As Ronan and Darius descended the steps from Master Garrick Vale's meeting room, the wooden staircase creaked softly beneath their boots. The warm scent of polished cedar and brewed herbs lingered in the air, mixing with the sharper smell of medicinal roots drying somewhere below. Behind them, Master Garrick Vale followed at an unhurried pace, hands folded behind his back, his weathered face carrying a quiet curiosity.
Ronan glanced over his shoulder. "Master Garrick Vale, can you introduce me to someone who can identify rare herbs?"
The old man nodded without hesitation. "Yes, I can. We have an appraiser downstairs. I'll take you to him once we reach the ground floor."
Ronan gave a small nod and continued walking.
Beside him, Darius remained silent.
Too silent.
His eyes weren't focused on the stairs or the walls around them. They stared somewhere farther away, toward thoughts only he could see. Ronan glanced at him once but said nothing. Whatever was circling around inside Darius's head, it wasn't the sort of thing to be pulled out with questions.
Just a few minutes earlier, three more boys had entered the boutique.
Elira, with her bright eyes and practised smile, had greeted them with her usual professionalism and guided them into the VIP waiting room. She moved quickly between guests despite the long hours already showing faintly beneath her eyes.
Moments later, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and a perpetually irritated expression stormed over.
"You should've told me nobles from Aldercrest had arrived!"
His voice hissed through clenched teeth.
Elira lowered her head immediately. "I-I was going to—"
But before she could explain, the doors to the VIP room swung open.
Three boys and three girls stepped out.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
The middle-aged man's face drained of colour. His back straightened so quickly it looked painful, and he nearly folded himself in half with the speed of his bow.
Elira drew in a quiet breath and stepped forward despite the scolding.
"Sir, Ma'am, please wait a moment. Master Garrick Vale is still occupied."
One of the older boys looked her up and down with naked disdain.
"So you let two nobodies go upstairs before us?"
His voice carried the sort of arrogance that came from never being denied anything.
Elira maintained her smile, though her fingers tightened against her dress.
"Yes, but—"
Crack.
The sound split through the hall.
Her body twisted with the force of it before she crashed onto the polished wooden floor. The impact echoed dully beneath her.
For a second, nobody moved.
Blood slowly gathered at the corner of her mouth.
A vivid red mark spread across her pale cheek.
Elira blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her trembling fingers rose toward her face as confusion clouded her eyes. She stared up at them as if struggling to understand what had just happened.
Then her vision blurred.
Tears rolled silently down her cheeks.
Among the nobles, a boy named Tavin shifted.
His fists tightened until his knuckles whitened.
His jaw worked slightly.
But he remained where he stood.
His eyes lowered.
A single step forward would mean defying people whose families stood far above his own. One step could drag his entire family into consequences he couldn't carry.
The muscles in his hands trembled before slowly relaxing.
Then footsteps echoed from the staircase.
Ronan stopped midway down.
He tilted his head slightly.
"Something interesting is happening in your shop, Master Garrick Vale."
Garrick frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Ronan's expression didn't change.
"Just hand over the things we requested."
"We'll be leaving."
The old man blinked in confusion.
Beside him, Darius had stopped moving entirely.
His eyes narrowed.
Among the Aldercrest group, his gaze had landed on one of the girls.
His fingers slowly curled.
The leather around the grip of his sword creaked softly.
For a moment, tension climbed into his shoulders.
Then he inhaled.
Exhaled.
And released his grip.
Not a word left his mouth.
As they reached the bottom of the staircase, the middle-aged man immediately stepped forward, blocking their path.
His eyes swept across their clothes.
Torn fabric.
Dust.
Dried blood.
Marks left behind by battle.
His face twisted.
"Who gave you two permission to go upstairs?"
Ronan stared at him for a moment.
Then he casually flipped a gold coin into the air.
The coin spun lazily beneath the lantern light.
"Your coin did."
The man caught it instinctively.
Ronan looked at him with complete indifference.
"I don't like your currency."
"You can have it back."
The middle-aged man stared blankly at the gold coin in his hand.
Behind them, Master Garrick Vale's voice suddenly rang through the hall.
"What's all this commotion?"
The man visibly straightened.
"Sir, this girl—"
He pointed toward Elira, still sitting on the floor.
"—allowed these two brats to disrupt your schedule. She also made the Aldercrest nobles wait."
Ronan walked past him without even looking at him.
No reaction.
No argument.
Nothing.
He simply crouched beside Elira.
She flinched slightly when his hand touched her shoulder.
A soft crimson glow bloomed from his palm.
Warmth spread through her body like sunlight pouring over cold skin.
The stinging pain on her cheek disappeared first.
Then the split on her lip closed.
The swelling faded.
Even the soreness in her body from the fall melted away.
Elira's eyes widened.
She raised trembling fingers and touched her face.
Nothing.
The pain was gone.
Ronan stood again as if he'd done nothing important.
Master Garrick Vale looked toward the nobles.
"There are still ten minutes before your scheduled time."
His voice wasn't loud.
But the pressure behind it made several of the younger nobles stiffen slightly.
Then he turned toward another employee and handed over a list.
"Fetch everything written here."
"Immediately."
Darius finally spoke.
"We'll wait here."
The employee hurried away.
Elira slowly pushed herself to her feet. Her movements were shaky at first.
"I'll help too."
Her voice was quiet.
Still slightly unsteady.
But there was determination in it.
She gave Ronan a quick look before lowering her head and following after the others.
Meanwhile, Tavin approached.
A grin tugged awkwardly at his face.
"Good evening, Ronan. Darius."
His eyes travelled over their appearance.
"You two look like you've been wrestling bears."
Ronan rubbed his neck.
"Evening."
"Just came back from hunting."
Darius remained silent.
Then a soft voice drifted over.
"Are you... from Windvale Village?"
Darius slowly looked up.
Serenya.
The girl he'd noticed earlier stared at him with trembling eyes.
"Yes."
Her lips parted.
"You... don't remember me?"
His brows furrowed slightly.
"I'm Serenya."
Darius stared for several moments.
Then slowly tilted his head.
"I'm sorry."
"I think you have the wrong person."
"I don't know anyone from Aldercrest."
Her face paled.
"I'm from Windvale too."
Her voice rose slightly.
"Try to remember."
Darius looked at her quietly.
Then his voice softened, almost imperceptibly.
"It's good to see someone else survived the monster siege."
A small pause.
"But... sorry."
"I still don't remember you."
He extended his hand slightly.
"I'm Darius Virelan."
"Nice to meet you."
Serenya's eyes widened.
"Virelan...?"
Her breathing caught.
"Don't you remember anything?"
"Caelen Thorne?"
"Lyrielle Thorne?"
For the first time, something moved inside Darius's eyes.
A faint ripple.
A distant memory brushing against old wounds.
"Yes."
His voice was quiet.
"I remember them."
"They stayed behind to protect the village while we escaped toward the refugee camp in Duskwillow."
His gaze lowered slightly.
"They saved our lives."
A pause.
Then—
"Later... I heard they died protecting their homeland."
Serenya stumbled backwards.
Her hands flew to her mouth.
Tears spilt down her cheeks almost instantly.
Because Darius remembered them.
He remembered them.
But not her.
And somehow, that hurt more than forgetting everything.
Just then, a staff member hurried over, stopping beside the group with practised composure.
"Master Garrick Vale, the appraiser needs your attention."
Master Garrick adjusted his sleeves with a small nod before excusing himself and heading deeper into the boutique.
Inside the appraiser's chamber, warm crystal lamps cast a soft amber glow across polished tables covered with monster materials. The scent of preserved herbs and strange medicinal liquids lingered heavily in the air.
A middle-aged appraiser carefully adjusted his spectacles, studying the materials spread before him with narrowed eyes. His fingers traced along clean cuts and intact hide, his expression gradually shifting.
"These materials—taken from monsters—are in pristine condition."
He lifted the severed moth beast head, turning it slowly.
"The moth beast's head itself has little value, but whoever hunted it knew that already. No unnecessary damage."
He placed it down before reaching toward the deer-like monsters.
"And these..." His eyes sharpened. "The throat cuts are remarkably precise."
His fingers pressed lightly against the wound.
"Very little blood contamination. Minimal structural damage. Usually, hunters are far too rough." He gave a quiet hum of approval. "With material quality like this, we should be able to preserve over eighty percent of the usable resources. Our standard preservation rate is only around sixty-five to seventy."
Master Garrick's brows rose slightly.
Over eighty.
That wasn't simply good.
That was exceptional.
Back in the main hall, Elira returned carrying a small storage ring with both hands.
"Young Master Ronan, here's everything you requested."
Ronan accepted it with a nod.
"Thanks."
The cool metal settled into his palm.
Beside him, Darius suddenly stepped forward.
He lowered his head deeply.
"We're sorry you got hurt because of us."
Elira blinked in surprise.
For a moment, she looked almost flustered.
"N-no, there really isn't any need for that."
Her fingers instinctively touched the side of her face.
The skin there felt smooth.
Perfect.
As if nothing had happened at all.
Darius slowly raised his head before turning toward the Aldercrest nobles.
"We needed those materials urgently." His voice remained calm and respectful. "We meant no disrespect and apologise for the inconvenience."
One of the boys folded his arms and let out a cold sneer.
"Now that is the tone you should use when addressing nobility."
His chin lifted slightly.
"Remember next time."
His eyes narrowed.
"Show proper respect."
Then he smiled.
"Bow."
Silence settled around them.
Ronan's fingers twitched slightly.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
Darius stared at the boy for a moment.
Then—
He bowed again.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No resistance.
No anger.
Ronan frowned slightly.
For some reason, that bothered him more than if Darius had argued back.
Darius turned away before facing Master Garrick once more.
"Forgive the interruption. We'll take our leave."
Ronan stared for another second before raising a hand lazily.
"See you."
Then he followed after him.
After they left, silence hung in the boutique for several moments.
Master Garrick slowly turned toward the Aldercrest nobles.
"Shall we proceed to the meeting room now?"
None of them answered.
Their expressions had become somewhat stiff.
Without another word, they followed him deeper into the building.
Behind them, Elira remained standing quietly.
Her hand rose unconsciously toward her cheek.
Her fingers brushed against smooth skin.
Then her eyes drifted toward the entrance.
Toward the doors Ronan and Darius had walked through moments ago.
The bustling sounds outside leaked faintly into the room.
For reasons she couldn't explain, warmth quietly settled in her chest.
Outside, cool night air greeted them immediately.
The city had begun changing beneath the fading sky. Lanterns flickered to life one after another, washing the streets in soft orange light while crowds continued moving through the roads like flowing rivers.
Ronan stuffed both hands into his pockets and stretched his shoulders.
"I really don't like places like this."
Darius glanced sideways.
"Places like what?"
"Places where everyone smiles while trying to stab each other."
Darius stared at him for a second.
Then unexpectedly—
A small smile appeared.
Rare enough that Ronan nearly looked twice.
"Next time," Darius said quietly, "let's hunt our own herbs."
Ronan laughed.
"Deal."
The sound disappeared into the city's noise as they walked deeper into the crowded streets, neither realising the encounter inside that boutique had already sent ripples spreading outward.
Ripples that would eventually reach far beyond anything they could imagine.
As they made their way back toward the Academy beneath the fading colours of twilight, silence gradually settled between them.
Not an uncomfortable silence.
Just quiet.
The moon hung low above the city walls, silver light spilling over stone pathways and rooftops. Wind drifted through the trees lining the road, carrying faint scents of earth and distant cooking fires.
Their footsteps echoed softly.
After a while, Darius finally spoke.
"Are you curious?"
His voice was quiet.
Deliberate.
His eyes remained fixed ahead.
Ronan glanced toward him.
Then smiled.
"If you ever decide to tell me, I'll listen."
He shrugged lightly.
"Until then, I can wait."
Darius looked at him.
For a moment, something shifted in his eyes.
Then a soft chuckle escaped him.
"Remember what I said back on the ship?"
Ronan's smile faded as a memory surfaced.
"You asked whether it was worth it."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Leaving everything behind for power."
Darius nodded.
"Yes."
His gaze lifted toward the moon.
"And back then..." His voice grew quieter. "I didn't have an answer."
The wind brushed through his hair.
"But now?"
A small pause followed.
"I still don't."
Ronan looked at him silently.
Darius smiled faintly.
"But I've realised something."
His eyes reflected the moonlight above.
"Everyone sees the world differently."
"They all carry different things."
"They all want different things."
His voice softened.
"And I've learned to respect that."
Silence returned briefly.
Then—
"As for me..." Darius looked ahead again. "I never wanted power at the cost of everything."
His fingers tightened slightly.
"I just..."
A quiet breath escaped him.
"...want to be free."
Ronan let out a low laugh.
"Free?"
He looked upward.
"That's a heavy word."
"I know."
Darius smiled.
Small.
Almost distant.
"But I still want to try."
Ronan stared at him for a few moments.
Then his expression softened.
"Then I'll be with you on your path."
Darius looked at him.
No words came.
None were needed.
Without realising it, they had already reached the Academy gates.
The guards gave respectful nods as the two boys passed, but neither noticed.
Their thoughts were elsewhere.
"Good night."
Ronan lifted a hand.
"See you tomorrow."
Darius nodded.
"Good night."
Then they separated.
Each walking toward their own solitude.
Ronan finally reached his room.
He exhaled deeply as his hand moved toward the door handle.
Home.
Finally—
Then—
Something twisted.
Not in the air.
Not around him.
Inside.
Deep within the flame, he carried.
The Primordial Flame suddenly shuddered.
Violently.
A wave of instinctive terror surged through him so abruptly that his entire body stiffened.
It felt like prey staring into something ancient.
Something it should never meet.
Cold prickled across his spine.
Ronan turned sharply.
A boy stood beside him.
Silent.
Still.
Black robes draped over his body beneath a dark cape, his hood pulled low enough to drown his features in shadow. A mask concealed the rest.
Ronan's pupils contracted.
He hadn't sensed him.
Not even slightly.
"The Primordial Flame Core."
The voice was cold.
Monotonous.
Like stone scraping against stone.
And yet—
Ronan's breathing stalled.
It sounded strangely familiar.
Very similar to his own voice.
No hesitation.
No questions.
Ronan immediately touched his storage ring and retrieved the single Primordial Flame Core he had kept.
The masked boy accepted it.
The core vanished into his ring.
"I'm leaving this city for a few days."
The words came without emotion.
"If I need you again, I'll find you."
Then—
From the centre of his chest, a grey wisp of ethereal fire slowly emerged.
Ronan's eyes widened.
The flame felt strange.
Empty.
No.
Wrong.
The masked boy produced a jade pendant.
Crack.
The sound was soft.
Yet the figure disappeared instantly.
No flash.
No distortion.
No surge of magic.
Nothing.
The grey flame vanished with him.
No residue.
No trace.
Only silence remained.
Ronan stood frozen.
"...What the hell was that?"
Then—
A sudden pressure descended from above.
Arnold and several guards dropped from the sky, landing with controlled force.
Wind rushed outward from the impact.
Arnold's sharp eyes immediately swept the courtyard.
"Was teleportation magic used here just now?"
His voice carried an edge.
Ronan stared for a fraction of a second.
Then shrugged.
"No, sir."
Arnold narrowed his eyes.
His gaze slowly swept over the surroundings again.
"Hm."
The old man's brows furrowed.
"Perhaps I'm being paranoid..."
He stood there a moment longer before finally nodding.
"Good night, Ronan."
Ronan swallowed once.
"Good night, sir."
Then Arnold disappeared as suddenly as he had arrived.
Silence returned.
Ronan looked toward the empty place where the masked boy had stood.
The night wind brushed across his face.
But the cold lingering beneath his skin refused to leave.