When Satorn Virel finished speaking, silence settled over the room.
Louis leaned back slightly, his expression thoughtful rather than shocked. He stared at the tabletop for a moment, then let out a quiet breath.
"So…" he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "I just need to get myself mauled and hope for insight."
The tone was light—almost joking—but not careless. There was enough weight behind the words to make it clear that he wasn't entirely dismissing the idea.
Natasha glanced at him.
"Enlightenment doesn't work like that," she said calmly. "It differs from druid to druid. What opened his path may not open yours."
She folded her arms loosely.
"Even if you dragged a wolf out of the forest and fought it barehanded, there's no guarantee your Beast Path would respond."
Louis nodded once, acknowledging the point.
Natasha then turned back to Satorn.
"Two decades ago," she continued, "after the Beast War ended—some years after the conflict with the Beast Federation—you lost your ability to transform."
The air shifted.
Satorn's expression darkened, lines on his face deepening as he absorbed the statement.
"All of it," Natasha added. "Your Beast Path closed. Completely."
Satorn exhaled slowly.
"I don't know why," he admitted. "No injury. No corruption. One day, it simply… stopped answering."
Louis turned his head toward Natasha, searching her face, as if to confirm whether what she said was truly accurate.
She met his gaze.
"That's also why," she said, "despite that loss, he remains remembered."
Her eyes returned to Satorn.
"During the war, after unlocking the Beast Path, he was a hero on the battlefield. He survived engagements no one expected him to walk away from."
She spoke evenly.
"Mage-unit bombardments. Sustained spellfire. Encounters that would have killed most front-line druids outright."
Louis frowned slightly.
Mage bombardments?
Louis's gaze lingered on Satorn Virel.
He found himself wondering how the old man had endured all of that. Mage bombardments. Frontline combat. Battles that should have torn a druid apart long before the fighting ended.
Satorn seemed to read the question in his eyes.
"It wasn't only endurance," the old man said quietly. "Artifacts played a large role. Relics issued during the war—defensive layers, mana dampeners, emergency restoratives."
Louis nodded slowly. That made sense. Somewhat.
"But that alone wouldn't have been enough," Natasha added.
Both men turned to her.
"In his transformed state," she continued, "his regeneration was constant. Wounds that would cripple others simply… closed."
She spoke as if stating a known fact.
"That regeneration is what allowed him to stay in the fight."
She paused, then added, "In that form, he could defeat a knight of equal rank and level."
Louis's eyes widened slightly.
"A knight?" he repeated.
Natasha nodded. "Fully armored. Trained. Equal footing."
Louis leaned back, mind racing.
Back in his world, druids were considered mid-tier at best. Strong, versatile—but always limited. Transformation builds were flashy, but impractical. You couldn't equip proper armor. Weapons didn't scale. Eventually, they fell behind.
As the thought crossed his mind, Natasha looked at him.
It was subtle—but unmistakable.
"You're comparing it to something else," she said.
She didn't wait for confirmation.
"In this world," she continued, "equipment isn't the only measure of power. In a transformed state, fur is reinforced by mana. Each strand becomes layered protection."
She raised a hand slightly.
"Claws and teeth aren't natural weapons anymore. When trained and refined, they reach—and often surpass—the strength of regular forged metal."
Louis went still.
It clicked.
The rules were different.
This wasn't a game. There were no rigid limitations. No arbitrary balances imposed for fairness.
This was another world.
And he couldn't keep judging it through the logic of the one he came from.
The realization settled quietly—but firmly—in his chest.
All of it only served to heighten Louis's excitement.
The possibilities. The implications. The realization that the Beast Path was far more than he had first assumed.
He turned back to Satorn Virel.
"So," Louis said, exhaling softly, "what was your request?"
For a moment, the old man seemed caught off guard—as if he had nearly forgotten that part himself.
Then he nodded, as though remembering something long set aside.
Slowly, Satorn reached into his coat. His fingers emerged holding a small, worn necklace. The chain was slightly twisted, the metal dulled with age. At its center hung a gem—unremarkable at first glance, cloudy rather than brilliant.
He placed it gently on the table between them.
"All I ask," Satorn said, "is that you carry this with you on your travels."
Louis blinked. "That's it?"
Satorn inclined his head.
"It's clear to me that you won't remain within the Empire forever," he continued. "Where you go, I cannot say. But I believe your path will take you far."
He looked at the necklace.
"If, during your journey, you encounter someone… and this reacts to them—if it resonates, adheres, or binds itself—then I ask that you give it to that person."
Natasha leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing as she studied the gem.
Recognition flickered across her face.
"This is a Resonant sigil relic," she said after a moment. "Inscribed with affinity runes. It's dormant unless it comes into proximity with a compatible signature."
She glanced at Louis.
"In simple terms—it's meant to find someone."
Louis's gaze returned to the old man.
"Why?" he asked. "What is this necklace? And who am I supposed to give it to?"
Satorn hesitated.
His fingers tightened faintly against the table.
"Is it truly necessary to explain?" he asked quietly.
Louis didn't back down.
"Yes," he said. "I need to know. I'm not walking into this blind. And I'm not carrying an artifact tied to someone's past without understanding what it could cost me."
For a long moment, Satorn said nothing.
Then he sighed.
"During the war," he said, "I met a beastkin woman."
The words were simple. Heavy.
"She fought alongside me. Not as an ally of convenience—but as someone who chose to stand there."
He didn't elaborate much. He didn't need to.
"I loved her," he said. "And when the war ended… we were separated."
Satorn's eyes lingered on the necklace.
"This was meant for her. Or for someone connected to her. I don't know if she still lives. I don't know where she is."
Louis frowned.
"But what makes you think I'll ever go near the Beast Federation?" he asked. "Isn't that where the Beastkin rule? Why assume my path leads there?"
Satorn chuckled softly.
"It's written all over you," he said.
Louis blinked. "What is?"
"That you aren't someone meant to stay in one place."
Louis opened his mouth, then paused.
Is it really that obvious?
Satorn shook his head slightly.
"Not from looking at you," he said. "From listening to you."
He stood, straightening with effort, then bowed deeply.
"I ask you this—not as a noble," he said, "but as a man who failed to finish something important."
Louis stared at the necklace.
Then he sighed.
"…Alright," he said at last.
He reached forward and took it.
"I'll carry it."
And just like that, the request was accepted.