The morning of our departure was cold and damp with dew. Horses whinnied restlessly as Father secured the last of the crates to the carriage. Mother tugged a thick cloak over my shoulders, the fabric smelling faintly of lavender and smoke.
"Don't overexert yourself," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "You're still recovering from that… accident."
"I know, Mom."
(Though, honestly, my so-called accident nearly killed me.)
We were heading for Vaelgard, a shining city said to hum with mana like a living heart. There, a specialist would examine my broken core. Whether it could be repaired or not was another question entirely.
The carriage creaked into motion, wheels grinding against the dirt road. Father held the reins up front, while Mother and I sat inside. I leaned against the window, watching the forests pass in a blur of green and gold. Every turn of the wheel felt like a reminder that I was leaving home behind.
Days slipped by in a haze of rumbling wheels and the rhythmic snorts of the horses. We met merchant caravans and once crossed paths with a squad of armored knights, their banner stitched with a silver hawk. I watched until their figures vanished into mist my heart tightening with that old, buried craving for adventure.
By the fourth day, exhaustion began to dull even my curiosity. So when Father announced that we'd stop at an inn for the night, I nearly cheered.
The Ironhearth Inn stood at the edge of a pine forest, its windows glowing with soft amber light. The scent of roasting meat and baked bread pulled us inside before we even realized it. The main hall was alive with chatter and laughter the sound of travelers escaping the weight of the road.
That was when I saw them again.
Five adventurers sat near the hearth, their gear glinting faintly in the firelight. They weren't the loudest people in the room, yet the space seemed to bend subtly around them, as though even the air recognized their strength.
Embroidered on each of their cloaks was a crimson crescent surrounded by silver streaks the Crimson Moon, one of the most renowned adventuring groups on the continent.
At the center sat a tall woman cleaning a rune-etched longbow Lyra Vale a Enhancer, known for her precision as a magic archer. To her right lounged a broad-shouldered man with a spear resting across his knees Ronan Tessar a Enhancer, whose relaxed grin couldn't quite hide the sharpness in his eyes.
Across from him, a green-haired girl spun two daggers between her fingers, each motion smooth and teasing Scarlet Winterbell a Enhancer, the youngest member, famed for her speed.
Beside her, a composed woman with short Yellow hair stirred her drink lazily; faint currents of air swirled with each movement Alina Reiss a manifester, with water attributes. The last member, a sturdy man with stone-dusted gloves, laughed softly at her side Darren Holt, a manifester with Earth attributes and the group's unofficial guardian.
The inn buzzed quietly at their presence. Even the innkeeper's hands trembled slightly when he brought them another round of drinks.
I must've been staring too long because Scarlet sharp eyes met mine. She smirked. "What's this? Got yourself a fan, Lyra."
Lyra looked up, meeting my gaze with amused calm. "Seems so. Curious one, aren't you, little man we didn't get the chance to talk much after the raid?"
My mother placed a hand on my shoulder protectively, but Father chuckled. "He's just curious. He's been fascinated with adventurers lately."
Ronan leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. "Is that so? Thinking about joining a guild someday?"
"Maybe," I replied softly. "But right now, I'm learning how mana works."
That got their attention. Alina tilted her head, eyes narrowing as if sensing something. "Your mana flow feels… fractured."
The air grew heavy for a heartbeat.
Lyra's expression softened, but Darren muttered quietly, "Broken core, huh? Poor kid."
Mother stiffened. "He's fine," she said quickly, though her voice wavered.
Ronan raised his hands. "Hey, easy. No offense meant. It's just rare to see a kid that young even trying to channel mana."
"I like learning," I said simply, forcing a smile.
That made Ronan laugh. "I like this one. He's got guts."
Scarlet went quiet after that time, it looks like she doesn't talk too much like Ronan.
From there, the conversation eased. They spoke of hunts in the Beast Planes about mutated wyverns, collapsing tunnels, and once, a city-wide mana storm. I listened silently, engraving every word. Their stories painted the world beyond my small life in colors brighter than any dream.
Later that night, my parents retired to our room, but I stayed behind near the hearth. The Crimson Moon lingered, finishing their drinks. Outside, the forest wind howled softly.
I spotted Ronan by the stables, polishing his spear under the moonlight. Gathering what little courage I had, I walked toward him.
He looked up. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not really," I said. "You've fought in the Beast Planes, right?"
He chuckled. "Plenty of times. Why looking to fight one too?"
"Someday," I admitted. "But my core's… broken. So right now, I can't use mana at all."
The humor in his face faded slightly, replaced by something more thoughtful. "That's rough, kid. But you know…" He turned the spear in his hand, its tip catching the moonlight. "Strength doesn't just come from mana."
I frowned. "Then from what?"
"From will. From knowing what you want badly enough to bleed for it." He smirked again. "Tell you what how about a little spar tomorrow morning? No magic, just wooden staves. Let's see how much of that 'will' you've got."
I blinked. "A spar? With you?"
"Don't worry, I'll hold back." His grin widened. "You've got the look of someone who's itching for a challenge."
From the inn door, Lyra's calm voice called, "Ronan! Try not to break another promising kid, alright?"
He laughed, waving her off. "Relax, I'll be gentle!"
I stared at the spear in his hand, then at my small, trembling fingers. Something inside me stirred not fear, but anticipation. The same feeling I used to get before stepping onto a stage I knew could destroy me.
"Alright," I said quietly. "Tomorrow."
Ronan's grin brightened, proud and wild.
"That's the spirit. you look like Darius son now.!"