The caravan was already assembled when Kaito arrived — three wagons loaded with crates, a handful of merchants in travel cloaks, and four hired adventurers adjusting armor straps.
The leader, a tall man with streaked blond hair and a sharp jaw, gave Kaito a once-over.
"You're the new hand? Name's Darien. Keep up and don't start trouble."
"Yes, sir," Kaito replied, adjusting his belt. "I'll try not to trip over my own feet."
The group chuckled faintly, but Darien didn't. They set out soon after, wheels creaking as the forest swallowed the road.
Hours passed in steady rhythm — birds, hooves, the occasional rattle of a loose crate. Kaito walked beside the rearmost wagon, eyes scanning the treeline. Years in defense work had drilled pattern-recognition deep into him.
Something was off.
The forest felt too quiet.
He slowed his step. His right hand drifted toward his new sword.
"Eyes up," he murmured.
The warning came half a second before the first arrow hissed from the brush.
Darien barked orders as bandits poured from the trees — a dozen of them, rough leather, mismatched blades, wild grins. Kaito ducked behind the wagon, snapping the shaft of a stray arrow.
"Ambush! Shields front!"
He drew his sword and moved without thinking — low, controlled, efficient. One bandit charged; Kaito sidestepped, slamming the pommel into his jaw before sweeping his legs. Another came from the left — he parried, countered, steel singing in the air.
The merchants screamed, the other adventurers closed ranks, and for a minute it was chaos — metal, shouting, and blood in the dirt.
When it ended, five bandits were down, three fled into the woods, and the rest lay groaning on the roadside.
Kaito straightened, breathing hard, a trickle of sweat down his neck.
Darien approached, wiping his blade.
"Not bad for a newcomer. You've got training."
Kaito shrugged.
"Had a career in risk management."
Darien raised a brow. "That so?"
"Yessir. My old office was a little less scenic, though."
The man smirked and clapped his shoulder.
"Well, Mercer, I'll buy your drink when we reach Brisden."
They buried the dead by the road, as custom demanded. Kaito took a moment apart from the group, staring at the treeline where the last bandit had vanished.
The hum from the creek — that strange flicker of energy — came to mind again. He glanced at his hand, flexing his fingers.
"Something's stirrin'," he murmured. "And I got a feelin' it's fixin' to change the game."
As the caravan rolled on, he followed beside it, young face shadowed by the sun, sword steady at his hip.
A new world, new body, and a fight he didn't yet understand.
But hell — Kaito Mercer had never been one to back down from the unknown.
"Let's dance, destiny," he muttered with a grin.