Drazien raised an eyebrow. "Why them?" he asked quietly. "Those children will forget you. Your name will be dust in their memory. The laughter you shared, the games, the meals—all gone. And still, you ask for their comfort?"
Allen looked down for a moment, then back up with steady eyes.
"Because I wanted to," he said simply. "And because... if Amy were here, she'd have done the same."
He took a slow breath. "The orphanage—it raised me. It fed me, scolded me, sheltered me when no one else would. It's more than a building. It's my home... my only family. If I can't return, the least I can do is leave something behind. You don't leave your parents to rot just because they forget your name."
For a long moment, Drazien said nothing. The air was unnaturally still, like the world itself was holding its breath. Then, a soft chuckle escaped him—quiet, strange, but not mocking.
"And there it is," he murmured. "The rarest kind of wish. One without strings."
He stood straighter. "You've passed, boy. Not a test I told you about—but one I've given countless times. And none have answered like you."
Drazien stood up, brushing dust from his worn-out coat. He held out his hand. A small ember of light pulsed between his fingers. "This is not part of your wishes. Think of it as... a personal gift. An acknowledgment."
The ember floated toward Allen and sank gently into his chest.
"From this moment on," Drazien said, "your training—be it sword, spell, or skill—will progress four times faster than normal. And you may share this blessing with two others, should you ever find comrades worth empowering."
Allen felt a warmth spread through his body. It wasn't fire or lightning. It felt like momentum—as if something inside him had shifted forward.
"A reward," Drazien said.
He snapped his fingers. A white light began to shimmer from Allen's chest, like fog rising from his very soul. It coiled upward and gently flowed into Drazien's waiting hand.
"I have received what you offered," Drazien said quietly. "The exchange is complete."
Then, the air itself bent. A thin vertical crack split open the space beside them. Light poured through like liquid silver, and the seam expanded until it became a glowing portal—wide enough for a man to walk through, humming with energy like a living thing.
"This portal is a one-way ticket," Drazien said. "You cannot return to this side anymore."
He looked into Allen's eyes, voice calm but deep. "Once you step into Elarion, your wishes will be fulfilled. But know this—everything from your world, every gadget, coin, and tool—will be left behind. Only your clothing will remain. The rest will disintegrate. You begin again."
Allen took a deep breath. The wind carried the scent of rain, and the world around him held its breath.
He stepped toward the glowing threshold.
"Amy," he whispered, "I'm coming."
And with that, he crossed into the unknown.
The moment he vanished, Drazien snapped his fingers once more. The portal shimmered, collapsed, and vanished. The fabric of reality closed like it had never been disturbed.
Raindrops began falling again. The bug resumed its flight. The storm returned to motion.
Drazien looked up at the sky, rain streaking his face.
"I hope this boy will help you," he murmured. "I've fulfilled your third wish..."