Stonehaven felt even more different after that.
Owen didn't know how to explain it, only that every step felt louder, like the world had slightly turned its volume up. The blade was wrapped and tied across his back, hidden beneath his cloak, yet its weight sat comfortably, almost familiarly, as if it had always been there and Owen was the one who'd been late.
Lysa noticed immediately.
"You walking weird," she said, eyes half-lidded as they made their way down the crowded street. "You hurt your leg or are you just trying to look mysterious now?"
Owen snorted. "You saying I don't already look mysterious?"
She stopped walking and looked him up and down slowly. Slowly. Painfully.
"You look like a guy who's forgotten to walk."
"That's mysterious," he said flatly.
"No, its tragic."
Brunn laughed from behind them, the sound booming and easy. He had two bags of supplies slung over one shoulder like they weighed nothing. "Let the boy have his moment. He's in his era."
Owen turned immediately. "How old even are you?"
"I'm twenty." Lysa said stretching
" And I'm twenty four." Brunn added
" Damn you're old." Owen and Lysa replied together trying to hold back the laughter.
Moments later they arrived at their inn laughing like three maniac to anyone who paid attention to them but to them it was normal.
Owen hated how much he liked moments like these.
That night, they stayed at the inn that smelled like old wood and cheap stew. The rooms were cold, but the common area was warm, and that was enough.
They sat around a low table, plates scraped clean, Brunn leaning back in his chair dangerously far while Lysa counted their earnings for the third time.
"S-rank payouts still don't feel real," she muttered. "We're gonna wake up and the guild's gonna be like 'haha joke's over.'"
Owen rested his chin in his hand. "I wouldn't even be mad. Just impressed by the commitment."
Brunn grinned. "Nah. They know better than to scam us. You don't scam people who walk out of ruins smiling."
Lysa glanced at Owen. "You don't smile."
"I do."
"You smirk."
"That's a smile with confidence."
"That's a smile with problems."
They fell into a comfortable silence after that.
Owen didn't realize when it happened, only that at some point, he stopped feeling like he was borrowing space. Like he had to earn every breath. With them, he just… fit in perfectly as him.
A few weeks later, the guild hall felt different too.
Whispers followed them when they passed. Some curious. Some wary. Some straight-up reverent.
"Manaless S-rank," someone murmured.
Owen hated that title.
Brunn on the other hand loved it. It was like the title was his.
"You hear that?" Brunn whispered loudly. "That's fear. Smells good."
Lysa rolled her eyes. "One day someone's gonna pick a fight just to see if it's true."
Owen adjusted his gloves. "I'll just have to make sure they can't pick a fight again then."
She looked at him surprised, not by the words, but by the crazed smile tugging at his lips.
Months continued folding into each other like pages worn soft by fingers.
Jobs blurred together, but the memories didn't.
Owen woke before dawn most days now—not out of habit or discipline, but because his body simply refused to stay still. He'd slip out while Brunn snored loud enough to scare wildlife and Lysa muttered threats in her sleep, and he'd head just beyond the barracks, blade in hand.
He had learned the forest over time. He stopped tripping over roots and the air shifted when he stepped through it, like it was making room.
When Lysa finally wandered out one morning, rubbing her eyes, she saw him coming out of the forest drenched in sweat.
"You're up early," she said stretching.
Owen sheathed the blade. "Just a quick training session."
"Really?," she replied. "Five hours isn't quick."
She tossed him a piece of bread. He caught it without looking.
That made her pause.
"…You're instincts are getting questionable."
That week they started taking harder contracts.
Not reckless ones. Calculated. Ones that paid well because people didn't come back from them unless they knew what they were doing.
A collapsed ruin crawling with bone-scaled beasts that reacted to sound. Owen learned to breathe quieter than silence itself.
A canyon infestation where Brunn held a chokepoint alone for an hour straight, laughing like a madman every time something tried to get past him.
A rescue mission where Lysa held a barrier together with shaking hands while Owen dragged three injured civilians out, blood soaking into his sleeves, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt for days after.
It all paid off when Owen reached SS+ Rank.
Lysa and Brunn weren't far behind as their skills and capabilities placed them in Rank SS
That night, while patching him up, Lysa said softly, "You do know you're currently the third strongest mercenary in this black rose establishment?"
Owen stared at the ceiling. "I am??"
"Yes."
"That's… interesting." Owen replied
"You're taking it lightly again." Lysa added as she tightened up his bandage
" ACK!" Owen squealed, " I'm sorry. Please stop!"
Owen's body had filled out .
Not bulky. Not heavy.
Just right.
Even the guild clerks noticed.
"New armor order?" one asked.
Owen shook his head. "Just clothes."
"Shame," the clerk muttered. "Would've liked an excuse to stare longer."
Owen tried to hide his reaction but ended up walking straight into a pillar on the way out.
Lysa laughed so hard she had to sit down.
One night, Owen sat alone on a rooftop, legs dangling over the edge, pendant cool against his chest.
He rolled it between his fingers.
Still fog. Still nothing.
But the ache wasn't as sharp anymore.
Below him, laughter drifted up from the street. Life, messy and loud and alive.
For the first time, Owen thought maybe I don't need answers.
Maybe all of this was enough.