At the training ground, the laughter still lingered long after Will's embarrassment. The sun was sliding lower, and the evening breeze carried the smell of iron and pine.
Seren looked between the two new faces and asked, "So, who are you two?"
Will cleared his throat, still red from earlier. "Me and my sister Willa," he said. "We came here with our friend. Just stopping by for a bit before we head north."
Rogan chuckled, resting his longsword on his shoulder. "Seems your love story ends here, Lyssara."
Lyssara turned sharply toward him. "Shut it, Rogan."
Willa smirked, nudging her brother. "Do you think he's finished talking with the village chief?"
Will shrugged. "I don't know. Why not go check? Maybe he's waiting for us."
Kael, who had just arrived beside Seren, spoke up. "I'll come with you. I need to talk to the chief anyway."
Willa nodded and started walking toward the longhouse with Kael. Will hesitated, glancing back at Lyssara — still training, still graceful — before reluctantly following.
When they were out of sight, Seren folded his arms and looked at Lyssara. "You're lucky, you know. Someone's clearly smitten with you. Enjoy it — you might see him again."
Lyssara gave a sly smile. "Maybe someone's lucky to have you too, Seren."
Seren blinked. "Oh? And who might that be?"
She tilted her head toward Rogan, smirking. "Someone close by. You just need to look properly to see who."
Rogan froze, suddenly flustered. "A-ahem. We should, uh, continue our sparring."
Seren chuckled. "I'll join."
Lyssara rolled her eyes but smiled faintly as the three resumed their spar. The clang of steel rang out across the yard once more.
---
At the longhouse, the door slid open and Kael stepped inside with the twins. He stopped mid-step when he saw who was seated by the fire.
"Hunnt—" Kael's voice cracked with surprise. "You're back?!"
Hunnt turned, calm as ever. "Hello to you too, Kael. Yes, I'm back."
He nodded toward the twins. "I see you've met Will and Willa."
The twins looked between the two men, wide-eyed. Willa asked, "Wait—you know Hunnt?"
Hunnt chuckled. "Yes. Kael's an old friend."
Kael crossed the room, still grinning. "When did you return? And how long will you be staying this time?"
Hunnt leaned back slightly. "Me and the twins will be staying here until their trials end."
"Trials?" Willa echoed, tilting her head.
Will perked up beside her, smiling. "We're staying?"
Maerin raised an eyebrow from her seat, sipping tea. "Someone sounds happy about staying here," she said with a teasing smile. "Did something happen?"
Willa giggled. "Yes, Chief Maerin — my brother met a beautiful woman at the training ground!"
Will's face turned bright red. "Willa!"
Maerin glanced curiously between them. "Oh? Who might that be?"
Kael smirked. "Lyssara. Looks like love at first sight."
"O-ho," Maerin said, amused.
Hunnt hid a smile behind his cup. "Didn't expect Will to fall for anyone so soon. Good sign — more people to protect."
Willa burst out laughing while Will groaned and covered his face. "Please, stop…"
Hunnt finally looked at the twins. "As for the trials — you'll know soon enough. For now, you'll both stay here."
Willa nodded eagerly. "Where are we staying, then?"
"For now," Maerin said, "you can stay here in the longhouse. I'll find an empty home for you soon."
Kael turned his attention to Hunnt's weapon resting by his side. "A longsword, huh? What's this about?"
Hunnt shrugged. "Change of pace."
---
Later, outside the longhouse, wind carried the faint rhythm of hammers from the forge.
Kael and Hunnt walked side by side through the quiet village.
Hunnt asked, "Maerin told me about the scholar and artisan who settled here in the village."
Kael chuckled. "Ah, those two. Remember the six I recognized months ago? Two of them are here — Myr, the scholar, and Orrin, the artisan."
Hunnt nodded. "Why are they here?"
"Myr came chasing knowledge. Heard about the Vulcarion Basal and wanted to study why the wyvern remained dormant for so long. Orrin…" Kael's voice softened. "He's different. Said the Guild framed him for something he didn't do. So he ran — found his way here instead."
Hunnt frowned slightly. "Keep them safe. And don't tell anyone I'm the founder."
Kael gave him a sideways look. "You think I would?"
Hunnt's lips curved. "Seren and Maerin know."
Kael stopped walking. "Wait—how did you—?"
Hunnt raised an eyebrow. "So she does know."
Kael groaned quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You caught me."
Hunnt chuckled.
Kael sighed, defeated. "So where are you off to now?"
Hunnt started walking again. "To the training yard. I want to see this Rogan — the one with the raw power. I want to see how high his potential really goes."
Kael smiled faintly, crossing his arms. "Try not to break him on the first day."
Hunnt grinned over his shoulder. "No promises."
At the training ground, Hunnt arrived quietly, stopping a short distance away. He folded his arms, watching the three figures sparring under the fading light.
Seren moved with her usual steadiness, tanking and dodging blows in perfect rhythm. The woman — agile, precise, her footwork sharp — struck fast and clean but her hits lacked weight. That must be Lyssara, Hunnt thought. She's quick and controlled, but her strength isn't enough to finish a fight.
Then his gaze shifted to the large-built man — Rogan. Each swing of his longsword cut the air with a heavy whoosh, power radiating through every strike. But Hunnt could see it even from afar — the rhythm was broken, every motion too forceful.
As Rogan swung again, the edge of his blade chipped, cracks running down the length of the weapon.
Hunnt exhaled softly. "Raw strength… no control," he muttered. "Just like Maerin said."
He narrowed his eyes, activating his Observation Haki. The world slowed. Rogan's stance, his breath, even the slight tremor in his arms became clear.
There it was — the imbalance. The sword carried strength, but no rhythm. The body moved before the mind, the spirit out of tune with the weapon.
Hunnt lowered his gaze. "It's the same unease I felt when I first trained with every weapon," he thought. "The rhythm's off — the power's fighting itself."
He watched a moment longer as Rogan reset his stance, panting, frustration showing in every swing. Hunnt's eyes softened. "You've got potential," he whispered. "But your sword doesn't trust you yet."
The air around the yard stilled — the Drifter had returned, and the next trials were about to begin.