The next morning, Dornin woke before the sun.
Sleep had barely touched him. A restless unease clung to his chest as he rose, pulled on his coat, and left his home behind. His steps were quick, almost desperate, as he headed straight for the Adventurers' Guild. If anyone knew something—anything—it would be them.
The guild hall was already alive with murmurs and clanking armor. Dornin approached the counter, gripping the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles whitened.
"Have you seen a boy?" he asked the man behind the counter. "About fourteen years old. Black hair. Carries a sword."
The clerk glanced up. "Name?"
"Kaele Ashford."
Recognition flashed across the man's face. "Ah. That one. He took an escort quest—guarding a wagon. One-day job. They should be returning today."
Dornin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding."Thank you."
He turned and left at once, convincing himself that everything was fine.
On the other side of the road, far from Dornin's sight, Kaele and Tarin woke to the chill of early morning. They gathered their gear in silence, the memory of the forest still heavy in the air.
"Let's hope we don't run into monsters on the way back," Tarin said, forcing a light tone.
"Yeah," Kaele replied, tightening the straps on his armor.
"That forest…" Tarin shuddered. "It creeps me out. And those drunk people we met earlier—I really hope we don't see them again."
Kaele nodded once. "Let's go."
They climbed onto an old wagon heading toward Vasto. The wood creaked beneath their weight. Besides them, only one other passenger sat there—the wagoner himself, a thin man with tired eyes.
"What are you kids doing this far from home?" the wagoner asked as the horses began to move.
"We're adventurers," Kaele answered. "We took a quest to escort goods here."
The man chuckled. "Ranks?"
"Iron," Kaele said.
The wagoner looked them over. "Figures. Newbies."
"This was our second quest," Tarin said. "We completed both successfully."
The wagoner raised a brow. "That's rare. Most get stuck at Iron. Some die on their first run."
"We'll remember that," Kaele replied quietly.
The road narrowed. Trees pressed closer. Shadows thickened.
"Look," Tarin whispered. "The forest is getting dense."
"Stay alert," Kaele said. "Anything can—"
A rustling sound cut him off.
"You heard that too?" Kaele asked.
"Yes," Tarin replied, gripping his shield. "We're surrounded."
The world exploded.
A rain of arrows tore through the air—more than ten at once. One struck the horse clean through the neck. The animal collapsed instantly, screaming as it died.
The wagoner panicked. He leapt from the wagon and ran into the forest.
"Wait—!" Kaele shouted.
A dull thud followed.
An arrow pierced the wagoner's head. He fell lifeless to the ground.
"He's—he's dead!" Tarin screamed.
Another arrow struck Tarin's right arm. Blood burst free.
"AHHH—MY ARM!"
"Tarin, lie down!" Kaele shouted. "Bear the pain!"
Kaele tore cloth from the wagon, pressing it hard against the wound. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the arrow free. As it slid out, his eyes caught something strange—a symbol carved into the tail of the arrow.
An eye.
"You have to endure," Kaele said, his voice shaking. "We'll survive this forest. I promise."
Tarin clenched his jaw, forcing the screams down. "Yeah… I can't die yet. We still have to travel the world."
A promise from their school days.
The arrows stopped.
Five goblins stepped out from the bushes, grinning with jagged teeth.
Kaele stood.
He hurled his dagger. It buried itself in a goblin's skull, killing it instantly.
"Nice throw," Tarin said weakly. "Four left. Two each."
"Let's finish this and go home."
Kaele charged. His blade severed a goblin's arm, then came down in a brutal arc, splitting its head in two.
"Three left," Kaele called.
Tarin struggled to lift his shield. He threw it aside, gripped his sword with both hands, and struck with everything he had. The goblin's head fell. Tarin collapsed to his knees, gasping.
"Two… left…" he muttered.
Kaele engaged another goblin, but its blade sliced his leg. Pain tore through him. He staggered.
Tarin forced himself up.
Together, they killed the last goblin.
Silence.
They looked at each other—bloodied, shaking—then smiled.
"We did it!" they shouted, laughing like madmen.
An arrow pierced Tarin's leg.
"AHHH!"
Kaele spun, searching for the attacker. Nothing.
Another arrow lay on the ground. The same eye symbol.
"What does this mean…?" Kaele whispered.
A sudden shadow rose behind Tarin.
A hobgoblin.
Massive. Armored. A huge axe lifted high.
"RUN, TARIN!" Kaele screamed.
Tarin turned. Fear filled his eyes. The axe fell.
He knew he couldn't block it.
Memories flashed—school days, laughter, dreams.
Tears streamed down his face as he looked at Kaele one last time.
"Live," he said. "Run away… and live."
Thud.
Kaele screamed.
Tarin's head rolled to the ground.
Something inside Kaele shattered.
"I was crying for killing monsters," he sobbed. "They killed the wagoner… my friend… and I couldn't protect them!"
Hatred burned.
"I'll become strong," he screamed. "I'll kill every monster in this world!"
He rose—then froze.
Another hobgoblin stood behind him.
Hope died.
His sword slipped from his hands.
"I guess… this is the end of our adventure, Tarin," he whispered.
Darkness took him.
Kaele woke screaming, his voice tore through the inn like a blade.
"TARIN—!"
His body lurched upright before his mind caught up. His hands clawed at the sheets, his chest burning as if the axe had struck him instead. Sweat soaked his back. His breath came in broken gasps, sharp and painful, as though his lungs had forgotten how to work.
For a moment, the world didn't make sense.
A ceiling. Wooden beams. The faint smell of ale and smoke.
Not the forest.
Not blood-soaked earth.
Not Tarin's lifeless eyes.
"…A dream," Kaele whispered hoarsely.
But his hands were shaking.
He swung his legs off the bed too quickly, nearly collapsing as pain stabbed through his injured leg. The pain grounded him—too real, too sharp. His heart sank.
His eyes darted to the other bed.
Empty.
A cold dread crept into his chest, slow and suffocating.
"No…" he muttered. "He just went out. That's all."
Kaele forced himself to stand and staggered out of the room.
The tavern below was alive with morning noise—clattering plates, low laughter, the crackle of firewood. Adventurers gathered in groups, boasting and arguing.
At the center sat the Falcon Party.
They didn't laugh loudly. They didn't boast.
They carried themselves like veterans—alert even while seated.
Roman Baldur sat upright, broad-shouldered, his scarred hands resting calmly on the table. His presence alone seemed to steady the air around him.
To his right sat Lara Stewart. Sharp eyes. Straight posture. Her armor was clean, her blade polished—but there was nothing decorative about her. Every part of her looked chosen for battle, not beauty.
John Smith leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, relaxed—but his eyes constantly scanned the room. A predator at rest.
Elina Roswell sat quietly, sipping tea, her expression soft—but Kaele noticed how her fingers hovered close to her staff at all times.
Mark Nito sat closest to the edge, younger than the others, watching Kaele carefully. Not curious—concerned.
One of them noticed Kaele first.
"He's awake," Mark said quietly.
Roman's gaze lifted.
"You shouldn't be standing," Roman said. "Sit."
"I'm fine," Kaele replied, his voice rough. "Have you seen my friend?"
Silence fell.
"The one with the shield," Kaele added quickly. "Tank class. Tarin."
Roman didn't answer immediately.
Lara stood.
"Don't you remember anything after the escort mission?" she asked.
Kaele frowned. "We stayed here for the night. That's all."
John exhaled slowly. "Kid…"
"We found you three days ago," Lara said evenly. "In the forest between Vasto and Lester."
Kaele's breath caught.
"There were goblin corpses everywhere," she continued. "Some were cut clean. Others… brutally."
Roman spoke next. "There was human blood too. More than one person's."
Kaele's legs gave out.
He fell to his knees.
"So it wasn't a dream…" he whispered. "Tarin…"
His hands clenched into the floor.
"Did you find him?" he asked, voice breaking. "Please… tell me you found him."
Roman shook his head once.
"No."
Something hollow opened inside Kaele.
Not grief.
Emptiness.
"I left him," Kaele muttered. "I promised I wouldn't…"
Elina knelt beside him. Her voice was gentle. "You survived. That matters."
"No," Kaele replied. "It doesn't."
Pain shot through his leg as he tried to stand again.
"You're still injured," Roman said. "One of our healers stabilized you, but your body hasn't recovered."
Lara stepped forward and placed a sword on the table.
A long, two-handed blade.
"This was in your hands when we found you," she said.
Kaele stared at it.
"That's not mine."
"You used it," Roman replied. "Hard."
Kaele took the sword upstairs that night.
As he cleaned the dried blood away, his hands moved mechanically—over and over—until the metal shone.
Then he saw it.
The eye mark.
The same symbol.
His chest tightened.
"They were watching," he whispered. "Even then…"
For the first time, fear mixed with his hatred.
Later, alone in his room, Kaele sat with pen and paper. His hands trembled as he wrote—not from weakness, but from restraint.
He didn't write as a boy.
He wrote as someone who had seen death.
Dear Father and Mother,
I am alive.
I wish I could say more, but words feel small right now.
I am writing from Lester City. Please don't worry or try to come find me.There are things happening in this world that I didn't understand before.
I've seen people die.
I couldn't protect someone precious to me.
Father, you taught me strength with your hands.Mother, you taught me strength with your heart.
Right now, I have neither.
That is why I must leave home—not to run, but to change.
This journey may take years. It may change me.But I promise I will return—not broken, not afraid.
Please forgive me for the worry this letter brings.
Your son,Kaele Ashford
The next morning, Kaele stood before Roman Baldur again.
"I want to join your party," he said.
Roman studied him carefully. Not his rank—his eyes.
"You're not chasing glory," Roman said. "You're running from something."
"Yes."
Roman nodded. "Then you'll fit in."
"Then welcome."
Names followed.
Lara Stewart — Platinum.John Smith — Gold.Elina Roswell — Gold.Mark Nito — Silver.
And Kaele Ashford—Iron.
Lara crossed her arms. "We don't protect recruits."
"I don't need protection," Kaele replied quietly. "I need experience."
John smirked. "Kid's honest."
Mark spoke last. "Iron rank or not… he stood alone in that forest."
Roman extended his hand.
"Welcome to the Falcon Party, Kaele Ashford."
That night, Kaele ate his first meal with them.
He barely tasted the food.
But for the first time since the forest, he didn't feel completely alone.