The road led straight to the towering entrance of the Kingdom of Solaris. Massive stone walls rose high into the sky, their pale surfaces glowing beneath the warm sunlight. Guards stood at attention on either side of the open gates, carefully observing the steady stream of merchants, travelers, and wagons entering the city.
As the group approached, the guards straightened.
One of them raised a hand in greeting. "Wilds Guild, returning from the forest?"
Osbin grinned beneath his beard. "What gave it away?"
The guard snorted. "Probably the armor. Or maybe your ugly face."
Osbin laughed loudly. "Still got jokes, huh? Thought you'd have lost those after that night at the Tavern."
The guard rolled his eyes. "You're the one who passed out on the floor."
"Because you drank my share," Osbin shot back. "Don't twist the story."
The two exchanged a brief salute—less formal than expected, more like old friends acknowledging each other.
Then the guard's eyes shifted.
He noticed Lars.
"…And who's the kid?"
The mood changed slightly. Not hostile—but curious.
Gallant stepped forward. "We found him in the restricted forest. Unconscious, near the site of a large disturbance."
Tobi added, "We're bringing him back to the guild. We'll report everything to Guild Master Raiyo."
The guard narrowed his eyes slightly. "Restricted forest, huh…?"
Rin spoke calmly. "We'll give the full report at the guild. It's a sensitive matter."
The guard studied them for a moment longer, then nodded. "Fair enough."
But then his gaze dropped to Lars' clothing—or lack of it.
"…What in the sun's name is he wearing?"
Lars froze.
He glanced down at himself.
Leaves. Vines. Improvised wrappings.
His face instantly flushed bright red.
"I—"
Rin burst into laughter. "Don't worry about it. We're stopping by a shop first."
She gently patted Lars on the shoulder. "Wouldn't want all the eyes in Solaris glued to you. That'd cause more trouble than it's worth."
Lars nodded awkwardly, still embarrassed.
The guard chuckled. "Yeah, might want to fix that before you start a fashion trend."
He stepped aside, waving them through. "Go on, then. And Osbin—"
Osbin looked back. "Yeah?"
"Come by the tavern later. First round's on me."
Osbin laughed. "So you can end up sleeping on the floor again?"
The guard scoffed. "That happened once."
"Twice," Osbin corrected with a grin.
They both laughed as the group passed through the gates.
⸻
The moment Lars stepped inside the walls, the world changed.
The streets were alive with movement. Vendors called out to passing customers, their stalls overflowing with fruits, fabrics, and handmade goods. Children ran between adults, laughing as they chased one another across the cobblestone roads.
Music drifted through the air—strange instruments unlike any Lars had seen before. Some resembled flutes carved from bone or wood, others had strings stretched across curved frames. The melodies were unfamiliar, but beautiful in their own way.
Different kinds of people filled the streets.
Commoners in simple, practical clothing.
Merchants in brighter fabrics.
Nobles in elegant attire, escorted by attendants.
Despite the differences, all of them walked the same streets. Shopped in the same markets. Shared the same sunlight.
Shops lined both sides of the road.
Armor.
Weapons.
Clothing.
Food.
Tools.
Books.
Everything a person could need seemed to exist somewhere within these walls.
Lars felt a strange warmth in his chest.
It wasn't the same as his old home.
But it didn't feel foreign either.
He didn't feel completely lost here.
Still, he noticed the glances.
People were looking at him.
Some curious.
Some confused.
Some amused.
He lowered his head slightly, trying to avoid their eyes as he walked beside the Wilds Guild members.
Please stop staring…
Rin noticed and gave him a reassuring smile. "Almost there."
⸻
They soon stopped in front of a sturdy stone building with a wide wooden sign hanging above the door. The sign displayed the image of a hammer striking a breastplate.
An armor shop.
They stepped inside.
The air smelled faintly of metal and oil. Armor pieces lined the walls—helmets, gauntlets, breastplates, and greaves displayed neatly on wooden racks.
Behind the counter stood a broad-shouldered man with thick arms and a weathered face. His dark brown hair was streaked with gray, and a short, well-kept beard framed his jaw. He wore a leather apron stained from years of work, and a measuring tape hung loosely around his neck.
This was Brannik Stonehollow, one of the more respected armorers in the district.
He looked up as the door opened.
"Well, if it isn't the Wilds Guild," he said with a low chuckle. "Back from another hunt already?"
Rin raised a hand in greeting. "Good to see you, Brannik."
Osbin leaned against a nearby rack. "Still overcharging for dented breastplates?"
Brannik smirked. "And you're still buying them, so I must be doing something right."
Rin stepped forward. "We actually need something today."
Brannik's eyes drifted toward Lars.
He studied the boy carefully, his expression thoughtful.
"…Haven't seen this one before."
Lars felt his face grow warm again and quickly looked away, avoiding the man's gaze.
Brannik rubbed his beard. "I know most folks in this district. Noble or common. But that face's new to me."
He didn't press further.
Instead, he looked back at Rin. "What does he need?"
"Something simple," she said. "Just enough to cover him properly."
Brannik nodded. "Fair enough."
He looked at Lars again, this time with a more neutral expression.
"Kid can pick anything in here worth ten bronze coins. Nothing fancy, but it'll do the job."
Lars' ears perked slightly.
Bronze coins…
Currency.
So this world used metals as money.
Does that mean there are silver and gold coins too? he wondered.
He stayed quiet, unsure how to respond.
This was all new to him.
He glanced at Rin, silently waiting for her signal—some reassurance that it was alright to move, to choose, to act in this unfamiliar world.
Lars nodded faintly after Rin gave him a small, encouraging smile. That was all the reassurance he needed.
He stepped away from the group and began scanning the shop.
Rows of armor lined the walls—heavy breastplates, layered leather sets, reinforced gauntlets, and helmets of various shapes and sizes. Some were polished and elegant, clearly meant for nobles or high-ranking adventurers. Others were worn, practical, and built for survival rather than appearance.
There were racks of clothing too—simple travel garments, light armor sets, padded tunics, and cloaks.
Lars moved quietly between them, his fingers brushing over different fabrics. Some were rough and stiff, others soft and well-stitched. He could tell immediately which pieces were expensive and which were meant for common adventurers.
In his previous life, clothing had always been chosen for him. Tailored. Perfectly measured. Delivered without effort.
But now…
He had to choose for himself.
Don't overthink it, he told himself.
You're not a noble anymore. You're a mystery.
If he chose something too elegant, it might draw attention. Too shabby, and it might make him look suspicious or out of place.
He needed something simple. Practical. Something that let him blend in.
After a few moments, he found a set that caught his eye.
It was modest, but well-made.
A lightweight tunic in a soft ashen gray, trimmed subtly along the edges with thin silver thread. The color wasn't flashy, but it complemented his pale hair without standing out too much.
Beneath it was a deep-blue undershirt, the shade of a calm evening sky. It was simple, but the color matched his eyes almost perfectly.
There was also a pair of dark charcoal trousers, durable and flexible, clearly made for travel or light combat. Not noble wear, but not ragged either—somewhere in the middle.
A short cloak hung beside the set. It was a muted steel-blue, fastened at the shoulder with a small, plain clasp. The fabric was light enough for movement but sturdy enough to offer some protection from wind and weather.
Nothing about the outfit screamed wealth or status.
But it wasn't cheap-looking either.
It was the kind of attire a young, low-rank adventurer or traveling apprentice might wear.
Balanced. Neutral. Unassuming.
Lars picked up the set and examined it once more.
This should be enough, he thought.
It matched his appearance without drawing too much attention, and more importantly—it fit within the ten bronze coin limit.
He turned back toward Rin, holding the clothing carefully.
"…This one," he said quietly.
It was the first outfit he had ever chosen for himself.
And in a strange way, it felt like the first real step into his new life.
As Lars held the chosen clothing in his arms, his eyes drifted once more around the shop.
It was difficult not to stare.
Rows of weapons lined the opposite wall—polished swords of various lengths, heavy warhammers with thick handles, broad-bladed axes, and slender daggers arranged neatly in wooden racks. Each one looked deadly in its own way, built for a specific purpose.
Some were simple and practical.
Others were decorated with engravings and gemstones, clearly meant for nobles or high-ranking adventurers.
But one type of equipment drew his attention more than the others.
Gauntlets.
Several pairs hung on a wooden stand near the center of the shop. Some were heavy and reinforced, designed to withstand crushing blows. Others were lighter, shaped to allow more movement and speed.
Lars' eyes lingered on them.
The memory of the feral wolf flashed in his mind—the moment he clenched his fist, the strange energy gathering around it, the explosive impact of his strike.
He hadn't used a sword.
He hadn't needed a weapon.
He had fought with his hands.
Maybe… he thought, one day I could use something like that.
Not now. Not yet. He knew nothing about this world's combat styles, its weapons, or its dangers. But the idea stayed in his mind, quietly planting itself like a seed.
For now, he turned back toward Rin.
He approached the group and held up the outfit he had chosen.
"…This one," he said.
Brannik glanced at the clothing, then gave a small approving nod. "Good choice. Practical. Won't slow you down, and it'll last a while."
He waved a hand dismissively toward Rin. "Don't worry about paying. Consider it a thank-you for all the work you lot bring in. Those materials keep my forge alive."
Rin smiled. "You don't have to do that, Brannik."
"I know," he said. "But I am."
Osbin crossed his arms with a grin. "About time you admitted you owed us something."
Brannik snorted. "Owed you? The only thing I owe you is a bill for the armor you keep denting."
Rin and Gallant both chuckled quietly.
Osbin placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Those dents are battle scars. They add character."
"They add repair costs," Brannik shot back. "And last I checked, you still haven't paid for the last one."
Osbin opened his mouth, then paused.
"…Alright, you got me this time."
Gallant let out a soft laugh, and even Rin shook her head with a smile.
Lars watched the exchange quietly.
They joked. Teased each other. Spoke casually, like people who had known one another for years.
It felt… normal.
Human.
For a moment, it almost didn't feel like he was in another world at all.
The warmth in his chest returned, stronger this time. Being around them felt strangely comforting, like standing near a small fire on a cold night.
Then Tobi cleared his throat.
"As pleasant as this is, we should really be going," he said. "Guild Master Raiyo is expecting a report."
Rin nodded. "Right. We shouldn't keep him waiting."
Gallant turned toward Brannik. "Thank you for your help."
Osbin gave a casual salute. "Try not to miss us too much."
Brannik waved them off. "Just don't break anything expensive next time."
The group began heading for the door.
Lars hesitated for a moment, then turned back toward the armorer.
"…Thank you," he said softly, giving a small, respectful bow.
Brannik blinked, then gave a faint smile. "Take care of yourself, kid."
With that, Lars followed the others out of the shop.
The door closed behind them, and the sounds of the busy street returned.
Ahead of them, somewhere deeper in the city, waited the headquarters of the Wilds Guild—and Guild Master Raiyo himself.
The group moved deeper into the city, turning down narrower streets until the crowds thinned and the buildings grew sturdier, more practical in appearance. The lively markets gave way to workshops, storage houses, and structures built for people who lived by strength and survival rather than trade or luxury.
At the end of a wide stone road stood the headquarters of the Wilds Guild.
From the outside, it didn't look particularly impressive. The building was large, but simple—constructed from thick wooden beams and reinforced stone. No grand banners. No golden statues. No elaborate carvings like those found in noble districts.
It looked more like a fortified lodge than the headquarters of one of the kingdom's strongest guilds.
Lars blinked.
This is an S-rank guild…?
But the moment they stepped inside, his impression changed.
The interior was alive with character.
Massive monster skulls were mounted on the walls like trophies of past hunts. Some were small, no larger than a man's head. Others were enormous, their fanged jaws wide enough to swallow a person whole.
Cloaks made from thick fur hung from racks near the entrance. Chairs and tables had been carved from hardened monster bones or rare woods brought back from distant expeditions. Even the bar in the corner looked like it had been built from the ribcage of some enormous beast.
The entire place carried the scent of leather, wood, and faint traces of smoke.
It felt rugged.
Earned.
Real.
This… suits them, Lars thought.
A few people inside turned as the group entered.
One of them, a tall woman with short auburn hair and a long spear resting against her shoulder, raised a hand. "Back already, Rin?"
"That was quick," said a stocky man at a nearby table, polishing a dagger. "Thought you lot were going deeper this time."
A third adventurer, a young man with sandy hair and a crossbow strapped to his back, leaned against the wall. "Did the beasts scare you off or something?"
Rin smirked. "Hardly, Mara. We just ran into something unexpected."
The stocky man—Derek—stood up and stretched. "Unexpected usually means trouble."
The crossbow user, Lenn, finally noticed Lars standing behind them.
"…Who's the kid?"
The others followed his gaze.
Mara raised a brow. "You pick him up on the way back or something?"
Derek chuckled. "Don't tell me Osbin started adopting strays."
Osbin snorted. "If I was adopting someone, it wouldn't be a skinny kid."
Rin raised a hand, cutting off the conversation. "We'll explain later. We're heading to see the Guild Master first."
That was enough to quiet them.
Mara's expression turned more serious. "Raiyo, huh? Must be important."
Gallant gave a small nod. "It is."
The three stepped aside, giving them space.
"Good luck," Lenn said. "He's been in one of his thinking moods all morning."
Osbin groaned. "Great. That means lectures."
Rin smirked. "Only if you did something wrong."
"I always do something wrong," Osbin muttered.
The group moved past the main hall, heading toward a large door at the far end of the guild.
Lars' eyes drifted toward it.
It was massive—thick wood reinforced with iron bands. The handle alone looked heavy enough to require real effort to move. It wasn't decorated or polished. It was sturdy, practical, and intimidating in its simplicity.
You could tell it wasn't just a door.
It was a boundary.
On the other side waited someone important.
The footsteps of the group slowed as they approached it, the weight of the moment settling in the air.
Guild Master Raiyo was just beyond that door.
Osbin reached for the heavy handle and pulled.
The door groaned as it opened, its thick wooden frame shifting with a deep, weighty sound. It was the kind of door that felt more like a barrier than an entrance, built to keep noise—and perhaps danger—out.
The moment the gap widened, Lars felt it.
That same strange sensation from the cave in the Ruins .
From the forest.
That invisible pressure brushing against his skin.
He didn't know the word for it yet, but he recognized the feeling instantly. It was denser here, thicker—like the air itself carried a presence.
His eyes widened slightly as he stepped inside.
On the far side of the room sat an older man behind a broad wooden desk. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, with a sturdy build that suggested he had once been a formidable warrior. His hair was a deep, weathered red, now streaked heavily with gray, and his beard—thick and well-kept—matched it, giving him a rugged but dignified appearance.
A long scar ran along his jawline, barely visible beneath the beard. His shoulders were broad, his posture straight, and his eyes—sharp and thoughtful—carried the weight of experience.
He wore simple clothing: a dark, sleeveless coat over a sturdy tunic, more practical than decorative. But even sitting at a desk, there was no mistaking the presence he carried.
This was not a man who had always sat behind paperwork.
This was someone who had fought.
Many times.
Guild Master Raiyo.
He looked up from a set of papers as the group entered.
"Well," he said, his voice deep and calm, "you're back sooner than expected."
Gallant bowed his head slightly. "Guild Master."
Rin gave a respectful nod. "Mission's complete."
Osbin crossed his arms. "And we didn't die. That's always a plus."
Raiyo's lips curved into a faint smile.
Then his eyes shifted.
They landed on Lars.
The smile faded, replaced by quiet curiosity.
"…And who," he asked slowly, "is the boy?"
Lars felt his chest tighten.
At the same time, he couldn't ignore the strange sensation filling the room. It was subtle, but unmistakable. That invisible pressure seemed to pour from the Guild Master like heat from a furnace.
It surrounded him.
Pressed against him.
What is that…? Lars wondered.
It felt just like the cave. Just like the forest. Just like the moment before his fist struck the wolf.
But stronger.
Much stronger.
His eyes unconsciously focused on Raiyo, studying him.
Is it coming from him…?
Across the room, Raiyo noticed the boy's gaze.
He felt it.
The way Lars was looking at him—not with fear, not with confusion, but with awareness.
…Interesting, Raiyo thought.
Can the boy see my mana?
He said nothing about it.
Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Well," he said, returning his attention to the group, "before we get into surprises, tell me—did the mission go smoothly?"
Osbin's shoulders tensed.
Raiyo's eyes narrowed just a fraction. "And Osbin… I heard about the damage report from your last outing. Care to explain why the supply wagon returned with half its armor cracked?"
Osbin groaned softly. "Here we go…"
Raiyo crossed his arms. "You're a knight, not a battering ram. If you keep treating equipment like it's disposable, we'll be bankrupt before the season ends."
Osbin muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the others to hear. "Knew this was coming…"
Rin smirked.
Tobi adjusted his glasses.
Gallant remained perfectly still.
Raiyo's eyes shifted back to the group. "Now. Report."
Gallant stepped forward.
"While retrieving materials in the restricted forest, we sensed a large disturbance. A shockwave. We investigated and found a feral gray—dead—and the surrounding area heavily damaged."
Raiyo's expression hardened slightly. "Cause?"
"That's the problem," Gallant replied. "We don't know."
Tobi spoke next. "We found the boy unconscious near the body. No signs of another party. No magical residue strong enough to trace. Nothing."
Rin crossed her arms. "And he was barely injured. No weapon. No proper gear. Just vines and leaves."
Osbin added, "Which doesn't make any sense, considering what that wolf could do."
Silence filled the room.
Raiyo's gaze returned to Lars, studying him more carefully now.
The boy looked small. Young. Harmless.
But the mana around him was… unusual.
And the way he had stared earlier—
There's more to this one, Raiyo thought.
Much more.
Silence lingered in the room after the group finished their report.
Guild Master Raiyo leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on Lars. The boy stood quietly among the guild members, his posture respectful, his expression calm—but there was something beneath the surface. Something Raiyo couldn't quite place.
He folded his arms.
"Well then," he said, his voice steady, "let's hear it from you."
All eyes shifted toward Lars.
"What's your name, boy?" Raiyo asked.
Lars straightened slightly. "Lars… Silverwing, sir."
Raiyo's brows drew together just a bit.
"Silverwing," he repeated. "And where are you from, Lars Silverwing?"
Lars hesitated, then answered as he had before.
"I'm… not from around this area. I don't remember much about how I ended up in the forest. I only know that I wasn't from here."
Raiyo watched him carefully. Not just the words—but the tone, the posture, the eyes.
There was nervousness, yes.
But also sincerity.
No arrogance. No pride. No fear of punishment. Just… uncertainty.
"You don't remember your home?" Raiyo asked.
Lars shook his head slowly. "No, sir."
Raiyo tapped a finger lightly against the arm of his chair.
Silverwing…
He ran the name through his memory.
Noble houses of Solaris.
Merchant families.
Foreign dignitaries.
Old bloodlines.
New ones.
Nothing.
"I've never heard of a Silverwing family," Raiyo said plainly.
Lars' heart skipped, but he kept his expression steady.
Raiyo studied him for another moment, then exhaled softly.
"Still," he said, "you don't look like a street urchin. And you survived a place most grown adventurers wouldn't last a day in."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Which means you're either very lucky… or very unusual."
Osbin smirked faintly at that.
But Raiyo didn't press further.
Instead, his expression softened just a fraction.
"Well, regardless of who you are or where you came from, one thing is certain—you don't have a place to stay."
Lars remained silent.
He truly didn't.
No home.
No family.
No plan.
Only questions.
Raiyo rested his arms on the desk. "The Wilds Guild isn't just a hunting outfit. We take care of our own. And right now, you don't have anyone."
Rin glanced at Lars with a gentle expression.
"So," Raiyo continued, "until we figure out who you are—or what to do with you—you can stay here."
Lars blinked in surprise. "Here…?"
Raiyo nodded. "We've got spare rooms. Nothing fancy, but it'll keep you warm and fed. In exchange, you'll help around the guild. Simple chores. Nothing dangerous."
Osbin crossed his arms. "So we're adopting him now?"
Raiyo shot him a look. "Unless you'd prefer we drop him back in the forest."
Osbin raised his hands. "Alright, alright. Point taken."
A quiet chuckle passed through the room.
Lars stood still, absorbing the offer.
He hadn't expected this.
He didn't even know what he had expected.
But he knew one thing for certain—he couldn't survive alone in this world. Not yet.
There was still so much he didn't understand. About this kingdom. About guilds. About the strange energy he kept sensing.
About himself.
If he stayed here… he might find answers.
Slowly, he bowed his head.
"…Thank you, Guild Master," he said. "I accept."
Raiyo nodded once. "Good. Then it's settled."
For the first time since his rebirth, Lars had something close to a place to stay.
Not a home.
But a beginning.
Lars bowed his head slightly.
"…Thank you, Guild Master. I accept."
Raiyo gave a single nod. "Good. Then it's settled."
Rin smiled. "Come on, Lars. We'll show you where you'll be staying."
Osbin stretched his shoulders. "And maybe get some food in him. Kid looks like he'll blow away in a strong breeze."
Tobi adjusted his glasses. "I'll prepare the paperwork for his temporary stay."
Gallant remained silent, watching Lars carefully.
The group turned and began heading for the door, Lars following a step behind them. As the heavy door opened again, the strange sensation in the air faded slightly, though he couldn't explain why.
He gave one last respectful nod to Raiyo before stepping out.
The door shut behind them with a deep, solid thud.
Silence returned to the room.
Raiyo remained seated, his eyes fixed on the closed door. After a moment, he spoke without turning.
"Gallant."
The knight, who had remained behind, stepped forward. "Guild Master."
Raiyo folded his hands on the desk. "What do you think of him?"
Gallant paused before answering. "He's polite. Well-mannered. Carries himself like someone raised in a noble household."
Raiyo nodded slightly. "And?"
"…But there's something unusual about him," Gallant admitted. "I can't place it. He feels… different."
Raiyo leaned back in his chair, his red-and-gray beard shifting as a faint smile formed.
"He noticed it," Raiyo said.
Gallant frowned. "Noticed what?"
"My mana," Raiyo replied. "The moment he entered this room, he could feel it. Maybe even see it."
Gallant's eyes widened slightly. "At his age…? And without training?"
"Exactly," Raiyo said quietly.
He tapped a finger against the desk.
"A boy with no past. No known house. Found in a restricted forest beside a dead feral gray and a shockwave strong enough to scatter the wildlife."
He exhaled slowly.
"Too many coincidences."
Gallant nodded. "What are your orders?"
Raiyo's faint smile returned.
"Keep a close eye on him."
He looked toward the door again.
"We may have someone very interesting in our presence."
The room fell silent once more.
Outside, the sounds of the guild echoed faintly through the halls—voices, laughter, the clatter of mugs and armor.
And somewhere among them…
Walked a boy who didn't yet know how much his life was about to change.