Adlet opened his eyes to the familiar ceiling of his room, slivers of morning light piercing through the gaps. Memories of his conversation with Pami surfaced instantly, and he shot upright, heart hammering. Could it have been a dream? The thought barely touched him.
He stayed in bed for a moment, gathering himself, letting the excitement simmer into cautious clarity. Then an idea struck.
"Pami?" he called, voice trembling with anticipation.
Silence.
"Please, answer me!"
Still nothing. The quiet could have sown doubt in any ordinary child, yet Adlet felt none. The abrupt ending of their conversation the night before—an invisible time limit in the inner realm—told him this was no ordinary dream. He had to act.
Dressing quickly, he rushed to find his father. Surprisingly, the older man was already preparing for the day's work in the fields.
"Aren't you already gone?" his father asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Dad! Something happened while I was sleeping! I might finally be able to become a Protector!" Adlet blurted out, words tumbling over each other.
"Stop joking. Why wouldn't you come help me if you're still at home?" his father replied, frowning at the unusual urgency in his son's tone.
"No… I… I need to go to the village today," Adlet stammered, grasping at a reason, though he had no proof or explanation to offer.
He bolted down the familiar path, adrenaline pushing his legs faster than ever. By the time he reached the village, he was breathless, stopping in the square to scan for someone who might help. Few people were about, and none possessed the knowledge he sought.
"The teacher!" realization sparked in him.
He raced to the schoolhouse, which also served as the residence of the village's sole scholar. Knocking on the door, he waited until the teacher's head appeared at the window.
"Adlet? Is something wrong?"
"No, teacher, but I need your help. Could you open the door for me?"
The teacher disappeared briefly, and moments later, the door creaked open.
"Rare to see you on a school day, and now you come even when it's closed. Suddenly more studious?" the older man teased.
"Sorry to disappoint, but that's not why I'm here. I need your guidance."
"Very well. What can I do for you?"
Adlet took a deep breath. "What should someone do to become a Protector?"
The teacher stroked his chin, considering. "I don't know exactly, but I believe one must attend the Darwin Academy in the capital. That's where most new Protectors train."
"How does one get in? Everyone is accepted?"
"Only those who meet the qualifications. And there's a registration fee—fifty gold coins."
Adlet's jaw dropped. "Fifty gold coins? That's decades of work for my family. Isn't there another way?"
"Perhaps with a recommendation from a notable person, like an academy teacher or a noble. The exact qualifications… I can't say. Our village is far from such matters. For precise information, one would have to speak to a Protector."
Adlet immediately thought of Florian's teacher but knew he could never ask for a favor.
"Thank you, sir," he said quietly, a twinge of disappointment brushing his chest.
"Well… you're welcome," the teacher replied, a subtle concern in his gaze as the boy departed.
Adlet paused near a vendor's cart, weighing his dwindling options. Earn money for the Academy? Train alone? Follow Florian secretly? Each path seemed daunting. And then, like an answer to his unspoken thoughts, an old man appeared.
He moved with surprising ease, steps long and deliberate. His clothes, patched and worn, hinted at years of travel, yet did not diminish the quiet authority he carried. Deep lines etched his face, each wrinkle a testament to decades of experience, yet in his eyes burned a spark—a sharp, lively gleam that spoke of someone who had seen and understood much. Even his posture, slightly bent, radiated calm certainty.
"I need supplies for a few days," the man said, voice steady and measured, each word carrying weight.
Adlet felt a pull, curiosity mingling with instinctual recognition. There was something about him—a presence that commanded attention despite humble attire.
"Right away, sir," the merchant said, filling a bag as the man passed.
"I heard that some purple ores were discovered in the forest a few kilometers west. Any information?" the old man asked, hand stroking his beard.
"I'm not aware. You should ask the hunters; they know the forest best," the merchant replied.
"Thank you," the man said, placing a generous tip on the counter before continuing on his way.
Adlet's eyes followed the old man as he moved through the forest, each careful step disturbing only a few leaves. A thought struck him—this could be an opportunity to earn some coins. He knew the forest intimately, had even glimpsed those strange purple stones before. Without hesitation, he fell into step alongside the man, matching his long strides.
"Excuse me, sir," Adlet called, keeping pace, "I happen to know the forest well. I can guide you to some small purple stones."
The man paused, turning a sharp gaze toward the boy. "It's very thoughtful of you to want to help your elders. Where do you think you saw these stones?"
"It's hard for me to explain," Adlet admitted, "but I can guide you there."
The old man's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm afraid I cannot let such a young boy serve as my guide."
Adlet's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't falter. "Let's say I was planning to investigate these stones myself. You're free to accompany me."
For the first time, the man's gaze lingered on Adlet with something like curiosity—and a hint of respect. It was rare that a child could think on his feet this way. "Very well, let's do that," he said, stepping aside to allow the boy to lead.
The two unlikely companions continued side by side, moving deeper into the forest. The air smelled of damp earth and moss, and a soft wind whispered through the trees. Adlet's mind raced with anticipation. Not only could he earn some coins, but he was also proving, to himself and to this stranger, that he could take initiative, that he was capable of more than just following orders.
As they walked, Adlet pointed out landmarks—the twisted oak, the moss-covered boulder, the narrow stream that curved through the undergrowth—guiding the man carefully, making sure they stayed on the right path. Soon, the clearing came into view, scattered with small purple stones shimmering faintly under the dappled sunlight.
"There," Adlet said softly.
The old man crouched, examining the area with meticulous care. "Your guidance saved me time, young friend. I shall study this site carefully. You may return home now," he said, pressing a small leather pouch into Adlet's hands.
Adlet glanced at the small leather pouch in his hand. Helping the elder hadn't required courage—more a matter of seizing the opportunity—but there was a quiet satisfaction in having played his part. Still, the encounter had ended so quickly that a small part of him felt slightly unfulfilled. The thrill of adventure had been fleeting, and he wanted something more.
Deciding to wander deeper into the forest, he let curiosity guide his steps. He followed a narrow path along the river, tracing its gentle currents as sunlight filtered through the canopy, scattering across the mossy banks. The forest felt alive, and for the first time that day, Adlet allowed himself to simply observe, to breathe in the scent of wet earth and the distant call of birds.
Eventually, the river led him to its source: a towering thirty-meter waterfall, cascading from the massive rock face that marked the edge of the world. The roar of water was deafening yet hypnotic. Adlet drew a deep breath, letting the raw power of the landscape settle into him, grounding his thoughts and sharpening his senses.
Finally, he rested on a moss-covered stone and opened the pouch. Inside lay about fifty silver coins—far from enough for the Academy fees, but a tangible reward, a small acknowledgment of his cleverness and opportunism.
As he looked up toward the forest edge, the particles of gold and white light from the stones seemed to linger in his vision, merging with a sense of possibility he hadn't felt before. He felt the faint spark of potential stirring in his chest—a whisper that there was more to discover, more to test himself against.
Then—a tremor, faint but insistent, vibrated through the air. Behind the waterfall, shadows shifted. Cautious, Adlet circled the base, following the noise until he discovered a dark cave entrance.
His eyes adjusted to the dimness. Adlet froze. A dark shape moved inside. Before he could react, the creature lunged—a meter-long beetle-like beast, horn arched menacingly. It had slipped from the waterfall, weakened, yet its aggression remained. Mandibles clicked with a metallic rhythm, echoing in the cavern.
Adlet's instincts flared. Hands tensed, body poised. Every lesson learned in the forest, every solitary hour of training, converged in that single instant. He recalled Pami's guidance, the bond they now shared, and felt a shiver of determination run down his spine. He was not yet a Protector—but he would survive.