The town at night was alive, more so than it had been during the day.
Arah sat quietly, eyes flicking from one lit building to the next as the caravan rumbled along the narrow streets. Lanterns dangled between rooftops like scattered stars. Laughter spilled from shadowed alleys. The air was heavy with the scent of grilled meat and fried dough, clinging to his nose with every breath.
He hadn't expected it to be like this.
"Is it always this... busy?" he asked.
Kren glanced at him. "Evenings are when most people get off work. They eat, drink, walk around. It's usually like this... even more so when tomorrow's a rest day."
He spoke casually, but Arah caught the shift in his tone near the end. A quiet softness. Almost fond. It was pretty obvious that Kren liked the town.
They pulled to a stop near a crowded food stall. Kren said nothing, just flicked a few bronze rings to the vendor and caught a pouch of steaming skewers tossed his way. He handed four to Arah without looking.
"Here. Try one."
Arah hesitated, then took one. It was hot, greasy, dripping, and the smell hit hard. He bit down.
His eyes widened.
It was outrageously good. The kind of good that made your eyes roll back a little, whether you wanted them to or not. Charred just right. Juicy in the middle. Coated in a spice blend that hit sweet, then savory, then spicy, like it couldn't make up its mind.
'If I'm not careful, I'm going to end up addicted to this stuff,' he thought grimly, taking another bite.
Beside him, Kren took a bite too. He chewed slowly, then gave a nod of approval.
"Not as good as my cooking, but close."
Arah blinked, swallowed, and fought the urge to scoff.
'Sure, and I'm a long-lost prince of an empire, and the son of heaven,' he thought dryly, biting down again. He had tasted Kren's food once, and that was all it took to convince him that Kren was not a great cook. This guy probably burns water instead of boiling it.
Kren didn't notice the shift in his expression. Or maybe he did and didn't care.
He just ate.
They kept moving after that.
The deeper they went, the quieter the streets became. Stalls gave way to shuttered homes. The crowd thinned. The cobblestone path turned to packed dirt, lit only by the occasional flickering lantern.
Eventually, the caravan rolled up a small hill.
A house sat at the top, just before the city gave way to sloped fields and trees.
It wasn't big. But it was solid.
Stone foundation. Reinforced wooden beams. A roof tiled tight enough to shrug off a storm. A garden ran along one side, rows of vegetables, neat and cared for.
Kren clicked his tongue, bringing the caravan to a stop. Then he jumped down.
Kiki let out a low snort as he patted her flank.
"Good girl."
A second later, the giant tiger shimmered, then vanished.
Kren walked the rest of the way, dragging the caravan behind him, his muscles weren't for show, he had quite the strength. He left it beside the garden and turned back to Arah with a faint grin.
"Welcome to my house, kid."
He stepped up to the wooden door and pushed it open.
Arah followed.
Inside, the house was warm. Not from a fire, there wasn't one, but from the wood itself, the kind that held heat from the sun and smelled faintly of old pine. The floorboards creaked a little. To the left, a small dining table with four chairs, one of them draped with a coat. Beyond that, a sitting area—a worn couch, two armchairs that didn't match, and a squat bookshelf jammed with books. Some upright, some stacked sideways. A couple had bookmarks sticking out, left halfway through.
There were no decorations on the walls. No paintings or family portraits. Just plain wood and shelves.
Arah stood in the doorway, eyes scanning every corner.
"...You live alone?" he asked.
Kren snorted.
"No. Not really," he said, and started taking off his armor and putting it in a closet.
"I've got a wife. And a son."
There was a pause.
"They're in the Tower. Working. They should be back in a month or two."
Arah blinked. He looked at Kren again.
"You don't... seem like the type to—"
Kren waved a hand. "Settle down? I get that a lot. After all, how can a man as charming, free, and handsome as I settle down?"
'That's... not what I meant,' he thought.
Then Kren nodded toward a door near the bookshelf.
"That's for you. Guest room. Haven't cleaned it in a while. But it's got a bed. Should be fine for tonight. And the bathroom should be the shed you see outside. "
Arah looked at the door, then back at him.
"...Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Kren yawned. He just turned and walked past the table, deeper into the house.
Arah stepped toward the room and pushed the door open.
It creaked.
Dust hung in the air. Not enough to choke on, just enough to notice.
The bed was against the far wall, and it was strangely clean compared to the other objects in the room. A small window above it. A trunk in one corner. A cracked mirror leaning against the other. That was it.
Not much.
He let out a slow breath and sat down on the edge of the bed. It creaked under his weight, but held. He lay on the bed.
Silence settled in again.
His eyes drifted to the window. The moon hung low behind a thin veil of clouds. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once, then went quiet. A cricket chirped from the garden.
He sat there for a while, unmoving, letting the weight of the days before catch up to him.
So much had changed in such a short time. The ruined temple. The Tower. The disc. The monkey. Kren. The sun cult.
This world still didn't make sense to him.
And that… made it dangerous.
He closed his eyes.
He sat up, shifted back, and crossed his legs on the bed, settling into a lotus position. It wasn't the most comfortable posture on this old mattress, but it would do.
Then he reached inward. He was going to try and see if he could sense soul energy.
At first, nothing.
But then, he felt it.
Soul energy.
Thin. Almost too faint to notice. But it was there, suspended in the air like drifting threads of smoke.
He inhaled slowly and focused on drawing it toward him.
It resisted. It felt like trying to scoop water with open fingers. But with patience, a few wisps stirred. They moved, hesitantly, toward his heart.
He guided them inward, into the heartspace. From there, he began to circulate them in a circle before leading them to his meridians.
A simple cultivation path from his old world, basic, stable, and reliable. Something designed to circulate without external tools. He didn't know if it would work here.
But it did.
Slowly.
Delicately.
Soul energy moved through his body, brushing against meridians that had long gone unused. They ached a little, like limbs waking after sleep. He wasn't sure if people of this world used meridians to cultivate the body and store energy, since the heart seemed to be where the disc energy gathered.
The cycle completed once. Then twice.
Then a third time.
He felt no immediate rush of power. No golden glow. No awakening.
But it was progress. It meant that even here, in this strange, uncertain place, he wasn't starting from zero. Still, he didn't dare pull too much. And he didn't try to store the soul energy in his meridians yet, since he didn't have any experience with soul energy. He wouldn't do it until he knew enough.
The other reason was that he didn't want to alert Kren.
Kren was still in the house. And while the man seemed casual and relaxed most of the time, Arah wasn't naive enough to take that at face value.
So he kept the flow tight. Controlled. Small enough not to be noticed, if someone was paying attention.
Eventually, after the meridians started to let the energy flow freely, he let the energy settle back into his heart.
His eyes opened.
'Talk about a heavenly body... If I had this kind of body in my last life, maybe I wouldn't have died,' he thought.
He would have to inspect the limits of this body some other time, but for now, getting some rest was a must.
He stretched out on the bed and let himself sink into the mattress. The ache in his limbs, the kind you don't notice until the quiet hits, crept up on him, slow and dull. It had been days since he'd truly rested. Real rest. Not the kind with one eye open and a hand on a weapon.
Still.
But not heavy.
For the first time since he woke in that ruined temple, he felt… safe.
Not because the world had become any less dangerous, but because, for once, there were warm walls around him and a roof.
He let out a breath.
And let go.
Sleep came for him slowly. His mind drifted. '...ahh... to dream again... How long has it been since I had experienced something so human,' he thought.
He turned on his side and pulled the rough blanket over his shoulder.
Outside, the wind picked up, rustling through the leaves in the garden.
Arah's eyes grew heavy.
His breath slowed.
And finally, he drifted off into a sleep long overdue.