"My years of experience in the dungeons have made me blind from reality."
Those were the words Mira had spoken to Leslie to ease his mind, making him believe she had no intention of killing the child behind her back. That wasn't true --- she might have dealt with danger often, but this child was one of the things she was sure about. It was the creature without a doubt. That said, there were three odd factors to consider: the creature had turned into a child, it was much weaker than its original form, and her intuition didn't pick up on it unless it could kill her. The only thing that remained the same was its violent behavior. So, she came up with an unspoken ultimatum. If it couldn't reform and become a half decent person by the time it reached adulthood, she would kill it.
***
Leslie felt his legs tire as they walked across the grass-fields. He looked at Mira who was carrying the unconscious boy, and couldn't help but think that she was likely more tired than he was. He could tell that she was keeping a straight face to hide the strain, yet it was still there. They had both been walking for a while, and didn't find a path of some sort or even a person yet. Deciding to find something else to think about, Leslie spoke up.
"Mira, are you able to access the system?" he asked.
Ever since Leslie came out of the rift, he wasn't able to access the system once or use his spells. He was curious if that was the case with Mira.
"No, I'm not able to, but my intuition skill seems to still work." she replied.
"Oh, do any other of your abilities work besides that one?"
"Nope. Just that one."
"Why do you think that is?"
It was peculiar that it was just skill that worked for her. None of his skills were working, so why did she at least have a working one? Mira thought about it before answering him.
"I think it depends on whether or not our passive skills work hand in hand with our active skills."
"What do you mean by that?"
"For instance, my intuition skill, a passive skill, isn't tied to any active skills I have and works. On the other hand, my other passive skill, Steady Hand and Mind!, is tied with an active skill and doesn't work."
"So, you're saying that since we can't use our active skills, our passive skills tied to our active skills are unusable. But the passive skills not tied to our active skills are usable?"
"Basically and theoretically, yeah." Mira quipped.
"I see..."
Leslie couldn't believe it. Her words meant that he had zero skills coming into this world. After all, all of his passives skills were about buffing up his healing spells which were active skills. While he was disappointed with that fact, he was also curious about two other things.
"By the way Mira, what does your intuition skill do anyway? I've always been curious about that." he asked, eyes bright with interest.
"Basically, what it means. It's feeling I get when I'm in danger or when danger's coming my way." she responded, smoothly.
"That's all!" Leslie blurted, surprised that's all it did.
"Hey, don't underestimate it ... I mean, it's kept me alive for the 10 years I worked under the MRS." she remarked dryly.
Leslie couldn't refute with that fact. It was already unusual how she managed to stay alive inspecting dungeons for a decade as a D-rank Awakener. Her survival record could be just because of her intuition skill, but he doubted that it all there was to it. Though, there was really no point in thinking about it. They weren't in New York anymore and they were stuck inside the bodies of very much younger version of themselves. It was a mystery he doubted anyone knew but asked Mira about it anyway.
"How long do you think we'll be children for?"
Mira took a moment to answer, uncertain what to say.
"... I'm not sure. Going through that rift did somethingto us. Our ages have regressed, everything we came with is missing, and even the system --- and our abilities --- are gone. ...Honestly, I don't really see a way to get back to New York at this point."
A heavy silence hung between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Unanimously, they both decided to focus on walking in peace. Neither of them wanted to think of anything else.
***
It had been an hour --- or so, Mira assumed. She could feel the ache of her bones with every step she took, and she was sweating everywhere at this point. The boy behind her back didn't help either. She couldn't help but wonder why the kid was knocked out cold for so long. Yeah, he hit his head against a rock and knocked himself out. That didn't mean he had to stay that way for an hour. Besides, she was mere seconds away from dropping the kid.
Which would have been the case if they weren't picked up by a kind lady. Luckily for all of them, they spoke the same language. The lady's name was Mareth. She had seen them and wanted to help them. That's why the three of them were currently hitching a ride on a carriage with Mareth.
Leslie had fallen asleep within mere minutes of getting in --- probably worn out from all the walking. The boy, on the other hand, was still unconscious. Mira was the only one awake.
Instead of giving in to exhaustion, she observed Mareth. Based on appearance, Mareth was a young woman in her twenties and was religiously involved judging by her clothes. She was wearing long, ankle-length habit of dove-grey wool, plain and unadorned. Over her habit fell a sleeveless over-robe, a scapular, in deeper ash-grey. It draped to her knees, front and back like a tabard, and bore the sigil of some sort. At her waist was a corded belt of woven flax, from which hanged a wooden pendant and beside it dangled a rosary of nine beads. Her shoes were simple leather flats, and seemingly soft-soled. Moreover, she wore a linen veil, pale as smoke, pinned under her chin so it framed her face, and covered her ears and neck. Beneath it, strands of dark blonde hair appeared faintly --- like sunlight caught in ash. Her skin held the warm tone of a life half-lived outdoors, and freckles marked her nose where she'd forgotten the sun. Green eyes, bright and comforting, faced toward Mira's brown ones.
Mira's observations of her were interrupted as Mareth addressed her, whose serene gaze seemed to ease Mira's worries.
"Tell me, little one --- what do they call you?"
"... It's Mira, miss." Mira answered, still wary of Mareth's kindness.
Mareth's smile widened, gentle and teasing. "Mira! What a lovely name. Very bright, just like the first morning sun." She reached out lightly, brushing a strand of hair from Mira's forehead. "Do any of the other children have names as bright as yours?"
Mira, surprised by the sudden closeness, took a few moments to regain her composure before answering.
"The one to my left is Leslie and the one to my right --- I'm not sure what his name is."
"Ah… I see." Mareth tilted her head, curiosity soft but patient. "And ... what happened today?"
Mira's lips pressed tight, unsure what to say. She couldn't say that all three of them were from a different dimension and suddenly turned into children. Nor, could she think of a reasonable excuse for that question. As if Mareth sensed Mira tensing up, she quickly dismissed the question.
"That's alright," Mareth said softly, placing a warm hand over Mira's. "You don't have to tell me if it's too heavy right now." Her voice was calm, cheerful, yet carried a quiet reassurance. "I'm just here to help you rest."
In a swift motion, Mareth lifted her hands letting faint blue shimmer of light ripple across her fingers. The air near Mira grew faintly humid, the sound of gentle trickling water filling the space, soothing and rhythmic. Mira blinked, mesmerized as the sensation wrapped around her like a soft blanket.
"Close your eyes, little one," Mareth whispered. "Let the water carry away the worry, just for a while. Tomorrow, we can face it together, if you like."
Perhaps Mira was tired from everything, but Mareth's voice seemed to be filled with warmth and tenderness. Slowly, Mira's eyelids drooped, the tension leaving her body. Any attempts to resist sleep were thrown out the window and Mira soon fell into a deep repose.
Mareth stayed close, hands still glowing faintly, until Mira was asleep, a quiet smile of relief on her own face.
***
Seeing the three children across from her, Mareth couldn't help but wonder where they came from. There had been no news of missing children or anyone suspicious coming into Vel recently. She hadn't recognized the children to be residents of the village either.
Regardless, these children needed her help. They all wore nothing but a white tunic and black drawers. They hadn't been wearing shoes, and the soles of their feet were covered in dirt and sand.
In like manner, the children were all tired, and exhausted --- most likely due to physical fatigue. What concerned her the most was how Mira, the girl, looked tense. Mareth could tell Mira was mature for her age, even so, she had never seen a child with such a tired look in her eyes.