The camp breathed in gold.
Late sunlight spilled across worn tents as a knight in full black armor stepped into their circle. Her presence was sharp, controlled, but her smile softened it.
"You've earned five points," she said.
A pause.
"Forty-five more, and you'll be freed. You'll be taken to study for the Kingdom of Dawn. Commander's orders."
Fally gasped. Dawncer blinked, then broke into a grin.
The knight gave a small nod. "Do well."
She turned and left.
For a heartbeat, silence held.
Then it shattered.
"We're getting out!" Fally shouted, grabbing Dawncer's arm.
Dawncer laughed, loud and bright. "You hear that? We're actually getting out!"
Thyssara smiled, subtle at first, then stepped forward. Grenzabell watched, something warm and curious flickering in his chest.
Freedom.
It sounded… real.
He looked at them, at their unfiltered joy, then stepped in.
Soon they were all at the center, laughing, shouting, moving without rhythm or care. Even Thyssara joined fully, spinning once as Fally pulled her along.
Grenzabell let go too.
For a moment, the chains felt distant.
The sky burned gold above them.
And everyone smiled.
Three months passed like a slow forging.
Sweat, missions, mistakes, retries.
Now the same camp felt different.
A female knight stepped into their space again, black armor polished, presence steady. Behind her, a deer lay lifeless, neatly prepared as part of the reward.
"Congratulations," she said. "You've gathered enough points."
Her eyes moved across them… then paused.
A blink.
Then a blush.
Dawncer stood there, shirt half-open, a white short that sat loose at his waist, brown sandals grounded in confidence, a yellow shirt scattered with floral patterns hanging off his shoulders. His physique was visible without effort, like he had nothing to hide and nothing to prove.
Fally waved at her with a bright smile, stepping forward. Grey free pants, black shoes, a plain white shirt layered with gold rings that caught the light. A black cap rested low, sunglasses hiding her eyes, giving her a quiet, stylish edge.
"Thanks for the heads up that day," she said warmly.
The knight exhaled softly. "You've clearly… been influenced. This isn't protocol anymore."
Grenzabell sat nearby, calm and composed. White shirt clean, black shoes grounded, a dark overcoat draped over him, glasses reflecting the light. Gold rings lined his fingers, subtle but present. Beside him, Thyssara leaned back slightly, black hat tilted, brown pants fitted, white shirt simple but sharp. Three gold watches rested along her arms, catching every flicker of sunlight.
She sat close to Grenzabell, eyes locked on Dawncer, smirking faintly as if she already knew how this would unfold.
Dawncer walked up to the knight, flexing slightly as he approached, trying to catch her attention with presence alone.
"So… what do you think?" he said with a confident grin, shoulders squared.
The knight looked at him, smiled politely… then ignored the attempt entirely.
Instead, she began to clap.
Slow.
Measured.
The sound drew their attention back to her.
One by one, she handed out the certificates.
"You've all carried more than you were meant to," she said quietly. "The Commander… is bearing a burden most never see."
Her tone shifted slightly.
"I personally think he's not doing this for order alone. He's trying to give you something rare."
A pause.
"Hope."
Her gaze softened.
"This may be our last greeting."
Silence followed.
Each of them held their certificate of admission to the Dawn Academy.
Grenzabell looked down at his, expression steady but reflective.
Fally's fingers tightened slightly around hers, a quiet excitement under control.
Thyssara smirked faintly, eyes scanning the words like she had already accepted the next step.
Dawncer grinned, slower this time, less loud, more real.
Above them, the world felt bigger.
And for the first time, their path had a name.
The knight moved with quiet efficiency, lifting the deer and dragging it a short distance from the group. She drew her sword, not as a weapon, but as a tool, its edge catching the light as flame gathered along its length. With controlled heat, she began preparing the meat, searing and cutting in smooth motions.
Grenzabell approached, stopping a few steps away.
"Hey… you don't have to go that far. Leave the cooking to Fally. She's quite the cook, you know."
The knight glanced at him over her shoulder, a faint smile forming.
"Oh really?"
She continued working the meat, unfazed, as if testing his words.
Grenzabell folded his arms lightly.
"Do you know where we were taken from… before all of this? Where the slaves were originally gathered?"
Her movements slowed for a brief moment.
"I don't."
A small shake of her head followed.
"I came in during the second year after this camp was established. By then, everything was already… in motion."
She sheathed her sword slightly, still tending the fire.
"If anyone knows, it would be the Commander… or his two lieutenants."
Grenzabell gave a small nod.
"Sure."
He turned his head slightly and called out, "Fally."
Fally looked up immediately, then broke into a smile and jogged over toward the knight, sleeves shifting as she moved with easy confidence. Grenzabell watched her go, then quietly stepped away from the group.
He returned to the edge of the camp and sat down, eyes drifting across the scene until they settled on Dawncer.
Dawncer was already at it again, one-handed push-ups in steady rhythm, body controlled, breathing even, like the earlier defeat had been filed away and replaced with discipline.
Grenzabell stood and walked over.
He stopped beside him, hands in his pockets.
"You know…" Grenzabell said calmly, glancing toward the distance, where Thyssara sat half-reclined, apparently asleep, her hat tilted low.
"Even together… we still can't beat her."
He looked back at Dawncer, expression faintly amused.
"Kind of humbling."
Dawncer pushed himself up from the final push-up and sat back on his heels, jaw tightening as Grenzabell's words settled in.
His eyes drifted to Thyssara, still resting under her hat, calm, untouched by their presence.
Memories followed.
Each match. Each throw. Each loss.
His shoulders loosened with a long breath.
"Soon… I'll be able to beat her."
A pause.
He ticked it off under his breath, voice quieter now.
"Technique… speed… battle intelligence… agility… experience…"
He stopped.
Silence.
His expression shifted, not in anger this time, but reluctant acceptance.
"...Yeah. Right now, I can't beat her."
He glanced sideways at Grenzabell.
"Why are you always laughing and acting weird sometimes, Grenz?"
There was no mockery in the name, just familiarity.
Grenzabell looked at him, then lowered his gaze to the ground.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
When he did, his voice was quieter than usual.
"I don't really know myself anymore."
He exhaled.
"I think I forgot everything… my past, my home, even the faces. I only remember fragments. How to speak. How to move."
His eyes drifted toward the horizon.
"But something feels missing. Like I lost something important… like I lost myself."
He glanced back at Dawncer.
"I don't remember names. Not faces. Not people."
A faint pause.
"Except yours. And theirs."
Dawncer's expression softened slightly. He reached over and placed a firm hand on Grenzabell's shoulder.
"Hey. Calm down."
He grinned, lifting his other hand toward the sky in a loose, exaggerated wave.
"The past is the past, man. Doesn't matter anymore."
His voice brightened.
"We've got the future now. And we're gonna be rich."
Grenzabell stared at him for a second… then let out a quiet laugh.
It started small, uncertain… then grew, fuller, lighter.
Dawncer chuckled along with him, the tension dissolving into something simple.
Together, they looked up at the sky as the sunset spread across it, warm light stretching over the camp, painting everything in gold.
Fally's voice cut through the warm evening air.
"Food's ready!"
Dawncer stretched, then stood, placing a hand on Grenzabell's head and giving it a light pat.
"Don't think too much," he said with a grin. "And go wake Thyssara. That's your job now."
Grenzabell blinked at him, then exhaled softly.
"…You really vibe. Thanks for the laugh."
He turned and walked toward where Thyssara rested.
As he approached, his steps slowed.
He remembered.
Every time someone had tried to wake her.
A punch. A kick. A thrown object. Sometimes worse.
He paused.
Then it clicked.
Dawncer's smirk.
"...You set me up," Grenzabell muttered under his breath.
Still, he stepped closer, cautious, lowering himself slowly.
He reached out… gently touching her face.
Her eyes snapped open.
In an instant, her body moved.
A precise twist. An arm lock. A chokehold applied cleanly, efficiently.
Grenzabell's breath cut short.
"Stop—it's me!"
Her grip tightened slightly.
"Why did you do what I told you not to do?"
"Sorry—sorry!"
She held for a moment longer… then released.
She sat up, adjusting her hat, eyes narrowing slightly.
"...Why wake me?"
Grenzabell pointed toward the camp.
"Food."
A brief pause.
Then she stood.
"Good answer."
They walked back together.
At the center, Lisha the knight sat with the group, the cooked deer laid out, shared among them. Fally was already talking, Dawncer laughing mid-bite, Thyssara settling beside Grenzabell, and Grenzabell himself easing into the moment.
Voices blended. Stories flowed. Laughter came easier now.
For once, nothing was chasing them.
Just food.
Just people.
Just a quiet kind of peace under the fading sunset.