Bastin, lost in thought, tried to make sense of Erythros' Syroche and the spell she had just used. The crimson light faded, and they found themselves in a place that felt strangely Nostalgic to Bastin. The air was warmer, carrying the scent of incense and cattle. Bells rang from a nearby temple, their sound blending with the soft murmur of Sanskrit verses. A small pond shined under the sun, lotuses floating on its surface, and the streets carried an old-world charm.
Baran looked around, puzzled. "Where are we now?"
"Varanasi," Erythros answered. "In India. East of where you come from."
Bastin remained silent. He hadn't been told about this part of the plan. He turned to Erythros, his expression questioning, but she simply started walking.
Baran, still confused, muttered, "Why did you bring us here?"
Erythros glanced back, her face unreadable. "Because this is where you need to be in order to be trained as a Warrior."
Bastin Said. "You keep saying things like that. Can't you just explain properly?"
Erythros sighed. "You'll understand soon. For now, let me show you the place you'll be staying. You must be tired after everything."
Baran let out a short laugh. "Tired? We just teleported across countries in seconds. Yeah, totally normal."
Erythros ignored his comment and walked ahead. Bastin followed, but something about this place felt strange to him. Almost as if he had been here before.
As they climbed the steps of the temple, Bastin couldn't help but wonder why they were heading inside. His confusion deepened when Erythros led them through the entrance.
Inside, the air was thick with the fragrance of camphor and incense. Disciples dressed in saffron robes were busy cleaning, their rhythmic movements almost meditative. The atmosphere was calm yet alive, carrying a sense of devotion Bastin had never quite experienced before.
"So heavenly," he murmured, taking it all in.
The disciples noticed them almost immediately. One of them, a tall man with a gentle smile, greeted Erythros. "Lady Erythros," he said with a respectful nod. Another, younger and more excited, grinned. "New buds, I see?"
A small boy, three years old, suddenly came running towards them. His bright eyes were filled with a desperate hope. "Mum and Dad? Did you find them? Did you find any hints about our Syroche?"
Erythros knelt slightly, placing a hand on the boy's head. For a moment, a look of sorrow crossed her face. She sighed before turning to Bastin. "I think you and Drengvar might get along well," she said, offering a faint smile.
Bastin looked at the boy, who stared back at him with open curiosity. Something about his innocence reminded him of the life he had experienced behind. Maybe, just maybe, he had found an unexpected friend in this strange place.
Erythros glanced around and then said, "First, let's find you a place to stay and rest."
The temple had a dormitory attached to it, simple yet peaceful. Just across from it, facing north, was a more spiritual section of the temple, from where the soft, rhythmic chanting of verses echoed.
"Master Jivyuj?" Erythros turned to the older disciple nearby. He gave her a nod of acknowledgment.
"We'll meet him later," she murmured, almost to herself, before leading the way towards the dormitory.
As they walked, Bastin's gaze lingered on Drengvar. There was something about the little boy—his quiet curiosity, the way he clung to hope—that made Bastin notice him again.
Just as Bastin turned back to follow Erythros, Drengvar suddenly crept up beside him.
"Hey?" the boy said softly.
Bastin flinched slightly, caught off guard. "What's the matter?" he asked.
Drengvar tilted his head, eyes shining with innocent curiosity. "What's your name?"
Bastin sighed out and didn't reply.
"What's your name?" Drengvar repeated, his small feet barely making a sound on the smooth stone floor.
"Bastin," he replied. "And you?"
"Drengvar." The boy smiled. "Where are you from?"
Bastin hesitated for a moment. "I... don't really know," he admitted. "We kept moving from one place to another, so I never had a real home."
Drengvar nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. I was born in Norway, but I don't really remember much about it. Everything's a blur."
"Norway?" Bastin's curiosity piqued. "Is it cold there?"
Drengvar grinned. "Very. Lots of snow, frozen lakes, and the nights are long in winter."
Bastin imagined a place covered in white, far from the warmth of this temple. "I've never seen snow," he said. "But I think I'd like to."
Drengvar's eyes widened. "Never? Then you have to! Snowflakes feel like tiny cold feathers on your face."
Bastin chuckled at the description. "Sounds nice."
Erythros, walking a few steps ahead, listened to their conversation, glancing back at them with quiet amusement. They talk like they've seen the world, she thought. More mature than children their age should be. Three-year-olds shouldn't communicate like that. I wonder... Could they be reincarnated? Maybe with only minor knowledge of their past memories?
She didn't say it out loud, but the thought lingered in her mind as she led them deeper into the temple.
Baran, still trying to make sense of their surroundings, furrowed his brows. "What is this place, really? I still don't get what we're supposed to do here."
Erythros, lost in her thoughts just moments ago, snapped back to the present. "Don't worry," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "Your seniors will explain everything."
As they stepped inside, they were met with a vast dormitory—long rows of simple, identical beds stretched across the hall. Drengvar, his excitement evident, ran ahead, counting each one with wide eyes.
"This many beds… do all the students sleep here?" Bastin wondered aloud.
Drengvar, still counting, piped up. "More than a hundred!"
Bastin took a closer look—each bed neatly arranged, belongings tucked away underneath. Everything had a place. But something felt odd. If this many students lived here, where was everyone?
Baran, noticing it too, voiced the question first. "Where are all?"
Erythros glanced around, unfazed. "Different students, different responsibilities. Some are cleaning, some are studying, some are training. Everyone has their own tasks at different times."
Bastin nodded slowly, taking it all in. This wasn't just a place to sleep—it was something more, something structured. And for some reason, he had a feeling their stay here wouldn't be just for rest.
"So," Erythros began, but her gaze drifted back to Drengvar. She crouched slightly and asked, "Did anyone assign you a bed, little Frostluf?"
Drengvar shook his head, his small face shadowed with uncertainty.
"Alright, then we need four beds," Erythros decided. "I won't be staying here at night, but you three will need a proper place to rest."
Baran, still adjusting to everything, frowned. "Wait, if you're not staying, why four beds? There are just three of us."
"Don't forget about Ani," Bastin reminded him.
"Oh, right—Yusuf," Baran muttered, nodding.
Erythros walked towards a corner of the dormitory, scanning the area. "I think these four beds are vacant."
Bastin glanced at them. There were no signs of belongings, no scattered clothes or books—just neatly made bedding. "So I guess we can take these," Erythros confirmed.
Just then, a hurried sound of footsteps echoed from the entrance. A young Japanese disciple sprinted inside, panting.
"Lady Erythros!" he called out, his voice urgent.
Bastin saw a Brooch, more specifically a yellow Syroche pinned to his robe.
Erythros turned sharply. "What's wrong, Sagishito-san?"
"Master Jivyuj fell from the ladder!"
"What?!" Erythros' eyes widened, and without another word, she bolted from the room, following Sagishito. Ebjsjs
Baran quickly placed his bag by his chosen bed, and Bastin did the same, setting the small gift Baran had given him next to it. But the urgency of the moment gripped them, and within seconds, they were both rushing after Erythros, They ran—!