Ayzek woke before dawn.
The city had been quiet through the night, yet something in the air felt heavy —
as if the silence itself carried a warning.
Naeva's words echoed in his mind:
"Balance is fragile, traveler."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
Even without mana, he could still recall the rhythm of the water,
that faint echo pulsing through his veins — familiar, but unreachable.
He had no skill to understand it, yet it lingered within him, quietly.
After strapping on his armor, he stepped outside.
The morning market was alive with voices, merchants shouting, carts rattling.
Ayzek moved through them silently, making his way toward the blacksmith's shop.
Ulf stood at the door, wiping soot from his hands.
When he saw Ayzek, he grinned.
> "Good to see you again, Ayzek! Father left early this morning,
but he told me to say this — if you ever come across materials like those again,
bring them to us. Working with such things tests even a master's hands."
Ayzek gave a brief nod.
> "Understood."
The smell of iron and burning coal filled the air.
He glanced inside —
for a heartbeat, the glow of the forge reminded him of another world, another time.
Then he turned and headed toward the Guild.
A crowd had gathered there — new adventurers, fresh armor, nervous laughter.
A voice rang out from the notice board:
> "Attention! Magical disturbances detected in the northern forest!
Volunteers of D and C rank, report immediately!"
The words magical disturbances made him pause.
Even without mana, something inside him trembled —
a faint resonance, like a whisper calling from afar.
"Maybe this is where it begins…" he thought.
He tore the notice from the board, folded it once, and slipped it into his belt.
His next journey had already begun —
quietly, as always.