The village did not sleep that night.
Lanterns burned long after midnight.
Doors remained closed.
Windows stayed locked.
Whispers traveled through the streets like cold wind.
Fear had settled over Grey Hollow.
And it refused to leave.
Inside the small storage house, silence filled the room.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Unavoidable.
Arin lay on the bed, wrapped tightly in blankets.
His breathing was slow.
Steady.
But weak.
The exhaustion from the power surge had drained him completely.
Every muscle in his body felt empty.
Every movement felt distant.
Beside the bed, the knight sat quietly.
His sword rested across his knees.
His eyes remained fixed on the boy.
Watching.
Waiting.
Guarding.
Hours passed.
The fire in the hearth burned low.
The room grew colder.
Then—
Arin's fingers twitched.
The knight leaned forward immediately.
Alert.
Focused.
The boy's eyelids fluttered slowly.
Then opened.
Dim lantern light filled his vision.
Blurry at first.
Then clearer.
"Where…" he whispered.
The knight exhaled softly.
Relief washing over him.
"You're safe," he said.
Arin blinked slowly.
Confusion clouded his thoughts.
Then—
The memory returned.
The hunters.
The pressure.
The explosion.
The villagers staring.
Fear tightened in his chest.
"Did I hurt anyone?" he asked quickly.
The knight shook his head.
"No."
Relief spread across the boy's face.
But it did not last.
Because the knight's expression remained serious.
Too serious.
"What happened?" Arin asked.
The knight stood slowly.
His movements deliberate.
Measured.
Heavy with meaning.
"The village saw your power," he said.
Silence followed.
The words felt heavier than any weapon.
Arin's stomach tightened.
"They're afraid of me," he whispered.
The knight did not answer.
He did not need to.
The truth was already clear.
Outside—
Footsteps echoed across the dirt road.
Soft.
Careful.
Hesitant.
A knock sounded at the door.
KNOCK.
Both of them froze.
The knight reached for his sword.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Then he opened the door.
An elderly woman stood outside.
The same woman who had once brought them food.
Her face looked tired.
Worried.
Sad.
She did not step inside.
She simply looked at the boy.
For a long moment—
Neither of them spoke.
Then she sighed.
"You must leave," she said.
The words were gentle.
But final.
Arin felt something break inside his chest.
"This is our home," he whispered.
The woman shook her head slowly.
"It was," she replied.
Her voice trembled slightly.
Not with anger.
With fear.
"Those men will return," she continued.
"And next time…"
She hesitated.
"They will not leave."
Silence filled the doorway.
Heavy.
Painful.
Real.
The knight nodded once.
He had already reached the same conclusion.
"We will be gone before sunrise," he said.
The woman's shoulders relaxed slightly.
Relief mixed with sadness.
She looked at the boy one last time.
"Stay alive," she said softly.
Then she turned and walked away.
The door closed slowly behind her.
Silence returned.
Arin stared at the floor.
His chest felt tight.
Heavy.
Empty.
He understood now.
Power had saved him.
But it had also taken something from him.
A home.
The knight moved toward the small wooden chest in the corner.
He opened it quietly.
Inside were only a few belongings.
A cloak.
A knife.
A water flask.
Simple supplies.
A life reduced to survival.
He began packing without hesitation.
Efficient.
Focused.
Prepared.
Arin watched silently.
Then asked:
"Where will we go?"
The knight paused.
Just for a moment.
Then he answered.
"Somewhere they cannot reach us easily."
A brief silence followed.
Then—
He spoke a single word.
"The Academy."
The word carried weight.
Importance.
Danger.
Hope.
Arin's eyes widened slightly.
"The place where warriors train?" he asked.
The knight nodded once.
"Yes."
He closed the chest firmly.
"If you are going to survive in this world," he continued,
"you must become stronger than the people hunting you."
The words settled deep inside the boy's heart.
Fear remained.
But something else appeared beside it.
Determination.
Outside—
The sky slowly began to brighten.
The first light of dawn crept across the horizon.
A new day was coming.
But this day would not begin with peace.
It would begin with departure.
The knight placed a cloak around the boy's shoulders.
Warm.
Protective.
Ready.
He rested a firm hand on Arin's shoulder.
"From this moment forward," he said,
"your childhood is over."
The words felt final.
Unavoidable.
True.
Together—
They stepped outside.
The village streets were empty.
Silent.
Still.
No one came to say goodbye.
No one came to stop them.
Grey Hollow remained behind them.
Fading into the distance.
Becoming memory.
Becoming past.
Ahead—
The road stretched into the unknown.
Long.
Dangerous.
Unforgiving.
And far beyond the mountains—
Inside a fortress carved into black stone—
A massive war table stood beneath flickering torchlight.
Several commanders gathered around it.
Their faces grim.
Their eyes cold.
At the center of the table—
A single name had been written in red ink.
ARIN