Sylvia rose carefully.
Her visible injuries had disappeared. The cut on her cheek was nothing more than a pink line already fading. Her ankle, twisted only moments earlier, could bear her weight again. And yet, her face remained pale, and her fingers still trembled around the edge of her cloak.
Her body had been treated.
Fear took longer.
She bowed deeply before the man in the black robe.
"Thank you, Master Kys. Truly. I… I don't know how to thank you."
Kys barely lowered his eyes toward her.
"Your grandfather pays his insurance on time. Thank him for not being negligent."
His voice was calm.
Not cruel.
Worse.
Administrative.
Then he was already turning away, as if Sylvia, her blood, her terror, and her survival were nothing more than a line properly processed in an invisible ledger.
Davin followed him with his eyes.
The moment Kys passed near him, something changed.
Not a gesture.
Not a threat.
Just pressure.
The air around the man seemed to grow heavier, denser, almost solid. A subtle vibration brushed Davin's skin and raised the hairs on his forearms. His breath caught for half a second, for no visible reason.
His body had understood before his mind.
This man was not merely important.
He was dangerous.
My unknown energy is reacting to his.
The sensation had nothing in common with his own. In Davin, that energy was only a thin, diffuse current, almost wild, lost in his blood. In Kys, it felt like a calm, contained, profound mass. Black water behind a dam.
Different. Denser. More crushing.
Davin felt his jaw tighten.
As if he and I aren't even from the same world.
He took a few steps in his direction.
"Sir, how did you learn that?"
The question rang a little too loudly through the hall.
Several gazes turned toward him.
Sylvia froze.
The receptionist, meanwhile, had the expression of someone who had just seen a beggar ask a noble to explain how to govern a kingdom.
Kys stopped at the foot of the stairs.
One second.
Two.
Then he turned his head slightly.
Not enough to truly look at Davin.
Just enough to let him know he had been heard.
"By being born on the right side of the gate."
Then he climbed the stairs without adding another word.
The silence that followed was brief, but long enough for Davin to understand.
No interest.
No anger.
No curiosity.
In Kys's eyes, he was not even a nuisance.
Only background noise.
Very good. So even answers are hierarchical.
Davin stored the humiliation in a corner of his mind.
Useful.
Like everything else.
He turned and headed toward the counter.
The receptionist watched him approach with a tense expression. Less contempt than before. Not respect either. Something between disgust, caution, and professional irritation.
Davin pulled the dirty cloth from his pocket and unfolded it on the massive wooden counter.
Two lavender ears fell onto the wood.
Wet.
Disgusting.
One slid slightly across the ledger.
The receptionist closed her eyes for half a second, as if silently praying to be reincarnated into a profession without severed organs.
"Couldn't you have put them in something less infected?"
"I'm open to donations of clean bags."
She stared at him.
Davin held her gaze.
With a sigh, she grabbed the ears with iron tongs, inspected them quickly, then tossed them into a small bin behind her.
"Two right ears. Two goblins."
She reached under the counter and placed two silver coins in front of him.
The metal chimed softly against the wood.
Davin lowered his eyes.
Two small coins.
Nothing, for someone stable.
Everything, for him.
He picked them up and felt the cold metal against his palm.
Tonight, he would not sleep outside.
Tonight, he would not eat scraps stolen in a dead end.
Two ears, two coins, one dignity temporarily rented. Remarkable progress.
"Thank you again for saving me," a soft voice said behind him.
Davin turned.
Sylvia had approached. Now that she was no longer screaming, bleeding, or being dragged away by goblins, he could truly observe her.
She had short red hair, disheveled by the battle. A few strands still stuck to her forehead with sweat and traces of dried blood the treatment had not entirely cleaned away. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. Her green eyes were still damp, but sharper than before.
Her tawny-brown leather travel cloak bore mud stains and several tears. Her faded dark-green tunic had been reinforced at the elbows and shoulders. Thin gloves covered her hands, practical rather than elegant. At her belt hung a short blade — the one he had just returned — barely larger than a kitchen knife.
A beginner adventurer.
Not a decorative noble.
Not a lost peasant.
A girl trained just enough to believe she was ready.
Sixteen, maybe. Terrified, grateful, but not completely stupid. Malleable, yes. Fragile, not necessarily.
Davin gave her a polite smile.
"It's only natural."
A lie.
"You and your companions are warriors?"
He shifted slightly away from the counter to avoid the nearest curious ears. The great hall had resumed its noise, but several adventurers were still glancing in their direction.
Sylvia followed his movement.
"Yes… well, not exactly. We're training to become Adepts. For now, we're mostly considered semi-adepts."
"Semi-adepts?"
Davin tilted his head slightly.
"That isn't the same as being an apprentice warrior or apprentice mage?"
Sylvia looked at him in surprise.
Then her expression changed.
The smell, the rags, the ignorance, the inability to read, the state in which he had found her… In her mind, the pieces must have arranged themselves in a very simple way.
Poor.
Lost.
Probably broken.
"Not really," she explained. "We learn the basics of combat and magic, but until we reach the half-gate, we remain… ordinary. Trained warriors, yes, but not true Adepts."
The word immediately captured Davin's full attention.
"The half-gate?"
"To be recognized as an Initial Adept, you have to accomplish two things," Sylvia said, counting on her fingers. "Sense mana, then open your first mana gate halfway. Well… 'open' isn't the right word. My grandfather says it's more like filling it up to the threshold."
Davin remained still.
Two conditions. Sense mana. Fill a half-gate.
He wanted to ask ten questions at once.
He forced himself to stay calm.
"Your grandfather sounds well informed."
Sylvia's face brightened despite her fatigue.
"He's a veteran Adept. He isn't a Mage, but he knows a lot. He always says bad advice can kill faster than a bad sword strike."
A veteran Adept. So probably decades of practice, and still not a Mage.
Davin felt a mixture of fascination and irritation.
How hard is this damn system to climb?
"Impressive," he said.
He lied with almost professional smoothness.
"And how does one sense this mana?"
Sylvia blinked.
"You really don't know?"
Mistake.
Too direct.
Too ignorant.
Davin lowered his eyes. His face closed off with carefully measured sadness.
"I woke up in a ditch some time ago. Part of my memory is… confused. I have no family to ask."
Sylvia brought a hand to her mouth.
"Oh… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"
And there it is. Amnesia: the universal excuse for suspicious survivors.
He shook his head slightly.
"It's nothing. Continue."
She hesitated for another moment, then resumed more gently.
"From what my grandfather explained, mana is everywhere, but most people don't truly sense it. You have to learn to perceive it, like… like heat behind the skin, or a current in the air. Then you let it enter the body to feed the gate."
"And to become a Mage?"
Sylvia lowered her voice a little, as if the word demanded respect.
"You have to fully cross the first gate. Not just halfway. Those who succeed become Rank 1 Mages. But it's very difficult. Many Adepts never manage it."
Davin thought of Kys.
Of the air densifying around him.
Of the space others gave him without even thinking.
Rank 1. So that man is only the first real step.
The thought did not discourage him.
It fed him.
"You mentioned help for sensing mana," he said. "Can people do it alone?"
Sylvia made a slight grimace.
"Geniuses can, yes. At least, that's what people say. For everyone else, there are breathing methods, masters, crystals, or minor awakening pills. They help you sense mana without forcing the body too brutally."
Davin felt his attention tighten.
"Pills?"
He had not been able to keep the nuance out of his voice.
Sylvia noticed.
This time, she did not immediately take the object out.
She placed a hand on the small pouch at her belt, hesitated, then looked at him seriously.
"I have one."
Davin did not move.
"My grandfather gives me two a month," she continued. "It isn't a rare pill for the truly rich, but for us… it's precious. Very precious."
She swallowed.
"I'll only have one left until next month."
So she understands the value of what she's holding. Good.
"Then keep it," Davin said.
He knew exactly what he was doing when he said those words.
Sylvia almost stiffened.
The debt had just been named without being named.
She inhaled, searched inside her pouch, then pulled out a small dark sphere, smooth and barely larger than a fingernail. A faint scent of bitter herbs rose from it.
"No. You saved my life. Without you, I would be dead, or worse."
She held the pill out to him.
"Take it. But don't do anything reckless. Sit down, breathe slowly, and don't force it if you feel pain."
Davin accepted the sphere without the slightest hesitation.
"Davin."
She blinked.
"What?"
"My name. Davin."
A tired smile crossed her face.
"Sylvia. But you already knew that."
"Hard to miss your brother screaming it like a disaster alarm."
She lowered her eyes, embarrassed, but a small laugh escaped her despite herself.
The laugh died almost immediately when the guild door opened violently behind them.
Panicked voices entered with the smell of blood and forest.
The brother.
The colossus.
The wounded boy.
Alive.
Not in good shape, but alive.
Sylvia spun around.
Davin, however, took one step back.
Perfect. The armed idiot arrives. Ideal moment to disappear.
He took a few last pieces of information in a low voice — the name of an inn, the approximate price of a room, the direction of the common baths — then slipped away before the family reunion became loud, emotional, or dangerous.
Probably all three.