"This tastes like overcooked eggs," Sunflower muttered, spitting out the loaf of bread.
"I can't do much about the flavor. I can only control the shape and size," Lance replied honestly.
"Forget it. I wasn't hungry anyway," she said, lying back and tossing the dagger up and down, clearly unsure of what to do next.
"Why?" Lance suddenly asked.
Sunflower looked up at him.
"Why are you still waiting? Didn't I tell you the curse is over? You wouldn't be haunted if you ended my life now."
"I wouldn't," she answered quietly.
"Your people would be avenged," Lance added.
"They would," she agreed.
"Then why not end me? I destroyed everything—your home, your family, your life—"
Sunflower cut him off. "End you, and then what? You think killing yourself will atone for your sins? That by killing you, my parents will come back? That I'd get to talk to the chief one last time? That I could go back to training young warriors in peace?"
Her voice trembled as tears rolled down her cheeks. She paused to breathe, steadying herself.
"I wouldn't. They're gone. You took them from me. All I can do now is move forward. Killing you changes nothing about my present. The weak can't carry the burden of the dead."
She stared at Lance with both rage and sorrow.
"I'm sorry for bringing it up," Lance said softly.
"It needed to be said," Sunflower replied, wiping away her tears.
A heavy silence fell between them, growing more awkward with each passing hour. They sat at opposite ends, one searching for purpose, the other recovering his strength.
Lance's stomach growled. Since the bread was inedible, they hadn't eaten anything.
Noticing, Sunflower stood up. "Stay here," she said, disappearing into the forest.
Half an hour later, she returned, holding two green rabbits. Lance still sat where she left him.
She tossed the rabbits toward him. "Hold these. I'll get some firewood."
"Wait," Lance said.
He closed his eyes, entered the void, and began imagining a fire. When he opened them, flames roared over neatly stacked wood.
Despite seeing it before, Sunflower was still startled.
Lance coughed violently. His body trembled as if his bones were about to break. After a few seconds, he settled.
Sunflower noticed but said nothing. She took one rabbit and knelt by the fire to start skinning it.
"Come help," she said.
Lance stood, grabbed his rabbit, and joined her. As they prepared the meat and waited for it to cook, Sunflower looked at him intently.
"If you really feel sorry for my village and my people," she said, locking eyes with him, "then help me. Help me find my biological parents—if they exist."
Lance paused to absorb her request. He gave a simple nod.
The meat finished cooking, and they sat in silence, eating by the fire.
"Do you really not remember who you are?" Sunflower asked.
Lance shook his head.
"Nothing about your hometown? Your parents?"
Again, he shook his head.
"Do you want to know? Do you want to understand where you are—what this world is?"
Lance finally nodded.
Sunflower took a deep breath. "Right now, you're in the western region of Vraxen."
"Vraxen?" Lance asked.
"Yes. That's what this mainland is called—Vraxen. Apart from this, there are two other mainlands, each separated by a terrifying and mysterious ocean we call 'The Dark Voyage.'"
She continued, "That name came from sailors who arrived here from the western mainland, Pixtalia. They described the journey as nearly impossible. When asked why they made it, they just laughed and said, 'Why else? Because it was fun.'"
Lance chuckled. The way she spoke, it felt like a bedtime story.
"But despite their laughter, the ship they arrived on was nearly destroyed. Holes in the hull, walls shattered as if a giant had struck it. Our people helped them rebuild. In return, they shared knowledge that helped our naval technology. Even so, our ships still can't survive The Dark Voyage."
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.
"Trade is almost nonexistent. Occasionally, once every year or two, a merchant from Pixtalia will arrive, ship damaged but hopeful. They claim the profit from trade outweighs the risk."
"What about the other mainland?" Lance asked. "You said there are two others."
"Yes. Pixtalia lies to our west. To the east, there's another enormous landmass. But no one from there has ever made it to Vraxen. All three continents are separated by the same treacherous ocean."
"What's that eastern land called?"
"The Far Continent," she replied. "Named by our ancestors. It's almost twice the distance of Pixtalia. Sailors who've attempted the journey never return. In one case, days after a voyage began, a fisherman near shore pulled up a piece of the wrecked ship."
Lance's eyes widened at how vast and dangerous this world truly was.
"Who rules Vraxen?" he asked.
"For the past thousand years, Vraxen has been under the Gilbert Household. They are the royal family. The current ruler is Robert Slade the Third, a man in his thirties who took the throne after his father was poisoned."
She leaned in slightly. "But if I talked about the Gilberts now, we'd be here for weeks. Just know this: the lineage started strong but has grown corrupt. Best to stay clear of politics."
Lance nodded.
"Now," she said, shifting focus, "we need to decide our next destination. Vraxen is filled with small villages like ours. But it also has five major cities—one in each cardinal direction and one in The center Called the "Capital" ."
She paused before finishing.
"We're heading west—to the city of Dewbour. It's where Pixtalia's people first made landfall."
Dewbour?" Lance asked, intrigued.
But Sunflower didn't seem eager to continue the conversation. She stood up and brushed off her pants.
"It's getting late. We should rest now so we can wake up early and begin our journey to Dewbour."
With that, she turned away and started to cut green grass to make a comfortable base to rest for the night , however she sensed something immediately upon looking back her eyes were met with, Two single wooden beds appeared side by side, each fitted with a white mattress, a pillow, and a blanket.
She turned to look at Lance—only to find him collapsed on the ground, his hands digging into the dirt as he coughed violently. He vomited up the rabbit meat he had just eaten, then began to cough up blood. The pain was unbearable; he passed out moments later.
"He's adapting too quickly to manifesting objects into reality. What a bizarre power," Sunflower mumbled to herself.
She walked over, lifted the unconscious Lance gently, and tucked him into one of the beds. Then she climbed into the other. For the first time in months, Sunflower slept peacefully.
Pearl Town, Crownshade
A sharply dressed man, just under six feet tall, was escorted by two guards toward the Chief's office. He wore a formal suit with a neatly tied brown tie around his neck. His appearance was striking—sharp nose, jet-black hair, and deep red eyes that glimmered with quiet authority.
As they reached the office door, he knocked. A voice permitted him to enter.
Inside sat Arthur, the Chief of Crownshade, looking somber and serious.
"What is it this time, Arthur?" the man asked as he stepped inside. "I believe I already told you—the state cannot reduce your taxes any further. Even the current cut was granted only because of me."
Arthur's gray eyes locked with the man's red ones.
"This isn't about that, Dawson," Arthur said, raising his hand and signaling to a man standing beside him.
Commander Rock stepped forward. "Greetings, Sir Dawson. I was assigned a commission to investigate a certain village—"
He went on, explaining everything in detail. Nothing was left out.
With every word, Dawson's confident expression began to fade. His composure unraveled, bit by bit, until concern etched itself into his face.
"What happened to the village?" Dawson finally asked.
Rock bowed his head, shame heavy in his voice. "After we witnessed the meteor fall… none of us had the courage to re-enter the forest."
Dawson placed a reassuring hand on Rock's shoulder.
"It's alright. We'll handle things from here. You did a fantastic job. Your men should be proud—they all made it out alive."
Seeing that Rock was still frustrated, Dawson added, "I've known many comrades who rushed into danger without thinking. And for what? Honor? Pride? Most of them are remembered only as fools. Don't be like them."
Rock slowly calmed down. Dawson asked a few more questions about the incident, then nodded respectfully to Arthur before taking his leave.
Rock turned to return to his post, but Arthur called after him.
"What will you do now, after this incident?" Arthur asked, his tone warm and calm.
Rock hesitated. Silence hung in the room.
"Why are you angry at yourself?" Arthur continued. "The mission was a success. The client was satisfied. Every single soldier returned alive."
Rock looked down, face darkened with shame. "How would you feel, Chief, if you were in command and someone in your squad asked you for direction—only to see fear written all over your face?"
He clenched his fists. "My hands were shaking. My mind was clouded. I was scared… terrified. And I'm ashamed to admit it, but it's the truth."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Then take that truth with you, and use it. You'll train harder—physically and mentally."
He continued, "I've taught you everything I could. But to grow beyond this… you'll need to join the State."
"The State?" Rock asked, clearly stunned. "But I can't work here and join the State. Once you're in, you're exclusive to them."
"Of course," Arthur said. "Once you're part of the State, you can't work anywhere else."
"But the entrance tests… they're not easy. And enrolling costs a fortune," Rock replied.
"Don't worry. I'll fund you," Arthur said.
"Why?" Rock asked, genuinely confused.
Arthur smiled gently. "It's been six years since you joined this organization. Do you remember the principle Crownshade was founded on?" He looked Rock in the eye. "You are my family."
Tears welled up in Rock's eyes, though he tried to hide them. He bowed deeply. "Thank you, sir.