The morning air was still cool when Aren stepped outside.
The sky was only beginning to lighten, washed in pale colors, and the village was still asleep. He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, then glanced one last time at the door behind him.
Nila was there, as she always was when he left before sunrise.
She handed him a small bundle wrapped in cloth.
"Eat whenever you can."
Aren nodded.
"I will."
Rob stood a little behind her and placed a hand on Aren's shoulder.
"Be careful."
Aren didn't answer right away. He lowered his head slightly, then turned and walked away. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at the village—the low houses, the dirt paths, the familiar trees.
Only then did he realize something simple.
This return would not be soon.
He turned his back and continued on the road.
The days that followed passed in near silence.
Aren walked alone, on foot, along the roads leading toward the Empire of Yevell. From time to time, he crossed paths with merchants and their loaded wagons, pilgrims heading for the Academy, and most of all… other candidates.
Young men his age, sometimes older, almost always escorted. Well-kept horses, carriages, armed guards. Animated conversations, laughter, and sometimes poorly hidden nervousness.
Aren watched without jealousy.
Only with clarity.
He walked alone.
And he kept moving forward.
The night when everything changed came without warning.
Aren had set up a simple camp away from the road. A small fire, just enough to keep warm. He sat down to tend to his feet, already worn from the long march. His hands too, still bore the marks of relentless training.
He stared at the fire for a long time.
Even if I get in… how long will I last?
He closed his eyes and tried once again to sense mana.
As always, there was nothing. Not even a spark.
He sighed, frustrated but not defeated, and stood to add more wood to the fire.
That was when he heard hesitant footsteps.
"Um… excuse me."
Aren turned sharply, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.
A boy stood there, slightly shorter than him, thin, exhausted. His clothes were wrinkled, his bag nearly empty.
"I… I saw the fire. Can I stay here for the night?"
Aren studied him for a moment.
"No."
The boy blinked.
"Just… just for tonight. I was robbed on the road. I lost my sleeping bag. And my food."
Aren remained silent.
"I'll sleep on the ground," the boy added quickly. "I won't take anything."
Aren looked away, then sighed.
"Come closer. But stay near the fire."
The boy smiled instantly, relieved.
"Thank you! My name's Jariz."
They sat on opposite sides of the fire. Aren took out some food—what Nila had prepared—and gave part of it to Jariz.
"Where are you from?" Aren asked.
"I was born in Aurelion. I'm a commoner. And you?"
"Valenor."
"And your family?"
Jariz hesitated, then smiled weakly.
"My parents are merchants. They want me to become strong, for reasons I don't really understand. They sent me to the Academy. Me… I'm not sure what I want."
Aren smiled faintly, nostalgic.
"Funny. In my case, it's the opposite. My parents would rather I live quietly as a hunter."
"But they still support what I choose," Aren added after a pause.
They talked for a while longer. Calmly. No tension. No competition.
When the fire began to die down, Jariz spoke again.
"Do you think… we could continue the journey together?"
"I don't feel like it," Aren replied flatly.
"Why? I can give you the money I have left if you want."
Aren sighed.
"Relax. I was joking."
Jariz let out a deep breath.
"Oh—thank goodness."
Then he said, as if remembering something:
"By the way… there's a less-traveled road toward the border. People don't charge you there. If you want to save money, we could go that way."
Aren nodded.
"Alright."
They woke the next morning, dismantled their camp, and resumed their journey.
The farther they walked, the closer the barrier came into view.
"We finally made it to Yevell!" Jariz exclaimed happily.
Aren remained silent.
A wooden structure stood ahead, decorated with the symbols of the Empire of Yevell. A man in armor stood in front of it, leaning on a spear.
"Papers. Identification."
Aren calmly handed his over.
The guard frowned when he saw the rank.
"C… Rank C?"
He looked Aren up and down, then smirked to himself.
"And you?" he asked Jariz.
Jariz lowered his head.
"I was robbed. My papers too."
The guard sighed.
"That's unfortunate. I can't let you through."
"Please…"
"Your friend can pass. You turn back—or I arrest you in the name of the Red Knights."
Aren watched the scene without a word.
The guard stepped closer.
"Unless… you give me five gold coins. Then I'll look the other way."
Jariz turned pale.
"That's all I have left…"
"Then give them to me. Or I take them anyway and arrest you."
A faint smile appeared on Aren's lips.
"Jariz, let's go. Don't listen to this idiot."
"What?"
The guard's face hardened.
"Are you mocking me?"
Aren replied calmly.
"You're not Red Knights."
"And we're still in Aurelion. Yevell's border isn't here."
The guard shouted:
"Damn it—big brother!"
A massive man stepped out from the tent behind, a battle axe resting on his shoulder.
"So you figured it out?" he said confidently.
Aren glanced at Jariz.
"If I were alone, you'd have attacked me directly, wouldn't you?"
The bandit grinned.
"Hand over everything," said the younger one.
Jariz trembled and held out his purse.
"Take it. Just let us go!"
Aren sighed.
"Jariz. Think. They won't let us leave."
The older brother laughed.
"Good answer. We were going to kill you anyway."
Jariz stammered.
"W-What? Why?"
Aren slightly drew his sword.
"Then come and bite the dust, you idiots."
The wind blew softly.
The fire crackled.
The fight was about to begin.