When Rogan left the shop, the street was quiet.
Myra and Arven stood by the door, watching their son disappear down the cobbled road, the sun melting into orange light behind him.
Arven exhaled softly. "What do we tell Lyra when she comes home and finds her brother gone?"
Myra smiled faintly. "I'll tell her the truth — that her brother went to become the hunter he always wanted to be. To my village. To our people."
Arven chuckled under his breath. "Korvan… it's been a long time since that name meant anything to us."
Myra watched the horizon until Rogan was only a shadow against the light. "It will again," she said quietly.
---
The journey to Korvan Village took three long days.
The first was calm — forest paths and cool wind.
The second was rougher — uneven ridges and the faint cries of wyverns overhead.
By the third, Rogan's legs ached, and his blade felt heavier than usual.
When he finally saw smoke rising over the treetops, he smiled despite himself.
Korvan stood like a memory of the old world — wooden fences, quiet forges, children chasing each other through dust and sunlight. The air carried the smell of fire and herbs.
At the gate, a guard leaned on his spear, squinting. "Rare sight," he muttered. "Guild hunters don't visit often."
Rogan stopped, lowering his hood. "I'm not with the Guild."
The guard tilted his head. "Then what brings you here, stranger?"
Rogan shifted uneasily. "I came… to learn. To restrain my strength. To meet the village chief."
The guard blinked, confused. "Learn? Restrain? This isn't a school, hunter."
"I–I know," Rogan stammered. "Alder sent me. Said the chief might help."
At that name, the guard straightened immediately. "Alder? You mean the hunter who helped slay the Vulcarion Basal?"
Rogan nodded.
The guard lowered his spear. "In that case, welcome. The chief's longhouse is straight down the road. Can't miss it."
"Thank you," Rogan said, bowing slightly before continuing inside.
---
The longhouse loomed over the square, its roof darkened from years of smoke. Rogan climbed the steps and knocked gently.
The door creaked open, revealing Chief Maerin — tall, with streaks of silver through her hair, eyes still sharp from a lifetime of hunts.
She looked him up and down. "You're new."
Rogan swallowed, his throat dry. "Y-yes, ma'am."
"What brings you here, hunter?"
"I… I'm here to… to—" Rogan's voice tripped over itself.
Maerin's tone cut through his nerves like a command. "Stand straight and breathe."
Rogan obeyed instantly, back stiffening, breath steadying. "Y-yes, ma'am."
"Now," she said calmly, "what are you here for?"
Rogan met her eyes. "I came to learn how to restrain my strength. To control it."
Maerin raised an eyebrow. "Control, huh?"
"Yes, ma'am. Alder told me to come here. He said… someone could teach me."
He reached into his cloak and handed her a folded letter.
Maerin took it, broke the seal, and read.
Her expression softened. "So, you met Alder… and you're Myra's boy?"
Rogan blinked. "You know my mother?"
A faint smile tugged at Maerin's lips. "Everyone from Korvan knows Myra. And now that I look at you—" she gestured to his towering frame "—I do remember a little boy once. Said he'd become a samurai hunter, remember?"
Rogan scratched his neck awkwardly. "Ah… yeah. That was me."
Maerin chuckled. "You were a tiny thing then. Now you look like you could wrestle a Gravios."
Rogan laughed shyly.
Maerin motioned him inside. The air inside the longhouse smelled of tea and woodsmoke. She gestured for him to sit. "So. You really want to train here?"
Rogan nodded. "Yes, Chief. I still want to be a hunter. Not for glory… for honor."
Maerin studied him for a long moment, then poured two cups of tea. "Hmm. We'll see about that."
She stood suddenly and walked out the door. "Wait here."
Rogan sat quietly, unsure what to do, the steam from the tea swirling in front of him.
Moments later, Maerin returned. "We'll wait for your teachers."
"My… teachers?" Rogan asked.
Maerin only sipped her tea, not answering. Rogan stayed silent.
Minutes passed before there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," Maerin said.
Two figures entered — one man with calm eyes and a light bowgun at his side, and one woman with a familiar smirk and a lance strapped across her back.
Rogan froze.
Seren.
She blinked at him, confused at first. "You needed us, Chief?" she asked.
Maerin nodded toward Rogan. "You remember this man, Seren?"
Seren studied his face — and then it hit her. "Wait… Rogan?!" she shouted. "By the stars, it's you! You're huge!"
Rogan blushed immediately, rubbing his neck. "It's… been a while."
Seren laughed, shaking her head. "A while? You look like you ate the old you."
Kael, standing beside her, glanced toward Maerin. "What's going on, Chief?"
Maerin handed him Alder's letter. "Read."
Kael scanned it quickly. "You think he's got potential?"
Maerin nodded. "That's for you to find out. But remember our condition."
Kael smirked. "I haven't forgotten."
He handed the letter to Seren. She read it silently, then looked up at Rogan. "You met Alder in Draconis?"
Rogan nodded. "He told me to come here."
Seren's smirk returned. "Then let's see what he saw in you."
Rogan blinked. "W-wait, now?"
Seren stepped toward the door, lance gleaming in the afternoon light. "I've fought dragons, Rogan. Don't worry — I won't break that sword of yours."
"I… don't want to hurt you," Rogan stammered.
Seren laughed. "Oh, you won't."
Kael crossed his arms. "That's settled then. Alder tested you once — now Seren will do the same."
Maerin smiled faintly, sipping her tea again. "Welcome to Korvan, boy. Your training begins now."
Rogan glanced between them — at Kael's quiet confidence, Seren's fearless grin, and Maerin's calm authority — and for the first time since the Guild, he felt something that almost resembled belonging.
He tightened his grip on his sword. "Yes, Chief."
Outside, the sound of steel rang once more in Korvan's air.
The samurai boy's trial had begun.