The walk to town was quiet. Not the peaceful kind, more the uncomfortable kind that drags on long enough for you to start noticing everything. The crunch of leaves underfoot was too loud.
The occasional rustle in the branches didn't just sound like something was following us; it was something, and my heart would stutter until I saw it was just a bird or a squirrel. I flinched at every snap of a twig.
Arden's footsteps up ahead were steady and unhurried. Sora's barely made a sound, like she'd trained herself to move without leaving a trace. Then there was me, breathing too loud, jumping at shadows.
My body was a mess of wrong feelings. The deep ache from the ogre's blow was gone, smoothed away by the potion into a general, full-body soreness. But my mind felt... blurred.
A memory would surface, the knight's chestplate crumpling inwards, the smell of burnt blood, and the horror would rise, a cold wave ready to crash... but then it would just... fade. The edges of the panic were soft, like a nightmare I was already forgetting.
This isn't right, I thought, the logic a sharp pinprick in the fog. I saw everyone die. I should be screaming. Why can I even think straight?
I remembered the potion's warmth, the way it had soothed my ribs.
Had it put a lid on the screaming in my head, too? The thought was a relief and a terror. This calm wasn't mine. It was borrowed, and I didn't know when he would want it back.
I still didn't know why he brought me along. He hadn't explained. Not even hinted. One moment he was finishing off a knight like it was just another job, the next he told me I should join his party. Like that was something people just said to someone who'd lost everything. No reason. No context. Just "join."
Maybe he pitied me. Maybe he needed an extra pair of hands. Or maybe I'd somehow impressed him by staying conscious when he split a man in half. Hard to tell. This man didn't exactly seem to be the type to explain himself.
Still, I didn't have a better option. Wandering off alone sounded like a quick way to die, and if I was going to follow anyone, it might as well be the strange man who could kill knights without blinking.
Part of me was curious, though. Not about where we were going, but rather about him. About why someone like him, with that kind of power, would bother with someone like me.
People didn't usually notice orphaned village girls, much less invite them to join their group. But nothing about Arden ever made sense. Not his magic, not how he fought, not how calm he always seemed.
Sora walked close by, her golden hair catching bits of sunlight through the trees. She didn't talk much, but every so often she'd glance over at me, as if checking I was still there. I couldn't tell if it was kindness or habit, but it helped. Made me feel a little less like dead weight.
She reminded me of a cat, the kind that pretends not to care but always keeps you in sight. I didn't know if I liked her yet, but I didn't dislike her either. There was something quiet about her, gentle in a way that felt strange out here.
Sometimes I caught her watching Arden when she thought no one noticed. It wasn't simple admiration, though. There was something else in her eyes that I couldn't quite place.
The forest never seemed to end. The path was barely there, just trampled grass and the occasional broken branch. Birds called out now and then, half-hearted, like even they were tired of the place. For a long while, that was all there was: just walking, the muffled silence in my head, and the creeping thought that I was the only one here who knew any of this was wrong.
Eventually, I gave up and asked, "Your magic… how'd you get so strong?"
I tried to sound curious, not like I'd been thinking about how he'd turned a man in armor into red mist without even blinking.
Arden glanced over his shoulder, face unreadable. "Luck, mostly."
I stared at him. "Luck? Seriously? That's your answer?"
He shrugged, like strength was something that just happened if you walked far enough. "That's right. Luck. It's the only thing that's ever gotten me this far."
I opened my mouth to say something else, maybe joke that he was actually some ancient monster pretending to be human, but what came out instead was, "Couldn't you have just done that teleporting thing I've heard mages can do? Saved us the walk?"
It sounded more bitter than I meant it to, though to be fair, we were still walking.
To my surprise, he stopped for a moment and tilted his head, like he was actually thinking about it. "I've never been to this town," he said. "Can't travel somewhere I haven't marked."
That made me blink. "Marked?"
He gave me that look again, the one that made me feel like a kid asking why water's wet. "You have to set the place in your memory first. Magic doesn't bend the world for no reason."
"Right. Makes sense," I muttered, trying to sound like I already knew that. "You can't jump where you've never stood."
He didn't reply, just turned and kept walking like the matter was closed.
I let out a quiet breath through my nose. I never thought I'd be learning magic from someone who talked less than the trees, but I wasn't going to complain.
The sun was sinking behind the forest, its light turning deep amber and spilling through the branches in long, sharp streaks. I was starting to wonder if we'd been going in circles when Sora suddenly pointed ahead.
"There," she said softly. "Almost there."
Through the thinning trees, the outline of buildings took shape, large and solid, too structured to be a village. Smoke rose from chimneys, and stone walls caught the fading light.
A town.
Not a cluster of huts, not a handful of tents. A proper town, with walls that looked like they could keep the world out, or maybe keep everyone else in. The kind traders used to come from, and stories shared by the old men who'd seen more of the world than the rest of us put together. Seeing one for myself didn't feel real.
Compared to the ruins I'd crawled out of, this place might as well have been another world. There was no fire or blood, just sound and color. Shouts, hammering, laughter.
Flags rippled above the streets, lines of laundry hung in every shade imaginable, and shop signs painted with symbols I couldn't read somehow looked beautiful anyway.
It was overwhelming, beautiful in a way that made my chest tighten, as if it was all too much to take in at once.
My thoughts drifted backward before I could stop them. Flames, collapsing roofs, the screaming, the taste of smoke thick in my throat. The empty quiet after. I caught myself flinching, blinked hard, and forced it all down like stones sinking in water. Not now. Not here.
We reached the town gates, where a handful of guards stood half distracted at their posts. Their armor looked too light, their expressions too relaxed. Still, their eyes followed us as we approached, mainly Arden.
One of them stiffened, his gaze sharpening for a second as if he recognized something and wasn't sure how to feel about it. But he didn't say anything. None of them did.
I, for one, was trying my hardest not to look suspicious, which of course is exactly what makes a person look suspicious. I smiled too quickly, then stopped, then scratched at my eye like something was in it.
Walking through the gates felt like crossing into a different reality. The noise hit first, with vendors shouting over each other, wheels rattling against cobblestones, laughter and arguments and music bleeding out of alleyways. It was chaos, but the kind that felt safe. Or at least, safer than what I'd left behind.
The market was a tangled symphony of motion and smell. One step in and I was hit with fifty different voices, a gust of spice smoke, and a barefoot child who nearly bowled me over.
There was food, so much food.
Meats sizzling over open flames, bright fruits stacked in precarious pyramids, strange glowing pastries that looked like they were enchanted to taste better than they had any right to. I probably looked like I'd never seen a market before, because I hadn't.
My stomach growled, loud and traitorous. I tried to act like I wasn't eyeing a skewer stand like it owed me money. Arden noticed, of course. He always seemed to notice things without looking like he was noticing, which was somehow more annoying than if he'd just pointed it out.
"Hungry?" he asked, his voice flat as ever, but with the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.
I nodded, probably looking like a starving stray. "Starving."
Without fanfare or comment, he peeled off toward the stall, handed over a few coins, and came back with skewers. Just like that. No lecture about saving coin, no awkward silence while I tried to justify not having any money. Just food.
I took one. The warmth seeped into my fingers, and I could have cried from the smell alone. It was smoky and salty and perfect. Maybe not fancy, but in that moment, it was the best thing I'd ever tasted.
Sora accepted hers with a smile so small it could have slipped under a door, but she took a bite and let out a tiny, satisfied hum. "It's good," she said, her voice soft but certain.
I nodded, my mouth too full to form a proper reply. It was good. Stupidly good.
As we wandered deeper, the noise thickened. More people, more stares. And they weren't looking at me.
They were looking at Arden.
It wasn't subtle. People paused mid argument to glance his way. Shopkeepers tracked him between customers. One man literally stopped chewing just to stare, as if he were watching an undead walk through a farmers' market.
It wasn't fear, though, not exactly. It was more like recognition wrapped in confusion, dipped in respect, and rolled in a very thin layer of "should I salute or kneel or something?"
I saw a group of recruits, their armor still shiny and new, standing near a weapon stall. They weren't scared. They were watching him with a kind of hungry awe, their eyes wide, like he was a legend stepped right out of a songbook. They looked at him like he was the mountain they wanted to climb, even if it killed them.
And they all gave him space. The crowd just seemed to part for him, a bubble of quiet moving with us through the chaos. No one bumped into him. No one even got close.
I didn't know what to make of it. Sora, for her part, stayed near. She wasn't clinging to his arm like she did at the campsite, but she was always there, a step behind and just off to the side.
When a big man lurched out of a tavern door a little too fast, she shifted her weight almost imperceptibly, placing herself in the way.
Her eyes, usually so soft, were constantly scanning the crowd, calm and watchful. It was a habit, I realized. A quiet, practiced vigilance.
Whatever their story was, they'd been living it for a long, long time.
Eventually, we reached the Adventurers' Guild, one of those places where trouble wasn't just expected, it was practically on the welcome sign. Big, loud, and proud of it.
Banners on the outside, weapons on the inside, and the unmistakable scent of beer, sweat, and the sound of two grown men arguing like their lives depended on it from somewhere in the back.
Inside, it was all worn wood, loud voices, and scuffed-up pride. Adventurers filled every table, boasting about quests, trading gear, or just laughing too hard at their own jokes.
But the moment we stepped inside, the noise hit a wall. It didn't go quiet, not exactly, but the volume dropped like a stone. The two guys who'd been screaming at each other in the back lowered their voices to a tense mutter. The roaring laughter from a table of brutes cut off sharp.
Heads turned. Not all of them, but enough. Grizzled veterans with scars running down their arms gave him slow, measuring looks. Younger adventurers with more bravado than sense suddenly looked like kids who'd just seen the headmaster. The air, which had smelled of cheap beer and cheaper ambition, now carried a sharp, electric undercurrent of attention.
Okay, what is his deal? I thought, my earlier confusion hardening into a real question. This wasn't just respect for a high rank. This was the way veterans with a dozen kills under their belt wouldn't quite meet his eyes.
He didn't even have to do anything. He just had to stand there. And the scariest part? He looked utterly bored by it.
We headed for the front desk, where a receptionist greeted us with a smile that had clearly given up years ago. It was the kind that said, "I've seen it all, and I'm only here for the coin."
She looked me over with a neutral, professional sort of disinterest, her eyes already categorizing me as 'harmless' and moving on.
Then her gaze landed on Arden, and her whole demeanor shifted. Her professional mask slipped, just for a second. Something flickered in her eyes.
Was it respect? A healthy dose of fear? It was hard to tell, and she sure wasn't going to explain. I didn't bother asking.
"New recruit?" she asked, turning back to me.
I nodded. "Yeah. First time."
She gave a noncommittal hum and reached for a clipboard, then paused, looking at me more carefully. "Can you read and write?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "I... no. Not really."
She just nodded, like she'd expected that. "No worries. I'll fill it out with you. Name?"
I told her. She went down the list, asking my age, if I knew my magic affinity, and what kind of experience I had. I considered saying "emergency sprinting" but settled on "none."
Once she was done, she gestured for me to follow her into a side room. In the center sat a large crystal orb on a pedestal, looking like it was waiting for me. My stomach was a tight knot.
"Place your hand on the orb," the receptionist said, already sounding a little bored.
My hand hovered over it. I half expected it to stay dark, or maybe even crack just to prove I didn't belong here. But when my fingers touched the cool surface, the orb woke up.
It wasn't a flicker. It was a glow.
A warm, steady, golden light that filled the inside of the crystal. The warmth spread up my arm, and for a crazy second, it didn't feel like magic. It felt like… coming home. My breath caught in my throat.
This was real.
This was proof, right here in my hand, that I wasn't just the trash everyone saw. I was something. I had to bite the inside of my cheek hard, fighting back a sudden, stupid wave of tears. I couldn't cry here. I had to look tough. I had to.
The receptionist blinked, her bored look finally shifting. "Light magic," she said, her voice sharper now. "That's rare."
I just stared, my mind still catching up. "Wait, really?"
She nodded. "Strong, too. You'll want to train that. Light mages don't come around often."
Her voice was a little louder than it needed to be. The low rumble of conversation from the main guild hall dipped. I felt eyes on me from the doorway, from the tables nearby. A few people were actually looking over.
"Light affinity?" someone muttered.
"See that?" another voice whispered.
For a single, terrifying, and thrilling heartbeat, I wasn't invisible. They weren't looking at my worn clothes or my dirty face. They were looking at the light I made.
Sora appeared beside me like a quiet ghost. She gave me a small, gentle smile. "See? You're not useless."
I opened my mouth, but nothing clever came out. Just the quiet, shaky realization that for once, someone had seen something in me before I'd done anything to earn it.
It felt like standing on a bridge that hadn't collapsed under me yet.
I let out a half laugh. "Give me some time and I'll probably find a way to mess it up."
But even as I said it, that strange warmth was still there in my chest. A tiny part of me had finally stopped waiting for the world to kick me down again.
Maybe I wasn't just tagging along. Maybe I could actually do something.
The receptionist handed me a bronze plate that reflected in the light. "This is your adventurer rank," she said. "Bronze. It's where most adventurers start."
Bronze. Of course. The very bottom of the ladder.
I turned it over in my hand, pretending it didn't feel like a polite way of saying "good luck not dying." Still, it was mine. A beginning. I hadn't had one of those in a while.
Sora had a gold plate. Arden's was platinum. Naturally. I tried not to dwell on that. Comparing myself to them was like showing up to a swordfight with a spoon.
Once the receptionist finished explaining where to find the quest board and the nearest inn, we stepped back out into the street. I barely processed anything she said. My mind was still stuck on the idea of signing up for a job that mentioned giant rats and optional casualty insurance. What kind of life was this?
The inn was thankfully close. Arden paid for the rooms without a word, and the innkeeper handed over a key without asking questions. I was starting to think Arden's whole scary but respectable presence paid for itself in silence.
When we reached our rooms, Arden glanced at me. "Take a bath first if you want. You've had a long day."
He wasn't wrong. I probably looked and smelled like I'd personally fought the compost pit and lost (which I sort of had). I nodded, already imagining sinking into warm water and pretending the last few days had never happened.
Then Sora tilted her head up toward him, eyes soft. "Master, may I share the bath with you later?"
Her voice was so gentle, it barely rose above a whisper. She looked... almost shy. Not embarrassed, but there was a quiet weight to the question, like it was a routine she found comfort in.
Arden didn't respond right away. He just looked at her, his expression unreadable, then gave a small nod. There was no teasing in his response, no surprise. This was just how they were.
I looked away. I wasn't sure if I felt awkward, or envious, or just tired.
Sora lit up at his response. It was subtle, but the relief and quiet joy on her face made it feel like a sunbeam had cracked through the door. Then she looked at me, like she was suddenly aware I was still there, her expression turning slightly sheepish.
I wasn't even sure why. She'd said nothing wrong. Still, I appreciated the gesture. It made the moment feel a little less like I was ruining something.
The bath was better than I expected. Honestly, it felt like a godly blessing in liquid form. Warm water, actual soap, and a moment where I wasn't covered in dirt, blood, or lingering emotions. I sank into it like it might forgive me for the week I'd just had.
For the first time in too long, I let my muscles unclench and my thoughts go quiet. No running, no worrying, no wondering what came next.
Just stillness. Warm, quiet stillness.
And gods, did it feel good.
Just as I was finally starting to enjoy the bath, like, actually enjoy it and not just pretend I knew how to relax, the door creaked open.
"Sora, didn't you say you wanted to take a bath togeth—"
That voice. Arden.
A bolt of pure panic shot through me, hot and immediate, followed instantly by a wave of burning shame.
I folded in on myself, limbs scrambling to make myself as small and invisible as humanly possible, which is pretty hard to do when you're soaking wet and stuck in a tub. My face went red like a tomato. I didn't even think, just curled into a ball.
Arden froze in the doorway. His expression shifted for a half second, his glasses catching the light, his mouth slightly open. And then he did something I wasn't prepared for.
He looked embarrassed.
Not dramatically so. No gasp, no fluster. Just a flicker of genuine surprise and… was that regret?
"Excuse me," he said quietly, then stepped back and closed the door like he hadn't just walked in on the world's worst surprise encounter.
I sat there, heart pounding, brain melting, wondering if I'd just experienced a new kind of humiliation. Of course that would happen. Why wouldn't it?
Groaning into my hands, I sank lower into the water like I could melt into it and never come back up. I hadn't even done anything wrong. This wasn't on me. I wasn't the one who forgot to knock. But still… why?
The rest of the bath was spent trying to force the memory out of my brain with sheer willpower. It didn't work.
When I stepped out, skin wrinkled and clean for the first time in too long, there was a bundle waiting outside the door.
Clothes.
Neatly folded. A blouse, dark trousers, a light cloak. Even a pair of boots that looked about my size. It wasn't anything special, but it was clean and new, fancier than anything I had ever owned.
There was a small piece of paper tucked beneath the folded clothes. The script was neat and careful, but I couldn't make sense of it. Not a single letter looked familiar.
I stared at it for a long moment, then glanced up just in time to see Arden turning a corner down the hall.
Maybe he left these for me.
That thought was strange. Unexpected. But somehow... it made sense. He didn't seem like the type for this kind of gesture. Then again, maybe I didn't know what his type was yet. Not really.
I picked up the clothes slowly, pressing the rough fabric to my chest. They didn't smell like anything I knew. Not like smoke, or fear, or the inside of a worn-down hut.
Just... clean. Like fresh cotton. For the first time since the village, I wasn't wearing rags.
Later that evening, the three of us sat in the inn's dining hall. The warm light felt soft against the quiet clinking of plates and the silence that kept growing between us.
Arden had apologized again, calm and quiet, like he was saying the weather report. Like it didn't bother him at all.
Meanwhile, I was still fighting off a flush of shame. His calmness about it just made me feel worse.
And then there were the clothes. That quiet bundle.
I couldn't stop thinking about them.
He didn't have to do that. And he didn't have to say anything either. The note he left was just scribbles to me. I didn't know what it said. Couldn't read it.
Sora saved me from my swirling thoughts. She started talking, soft and sweet, about their past travels. The dangers, the chaos, the usual traveler talk. Her voice had a rhythm that felt like a story told by someone who had really fought monsters. I found myself smiling at the little parts I hadn't expected, letting myself relax a little.
Still... my mind kept jumping back to the day. A surprised Arden. Me soaked and panicked. The clothes waiting. The note I couldn't read. Ugh.
But the space between us grew softer, little by little. Arden didn't talk much, but somehow that helped. His silence wasn't cold, but quiet. And Sora was like a warm light, filling the empty spaces without pushing too hard.
By the time we finished eating, the mood had shifted from "worst social nightmare" to something closer to "awkward but okay dinner." I could live with that.
I fell onto the inn's bed, every part of me aching. I was no one from nowhere, sleeping in a real bed, with a bronze adventurer's plate and a core of light inside me I didn't understand. The girl from the slums was gone. I just didn't know who was going to take her place.