Then Kael stepped forward. A faint pulse of spatial Aether rippled through the air as a small monolithic stone totem materialised above his palm from his Storage Ring. The object was miniature, just hovering over Kael's palm.
For a brief moment, Kael simply stared at it.
Then he placed it carefully into Alden's hand.
"Jaxom said this belongs to you."
The instant the stone touched his palm, Alden went still.
"So this is what he meant..." he murmured under his breath. The old swordsman lowered his eyes.
Remembering the old man's words.
No one interrupted him.
The wind whipped through the flying ship with a low howl, carrying the scent of smoke, metal, and distant rainclouds across the horizon. Yet Alden remained unmoving, staring at the stone like it carried the ghosts of an entire lifetime.
Hours later, the flying ship descended through the clouds toward Briarfield Town.
The sprawling settlement gradually emerged beneath them—clusters of tiled rooftops, narrow roads crowded with morning carts, and curling streams of chimney smoke rising into the cooling evening sky. Golden sunlight spilt across the town in fractured streaks as the ship cast a massive shadow overhead.
The moment they landed, the atmosphere turned chaotic.
Guild staff rushed forward. Healers barked instructions. Stretchers were hauled across the dock while the metallic groan of the ship's landing mechanisms echoed through the harbour platform.
Ronan barely registered any of it.
His body felt unbearably heavy, as though molten iron had been poured into his veins. Every distant voice sounded muffled and underwater. The only thing he truly remembered was Samantha gripping his shoulder while someone lifted him onto a stretcher.
Then darkness swallowed everything again.
Alden and Ronan were immediately rushed to the town hospital while the others retired to a nearby inn for the night, too drained to argue otherwise.
As the sun dipped behind the horizon, the hospital halls glowed beneath rows of amber crystal lamps. The air smelled sharply of herbs, antiseptic oils, and burnt medicinal incense. Somewhere down the corridor, someone coughed violently while nurses hurried between rooms carrying steaming bowls and bundles of bandages.
Inside one quiet chamber, a healer stood beside Ronan's bed.
The elderly man leaned closer, narrowing his eyes as he studied the unconscious boy's face. Trying to remember his face.
The healer's brows slowly climbed upward.
"Isn't this the one who was hit by the Corrupted Flames?" he muttered, disbelief slipping into his voice.
Another healer passing by the doorway paused briefly before grimacing.
"The same one. And he survived. And hurt again."
The old healer clicked his tongue softly and glanced back toward Ronan again, his expression turning increasingly complicated.
"What kind of monster are these children becoming nowadays?"
The next morning, Ronan finally stirred awake.
A low groan escaped him as consciousness clawed its way back piece by piece. His head throbbed horribly. Even opening his eyes felt like dragging rusted blades across his skull.
A pale, unfamiliar ceiling greeted him.
He frowned immediately.
For several long seconds, he simply stared upward in confusion while his sluggish mind struggled to catch up. Then memory slammed into him all at once.
"...ugh."
His throat felt dry enough to crack.
A soft rustle sounded beside the bed.
Ronan turned his head and found Samantha sitting nearby in a wooden chair. Her arms were crossed tightly beneath her chest, but the tension in her posture eased the instant she saw him awake. Dark circles lingered faintly beneath her eyes, as though she hadn't slept properly.
"You're awake," she said.
A small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.
Ronan blinked slowly. "Yeah... unfortunately."
The healer standing near the window gave a stern grunt before walking over. "For the next few days, avoid using any powerful magic. Your soul needs rest."
Ronan immediately groaned louder and threw his head back against the pillow.
"Yes, yes, no magic. Got it."
The healer's eye twitched faintly.
Samantha leaned forward slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling?"
Ronan scowled at the ceiling.
"Pretty bad. My perception basically got obliterated." He lifted a hand weakly, flexing his fingers irritably. "And other methods eat through Aether like crazy. Everything feels sluggish."
Even speaking felt wrong.
Normally, the world around him buzzed with layered sensory awareness. He could instinctively feel motion, presence, and intent.
Now?
Everything felt muted and distant.
Like someone had stuffed cloth over his senses.
Ronan grimaced harder.
Then, with all the exaggerated despair he could muster, he dramatically threw an arm over his eyes.
"Aaaaah! What am I supposed to do now? My life is over!"
The healer rolled his eyes so hard it looked painful.
"You should be more concerned about staying alive." He snatched up a parchment sheet from the nearby table and began scribbling furiously. "First Corrupted Flames. Then soul injuries. What's next? Planning to jump directly into a monster's mouth for entertainment?"
Ronan lowered his arm slightly and stared at him with wounded disbelief.
"Stop. Please."
But the healer ignored him entirely.
"Your sister mentioned the nightmares." He continued writing before thrusting the parchment toward Ronan. "Try these medications before sleep. They may help stabilise your condition."
Ronan accepted the prescription with an embarrassed sigh.
Of course, Samantha told him.
"...Thank you."
The healer gave him one last pointed stare.
"And remember. No magic."
"Yes, sir," Ronan muttered weakly.
"Thank you, Sir," Samantha added politely, dipping her head.
A short while later, the two stepped out of the hospital together.
The morning sun struck Ronan directly in the face like divine punishment.
He hissed and immediately raised a hand to shield his eyes. The warmth felt pleasant after the sterile chill of the hospital halls, but the brightness stabbed straight through his pounding headache.
"So," she said lightly, "want to check out the marketplace before heading to the guild?"
Ronan shrugged. "Sure. It's on the way anyway."
The streets of Briarfield were already lively despite the early hour. Merchants shouted over one another while opening their stalls. The scent of fried meat skewers and fresh bread drifted through the air, mixing with damp stone and woodsmoke. Wagon wheels rattled loudly across the uneven roads while adventurers carrying oversized weapons wandered between shops.
For a while, they simply walked side by side.
But Ronan gradually noticed Samantha had grown unusually quiet.
Normally, she would already be teasing him relentlessly.
Instead, her smile had faded into something softer, distracted. She kept her eyes ahead, fingers loosely clasped behind her back, while absentmindedly kicking at tiny pebbles along the roadside.
Ronan slowed slightly before matching her pace.
"You alright?"
Samantha gave a faint nod, though it came a little too late.
"Yeah." Her voice softened. "Just... a little sad, I guess."
She paused briefly.
"My little brother doesn't tell me everything anymore like he used to."
The words were quiet, almost casual.
That somehow made them hit harder.
"I miss those times."
Ronan opened his mouth automatically, some sarcastic response already forming out of habit.
But the moment he glanced sideways and saw the genuine ache hidden beneath her smile, the words died in his throat.
The bustling noise of the street suddenly felt farther away.
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"Don't worry so much," he said more quietly. "I know I'm still not strong enough yet... but I won't do anything reckless."
Samantha gave him a look.
Ronan immediately coughed.
"...okay, too reckless."
That earned the faintest snort from her.
He continued before the courage disappeared.
"I promise I'll come back alive." His gaze drifted toward the crowded street ahead. "I still need to travel the world with you, Kairos, and everyone else, right?"
A small grin tugged at his lips.
"And I want to protect all of you someday."
Samantha's steps slowed.
For just a moment, the bustling marketplace around them blurred away.
Instead, she remembered two children sitting beside a quiet lakeside beneath a sky overflowing with stars. Ronan had been enthusiastically waving his arms around while talking about distant kingdoms, hidden ruins, giant monsters, and impossible adventures.
Back then, his eyes had sparkled with uncomplicated certainty.
One day, they would see the world together.
The memory tightened something painfully warm inside her chest.
A rare wistful smile finally surfaced on her face.
Ronan immediately noticed it and grinned triumphantly.
"There. That's better."
Then he looked forward again and muttered with deliberate smugness, "Little brother still has some secrets he can't share yet."
Samantha glanced sideways at him.
Her expression slowly shifted.
The wistfulness vanished first.
Then the corners of her lips curled upward.
Dangerously.
"Like teasing Lyra in the middle of the night?"
"Mhm-hmm," Ronan hummed absentmindedly.
A second passed.
Then his brain finally processed the sentence.
He turned so sharply that he nearly tripped over his own foot.
"Wait—what?!" His eyes widened in horror. "When did you hear about that? Who told you?!"
Samantha leaned closer with the predatory satisfaction of a cat cornering prey.
"So you did tease her."
Ronan froze.
His face instantly burned crimson.
"Hmph! She was spying on us while Darius was meditating!" he blurted defensively. "I just asked what she was doing there! Don't twist the story like I'm some villain!"
"Aren't you?" Samantha asked innocently.
The sheer fake disappointment in her voice nearly killed him on the spot.
"Besides..." Her grin widened. "Do you remember what your clone did?"
The memory attacked Ronan with perfect clarity.
Lyra is absorbing the Crimson Flame.
His clone is dramatically gasping.
"My flame!"
And unfortunately... his eyes had not exactly been focused on the flame.
Ronan buried his face in one hand.
"That reaction was about the flame! Not... not that!"
Samantha nearly doubled over laughing.
She tried to hold it in, her shoulders shaking violently as silent wheezing escaped her between breaths.
"I can't believe my little brother turned out like this," she managed. "I failed as a sister. Truly. My shame is immeasurable."
"Shut up!" Ronan groaned. "This is actual torture."
He dragged both hands down his face.
"I seriously need a disguise skill. That clone is destroying my reputation."
Samantha bumped his shoulder playfully with hers.
"By the way," she added far too casually, "you do realise Lyra is four or five years older than you, right?"
Ronan stared at her in complete disbelief.
Then he groaned toward the heavens.
"Will you shut up already? One more word and I'm abandoning you in the marketplace."
Samantha raised both hands innocently.
"Okay, okay. No more teasing."
Three seconds later, another giggle escaped her.
Ronan sighed dramatically and shook his head, but he couldn't stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The embarrassment was unbearable.
But beneath it all, something warm settled quietly in his chest.
Comforting.
Familiar.
Safe.
Like coming home after wandering too far.
He glanced sideways at Samantha again.
"You're still the world's most annoying big sister."
This time, her smile softened completely.
"And you're still my ridiculous little brother."
The two continued walking through the lively streets together while the morning sun stretched long shadows behind them. Around them, Briarfield bustled with noise and life, but for that brief stretch of road, the world felt strangely light again.
For once, neither of them wanted to rush the moment.