yeah… just didn't expect to become a community tug-of-war game."
Iris exhaled through her nose and muttered, "Idiots."
Markus chuckled, watching the retreating crowd of girls. "You really seem to have your hands full lately. You don't have to do it all for me, you know."
Iris sighed and adjusted her grip on his waist. "I'm the best medic in the village. None of us here can use magic, so we had to learn the old-fashioned way. If I don't do it right, nobody will."
He turned his head slightly, smirking. "Oh? Is that all it is?"
A slight blush crept up her cheeks. She looked away. "I-It's not like I'm trying to hog you or anything… But you're right. I guess I do need a break."
Markus snorted. "Well then, I suppose I get another pretty woman to help me with my physical therapy, huh?"
She gave a teasing smile. "You wish."
Then—she handed him off.
To her.
The village elder.
Everyone called her Old Hag or Ball-Sack Face, depending on how suicidal they felt that day. Her real name was Barbra, and she had no filter and zero patience.
"Um… Iris?" Markus stiffened. "This isn't what I meant—"
"Have fun~," Iris sang as she walked away.
"Iris—wait—! Don't leave me with her!"
BAM!
A heavy cane smacked down on Markus's foot.
"RESPECT YOUR ELDERS, YOU BRAT!"
"Agh—Yes, ma'am!"
"Now MOVE YOUR BUTT! RIGHT! LEFT! LEFT!"
"You said left twice—"
BAM!
Another strike, this time to his shin.
"Ow! Y-You know I'm in critical condition, right!?"
"Critical condition my saggy old foot! You're walking, ain't ya!? You call yourself a soldier!?"
The women watching from across the village all flinched.
"Ugh… she's doing it again…"
"I could hear that cane from here…"
"Poor guy… he's gonna end up more broken than when he arrived…"
...
Every day for the past four months, Markus had trained.
Four hours a day—minimum. From limping to light jogging, then uphill climbs, weight resistance, and sparring with village brats who barely came up to his waist. The old hag had put him through hell.
Now, he sat alone on the edge of the hill overlooking the village, sweat dripping down his jaw as he gripped his still-bandaged hand tightly.
"Hah… what a sorry state I'm in," he muttered, exhaling hard.
Below, children with scruffy ears and bouncing tails played tag near the well, their laughter echoing through the warm air. Others picked from the fruit trees just outside the main path, woven baskets slung over their backs.
Despite the crude buildings of scrap and wood, it was peaceful here.
From what he'd learned, the crashed ship's magic stone—the last working remnant of its old core—powered the essentials. It kept their lights on. Maintained air purity. Filtered water. Just enough to survive.
But it couldn't make the planet grow any larger.
Resources were scarce. Disease still claimed many. And the number of living souls never rose above a hundred.
Yet somehow, they endured.
No war. No orders. No death squads. Just… survival. Together.
Markus lowered his gaze.
"…Honestly… I don't want to go back."
That's when it happened.
A tingle crawled down his neck.
His breath hitched. The warmth of the sun was gone, replaced by a sudden biting chill that coiled around his spine.
How dare you enjoy yourself…
A voice.
Low. Cold. Familiar.
Markus's eyes widened. He didn't need to turn.
Because behind him…
A figure stood. A shadowy copy of himself, cloaked in void, expression unreadable.
How dare you.Your family—slaughtered. Your comrades—still fighting. Your friends—mourning.
It leaned close, whispering right beside his ear—
And you? You're resting. Smiling. While the world burns.
Markus's mouth trembled. "I…"
You don't deserve rest. You didn't save them. You ran. You failed. You're worthless.
His hand trembled.
What am I doing here…?I need to get back. But how…? How pathetic…
He stared down at his knees, shame crawling into his chest like a toxin.
I'm worthless.
"BOO!"
"AGHH—!!"
Markus practically leapt five feet in the air, tumbling over himself in a panic.
He landed on his back with a heavy thud, groaning. "Iris! You trying to kill me!?"
"Pfft—HAHAHAHA!"
Iris doubled over in laughter, tears already streaming down her cheeks. Her tail swished so hard it nearly knocked over a basket beside her.
Markus sat up, rubbing his head with a scowl. "What's so funny!?"
"You—! You should've seen your face!!" she wheezed between giggles. "It was like—like you saw a ghost or something!"
He blinked, eyes widening slightly.
Then slowly, he looked away… gaze settling on the shadowy patch where it had stood.
But now, there was nothing.
Just sun. Breeze. And Iris, still laughing like a child who'd pulled the perfect prank.
He sighed and chuckled faintly under his breath.
"…Maybe I did."
Iris stared at him, ears low. "What's got you down?"
Markus didn't look at her. His eyes remained on the horizon, distant, heavy.
"I've been thinking, Iris…" he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. "I'm really thankful. You and the others—you saved my life. You gave me something peaceful for once."
He paused, clenching his hand.
"But I think… I need to start figuring out how to get back."
There was a silence. A soft breeze passed between them.
Then Iris gave a small smile—bittersweet but unsurprised. "I knew you'd say that sooner or later."
She turned on her heel, her tail flicking with sudden excitement. "Follow me, Markus!"
"H-Hey! Wait, what now?" Markus blinked, limping after her.
"Pick up the pace, soldier!" she called back with a grin.
He groaned, dragging his sore legs after her across the dirt path, toward a worn-down shed hidden behind one of the larger buildings. She stood by the doors like she was guarding treasure.
"I got a surprise for you!"
Markus rolled his eyes, arms crossed. "Woopty doo. Is it another old hag with a stick?"
"Just shut up and look!"
Iris grabbed the edge of a massive tarp and yanked it off with both hands—nearly falling backward from the effort.
Dust flew up. Rust clinked. And beneath the tarp was—
"…No way," Markus breathed.
It was his ship.
Or what was left of it.
The hull was crumpled in places, the plating scorched black from re-entry. The wings were half-torn, the cockpit shattered, and part of the engine housing looked like it had been melted from the inside out. But it was undeniably his.
"Iris… don't tell me you dug this out and dragged it here yourself," Markus said, jaw slack.
"I didn't," Iris grinned, brushing her hands together proudly. She pointed behind him.
"They did."
Markus turned.
The villagers were standing just outside the shed—some waving, others beaming with proud, grease-stained hands.
"It was no trouble," one demi-wolf grinned.
"You owe us one!" laughed another.
"Anything for you!" a younger girl giggled, giving him a playful wink.
Markus stared, eyes wide. His breath hitched as a few tears welled in his eyes. "You guys…"
But just as the warmth rose in his chest—shiver.
That cold again.
That bitter, sharp chill danced down his spine like icy needles.
His smile faded slightly.
"…Right," he murmured, shaking it off. "I appreciate this. I really do. But—this thing can't fly. Not like this."
"We'll help," a demi-cat mechanic said, adjusting her goggles. "You saved our future, Markus. So we'll help rebuild yours."
Another villager stepped forward—an older man with a heavy coat and short, gray ears. His voice was firm, yet kind.
"You see… the magic stone powering the village—it won't last much longer. Another twenty years at best. Then… everything ends."
Markus's eyes narrowed.
Twenty years. That's all they had.
He gritted his teeth, then stepped forward.
"…Then I'll figure something out."
He raised his fist high.
"I promise—I'll find a way out of here! I'll find a way for all of us!"
The villagers erupted into cheers, tails swishing, fists raised.
"Does anyone here know how to work on machines?" Markus called.
A few people stepped forward confidently. One human raised an old oil-stained manual. "We've got books. Manuals. Stuff from the ship's crash. Most of us studied 'em out of boredom. We can help!"
Markus's grin returned, firm and resolute.
"Alright, then—let's get to work."