The final morning in the Azure Mist Forest was not heralded by fanfare or grand speeches.
There was only a heavy silence as Elian laced up his new leather boots—handcrafted by Lunaria from the hide of the Shadow Panther he had hunted months ago.
The giant hollow tree that had been his home for the last six months now stood empty. Potion bottles were packed, furs folded neatly into Lunaria's spatial bag, and the remains of the campfire extinguished until cold.
"Don't stare at that wall like a jilted lover," Lunaria's voice broke the silence. She stood at the natural doorway, clad in a dull grey travel cloak that covered her entire body. Her hood was pulled low, hiding her pointed Elven ears and striking silver hair.
"I am not sad," Elian replied flatly. He stood, slinging a simple leather bag over his shoulder. At his waist rested the Elven short sword and the stolen steel dagger. "I'm just making sure no traces remain. If the Solara Empire finds this place, I don't want them knowing what we did here."
"Good. Paranoia is your best friend," Lunaria nodded in approval. She tossed a similar dark brown cloak to Elian. "Wear this. Cover your face. In the outside world, your beauty is a curse, not a gift. Especially in a border city like Stormwatch."
Elian donned the cloak. The fabric was coarse and smelled of dust, a sharp contrast to his silk-smooth skin. He pulled the hood up, leaving a dark shadow over the upper half of his face, revealing only pale red lips and a pointed chin.
"Let's go," Lunaria invited.
They stepped out.
Instantly, the forest wind blew gently against Elian's face. Unlike the strong gusts that usually shook the branches, this wind felt... affectionate.
Falling leaves didn't scatter randomly; they formed a small path before Elian's feet. Tree branches that usually blocked the way seemed to bend of their own accord to give him space. Protruding roots flattened themselves as Elian prepared to step on them.
Elian paused, his hand touching the bark of a nearby tree. He felt a faint pulse there.
Go, My Child. Grow.And return when you are ready to tear the sky apart.
The whisper was not heard by his ears, but echoed in his blood. It was not Lunaria's voice, nor the voice of a ghost. It was a voice older than the gods.
"What is it?" Lunaria asked, stopping and turning back.
"Nothing," Elian withdrew his hand. "Just... saying goodbye."
They walked south.
The trek out of the forest took two full days. During the journey, Elian felt a drastic change in the atmosphere. The mana in the air, which had been pure, wild, and dense, slowly began to thin and feel "dirty."
As the trees began to thin out, replaced by muddy paths made by humans, Elian frowned. The air here smelled of woodsmoke, horse manure, and greed.
In the distance, high grey stone walls rose up, surrounded by a filthy moat. The Port City of Stormwatch.
The flag of the Kingdom of Noctis—depicting a Black Crescent Moon with a Sword—fluttered listlessly atop the watchtower.
"Listen, Elian," Lunaria whispered as they hid behind the final shrubbery before entering the main road. "In there, I am not an Elf Queen. I am Lena, a traveling herbalist. And you are Eli, my mute assistant. Do not speak unless absolutely forced. Your voice is too refined for a boy your age; it will arouse suspicion."
"Mute?" Elian raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Mutes get into less trouble. And you," Lunaria pointed at Elian's eyes. "Don't look at people with that murderous gaze. Dull your eyes. Act like a sheep afraid of the slaughter."
Elian took a deep breath, then exhaled. His shoulders slumped slightly, his head bowed, and he pushed his cold aura deep into his bones. When he lifted his face again, his eyes looked vacant, slightly trembling, exactly like a terrified child.
"How is this?" Elian asked, his voice feigning a tremor.
Lunaria smirked. "Perfect. You truly have a talent for being a master deceiver."
They joined the flow of human traffic heading toward the city gates. There were merchant carts, noisy groups of adventurers, and a few emaciated refugees.
upon reaching the gate, two guards in rusted iron armor stopped them. The guards possessed dim Tier 1 Aura Cores—weak, but enough to oppress commoners.
"Halt. Entry fee is two silver coins per person," one guard said roughly, his bloodshot eyes scanning Lunaria's figure beneath her cloak.
Lunaria produced four silver coins and handed them over. "For both of us, Sir."
The guard took the coins but didn't move aside. Instead, he leaned in toward Elian.
"Lower your hood, Kid," the guard commanded. "We're looking for spies from the Azura Federation. Lots of children are used as smugglers."
Elian froze. He glanced at Lunaria. Lunaria gave a barely perceptible nod.
Slowly, Elian lowered his hood.
Instantly, the noise at the gate died down.
Though his face was smudged with travel dust, Elian's beauty pierced through the grime. His long black hair framed a perfectly symmetrical face, his skin was white jade, and his large black eyes radiated a (fake) fragile innocence. He looked like a living porcelain doll misplaced in this filthy city gate.
The guard's jaw dropped. His Adam's apple bobbed. "By the Gods... are you a boy or a girl?"
"He is a boy, Sir," Lunaria interjected quickly, her voice feigning impatience. "He is my nephew. A bit... slow in the head and mute. Please don't scare him."
The guard licked his lips, a disgusting grin spreading across his face. He reached out with a dirty hand, intending to touch Elian's cheek. "Too bad he's a boy. But with skin this smooth..."
Inside Elian, a burning disgust flared. The killing intent he had suppressed threatened to explode. He had already visualized twelve ways to break the guard's fingers, stab his neck with the hidden dagger, or crush his groin.
Touch me, and you die, Elian thought coldly.
However, before the guard's filthy fingers could graze Elian's skin, a strong gust of wind blew out of nowhere.
Street dust swirled up, flying directly into the guard's eyes.
"Argh! My eyes!" The guard stumbled back, rubbing his eyes frantically. "Damn it! What kind of wind was that?!"
Elian stood frozen. He hadn't done anything. Neither had Lunaria.
The wind... felt familiar.
Like a possessive, protective embrace. As if the World itself was angry that a filthy creature dared to touch "Its property."
Thank you, Elian thought, unsure of who he was thanking.
"Are we done?" Lunaria asked coldly. "We need to get inside."
"Go! Get out of here!" the guard barked, still rubbing his red, watering eyes. "Take that freak away!"
They passed through the gate and entered the chaos of Stormwatch.
The city was an assault on the senses. The stench of rotting fish from the harbor mixed with the smell of cheap spices and human sweat. Wooden buildings were crammed together; the streets were muddy and littered with horse dung. The shouts of merchants, the cries of babies, and the laughter of whores from brothels created a cacophony of noise.
Elian pulled his hood back down deep. His eyes darted wildly beneath the shadow, recording every detail. Escape routes, guard positions, weapon shop locations, and dark alleys.
"Welcome to civilization, Elian," Lunaria whispered sarcastically. "A place where the law of the jungle is wrapped in fake smiles and paper contracts."
"It's disgusting," Elian muttered softly. "Worse than a boar's den."
"We'll find a cheap inn in the east district. After that, I'll teach you how to register at the Adventurer's Guild," Lunaria said. "You need an official identity if you want to move freely on this continent without being suspected as a fugitive."
They walked through the town square. In the center, there was a wooden stage. A crowd was cheering.
Elian turned and saw a sight that made his blood boil.
On the stage, a fat slave trader was whipping a Beastkin girl—a Cat-person. She was chained, stark naked, her body covered in bruises. Her cat ears drooped, her eyes vacant.
"Twenty gold coins! Who wants this stray cat? She's young! We've already pulled her teeth!" the trader shouted.
People laughed. Some shouted bids.
Elian's hand moved toward the hilt of his sword under his cloak. His muscles tensed.
A cold hand gripped his wrist. Hard.
"Don't," Lunaria whispered in his ear. Her tone was harsh. "You can't save everyone. If you draw your sword here, we will be surrounded by hundreds of guards and mercenaries. Our mission fails. You die. I get exposed."
"But she..." Elian's voice choked. He saw himself in that girl. Weak. Played with.
"This world is hell, Elian," Lunaria said, dragging him away from the crowd. "You are only seeing the outer layer. Keep your anger. Burn it in your heart. Use it to get stronger. One day, you can burn that stage and this entire city. But not today."
Elian gritted his teeth until they creaked. He forced his legs to walk away, leaving the girl behind. Every step felt heavy. Every laugh from the audience felt like a needle stabbing his ears.
This was the reality he had to face. Justice did not exist. Gods did not intervene. Only power spoke.
By the time they arrived at an old inn named "The Rusty Anchor," Elian had regained his composure. His face was flat, his emotions locked tight in a coffin within his heart.
"One room with two beds," Lunaria told the innkeeper, slapping down a few copper coins.
That night, Elian sat on the edge of the hard, musty bed. He drew his short sword, staring at the clean blade.
"Master," Elian called out.
Lunaria, who was cleaning her face, turned. "What?"
"This weapon..." Elian raised the sword. "It's not enough. When I saw that guard, or that slave trader... I felt this sword was too 'light'. Not in weight, but... in soul."
"Of course," Lunaria nodded, removing her cloak. "Elven swords are good for cutting wind, but they lack hunger. You, Elian, have a void in your soul that can only be filled by something as hungry as you are."
Lunaria walked over and sat beside Elian.
"In this world, there are weapons called Soulbound Armaments. They are not forged from iron, but from living materials or the remnants of ancient entities. They choose their masters. They are alive."
Elian stared at his hands. "Where can I find one?"
"You don't find them. Fate brings them to you," Lunaria answered mysteriously. "Maybe in a pile of trash, maybe in a forgotten god's temple, or maybe in the belly of a monster."
"Sleep, Eli," Lunaria blew out the candle. "Tomorrow we register as Adventurers. And remember, you are a weak, mute boy. Let them underestimate you. Until you stab them in the heart."
In the darkness of the room, Elian lay down. But his eyes remained open, staring at the cracked wooden ceiling. He heard Lunaria's steady breathing and the noise of drunks downstairs.
Suddenly, he felt a strange warmth in his chest. As if someone was hugging him from behind, even though no one was there.
Sleep, My Beloved. I am watching over you.
Elian smiled faintly. Very faintly.
"Goodnight, World," he whispered soundlessly.