Inside Melune's Trade Tower, a pair of orange-scaled feet darted at full speed, knocking over stalls along the way. Behind the creature, a group of vendors chased after it, hurling insults as it slipped away once again—the same damn lizard as always.
Before they could catch it, the animal turned a corner and vanished.
Outside, beneath a second-floor balcony, a boy waited. He tapped his foot against the ground, head lowered to avoid drawing attention. The wind from the plaza toyed with his gray hair, revealing a few white strands. Eden frowned, eyes locked on the balcony.
"Ahh… I said last time was the last," he muttered, his impatience rising.
Suddenly—through a curtain and with a botched flip off the balcony—the lizard slammed onto a nearby rooftop. Wrapped in the same fabric it had leapt through, it rolled and slid until it dropped right at Eden's feet. The boy flinched at the dull thud.
"F… damn it, Mielchor," he murmured, approaching the still bundle with caution. "I told you: the roof, and from there—"
The lump suddenly sprang to life. From within the tangled curtains, Mielchor emerged. Eyes bulging, tongue hanging out, he triumphantly raised an enormous honey jar above his head—proud of his glorious heist.
"Mielchor, Mielchor!" Eden shook him, panicked. "Hurry! This is not the time for your victory poses!"
From above, a vendor pointed at them, furious, shouting that he was the thief. At the same time, footsteps and voices thundered from inside the tower.
Shaking off the chaos, the lizard assessed the situation—and hurled the honey jar at Eden. The boy caught it purely by instinct.
The tower doors burst open; guards and furious merchants surged toward them. Eden slowly turned to face the crowd, jar in hand.
"Run!" he shouted, tossing the jar back to Mielchor before sprinting.
They fled down an alley toward Alabard's central plaza.
"Kuh, kuh," Mielchor coughed.
Eden glanced at him. The moment he spotted that mischievous grin, he clicked his tongue and tapped his chest—signal to throw the jar. But in that brief distraction, neither of them noticed the carriage barreling straight at them. It was pulled by a pair of krováxid—massive crabs, nearly five feet tall, shells made of hardened, lightweight stone. Their mineral-black legs clacked against the cobblestone, harsh and dry.
In a swift motion, Mielchor hurled the jar over the carriage just as both of them dove beneath it. The vessel dropped onto Eden, who failed to catch it; the weight crushed him to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs.
"Son of a—" he wheezed, struggling to shove the jar off his chest.
The container was intact, and the carriage had blocked their pursuers. Mielchor leapt ahead. He puffed out his cheeks and spat—releasing a dense smoke curtain that blanketed nearly the whole plaza.
"All right, all right… let's go!" Eden said, scrambling to his feet while grabbing the jar.
With a quick nudge, he signaled Mielchor it was time to bolt. Together, they slipped into the crowd.
Night fell behind them. They sprinted until Alabard's lights faded in the distance. They crossed empty fields, the only sound the dry whisper of grass in the breeze, and passed moss-covered ruins—remnants of a dead age.
The forest drew near. Finally feeling safe, Eden dropped against a crumbling wall, panting.
"That was close… way too close."
Mielchor hugged the jar proudly against his scaly chest. Eden looked at him, exhausted, and let out a small laugh through clenched teeth.
"Fine, you earned it. But this is where we split."
The creature tilted its head, confused. Eden gently patted him.
"Remember—I leave tomorrow. So either you learn how to get honey without stealing…" He chuckled weakly. "Or get ready to spend some time in a cell."
Mielchor huffed with a childish growl before fading into the growing night. Eden was alone, wrapped in silence.
The full moon hung high; the city's noise dwindled into a faint murmur. Eden walked along a rocky path, ruins dissolving into the dark behind him. He moved absent-mindedly, holding something in his hands.
"At last… enough money to leave this city," he whispered, voice worn out as he counted coins under silver light.
The tally: twenty-seven silver coins and one hundred fifty-eight copper. Not a fortune, but enough to keep a family of seven fed for nearly three months.
And still, satisfaction barely touched his face. In his eyes, a shadow lingered… grief? Disappointment?
"This isn't what they taught me…" His voice cracked, heavy. "What would they think of me?"
The thought echoed inside him.
The ruins had been behind him for a while; the stone road was ending. Eden veered into the forest, making sure no one was tailing him. Moonlight struggled to slip through the thick canopy.
He jogged for a few minutes until he reached a clearing. Relief washed over him—his belongings remained hidden beneath a pile of leaves at the base of a tree near the river.
He pulled out a light set of armor and his old backpack, worn from travel and time. There were barely any possessions inside. Among them, a long dagger—an improvised trophy he'd picked up when an adventurer dropped it during a tavern brawl.
Before sleeping, he stepped to the river and dunked his head underwater. He scrubbed at his hair until the black dye washed away. When he lifted his head, he froze: under the moonlight, his hair shone white as snow.
"Tomorrow, we start again," he thought, lying back on a makeshift bed of leaves and branches. He raised his hand toward the starry sky, as if trying to grasp the stars.
Silently, he reviewed his plan: leave Alabard and head for Celestia, one of the nation's capitals. With a final sigh, he closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.
At dawn, he gathered his few belongings. The coins jingled in his coat pocket before he buckled on his armor—a simple polished-steel cuirass that protected his chest, shoulders, stomach, and forearms.
He leapt to his feet and returned to the main road. He had wandered off yesterday, but now urgency pushed him toward his goal: Alabard's guild. He needed directions to Celestia.
On the way, he couldn't help but notice Mielchor hadn't shown up like usual. The unexpected absence stirred a faint unease, though he tried to brush it aside.
Before departing, he bought provisions: a canteen and a travel ration—bars, nuts, and dried tomatoes—for fifteen copper. If he rationed properly, it'd last five or six days.
With everything packed into his backpack, he headed to the guild. At the front desk, a black-haired elf, just a bit shorter than him, greeted him with a polite smile.
"Good morning, young man. How can I help you?" she asked, leaning over the counter.
"Good morning," he replied, a bit nervous. "Could I have a map or some directions to get to Celestia?"
"Of course. One moment, I'll bring you a map of the area," the elf said, turning to disappear into a back room.
While he waited, Eden's gaze wandered across the polished counter. Then, a rough voice cut through his thoughts.
"Hey. You—white hair. I heard you're heading north, to Celestia. That right?"
Eden's heart skipped. He turned to meet the sharp stare of a half-orc with orange skin—who, if not for that unusual tone, could've passed for human.
"...Yeah. Why do you ask?" he said, trying to sound confident.
"My group's headed to Celestia too. You want to tag along? We're traveling by carriage."
The offer came out of nowhere. Twelve days alone, on foot, with all the risks… or travel with strangers. Tempting. Terrifying. Eden stayed silent just a moment too long.
"…Sure. I'll go with you," he finally answered. The decision left his mouth like a reflex—no reevaluation, no hesitation.
Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder. Eden turned; the receptionist had returned.
"Here's a map of the nearby regions. Celestia is here," she said, spreading out the parchment and tracing the main routes with her finger.
Eeden reached for a few bronze coins, but she stopped him with a gesture.
"No need," she said with a small smile, rolling up the map and handing it to him.
"Thank you, miss," he replied, returning the smile and offering her his hand. The elf laughed softly and shook it with surprising strength.
Back with the half-orc, Eden swallowed hard.
"When do we leave? And… how much is the carriage fee?" he asked, hoping to hear he wouldn't have to pay.
"We're leaving in a few hours, before nightfall. And since someone already paid for the last carriage, you won't owe anything," the half-orc said casually, stretching. "We'll be over at that table," he added, pointing to a table occupied by five people.
After thanking the receptionist again, he walked toward the group he'd be traveling with. As he approached, he noticed how varied they were: two dwarves, an elf with bow and arrows, a human wearing a green cloak and holding a staff, and a cat—bigger than usual—napping in the middle of the table.
He pulled a chair from another table and sat in the only open spot, between the elf and one of the dwarves. He stayed quiet for a while, until the elf at his left turned to look at him.
"And you?" she asked, talking with food still in her mouth.
Eden tilted his head, confused, waiting for her to continue. For a moment, he simply stared. She looked young, maybe just a few years older than him. Chestnut hair framed bright green eyes; her skin—pale, but not sickly—stood out against her dark leather gear.
"What's your name and all that?" she insisted, still chewing.
"Uh… I'm Eden, and…" His voice trailed off.
He didn't know what else to say. It had been so long since he'd had a normal conversation that words seemed to avoid him.
"Mhm." The elf swallowed. "And your aether affinity? Element? Whatever you want to call it."
"My affinity?" he repeated, buying time. "It's… physical enhancement." He said it with obvious uncertainty, like he feared he might be lying without realizing it.
"Though honestly," he added quickly, shrugging, "it's pretty weak. I barely understand how to use aether properly."
The elf stared at him silently. Then, her eyes flared red for a moment before fading.
Magic analysis, Eden thought, a chill running down his spine. Damn… hopefully she won't notice I'm missing that.
"Mhm." She nodded and grabbed another bite. "You've got barely any aether. I'd say about what a kid younger than you would have."
"Oh… I didn't know that." Eden fell quiet for a few seconds, then forced a smile. "Well, I guess there isn't much to be done."
"There's always something," said a voice on his right.
Eden turned.
"Huh?"
"Sorry for butting in, lad," the dwarf said, raising a hand in peace. "Name's Gundar. What I meant is: the amount you have can grow… with time and effort. We call that your aether vessel—the limit of energy your body can produce. Everyone has one—human, elf, dwarf. And over the years, it changes. No one really knows why."
"Bah! It's an aether core. Or mana, if you want to talk properly, you stubborn rock-gnawer," the elf barked, washing her words down with another gulp of beer.
"At least I'm giving the boy advice, unlike you. All you do is discourage him." Gundar didn't even look at her, but his tone sharpened.
"Advice?" she scoffed, leaning closer. "There's no proof the core grows beyond natural development. That's not advice—that's fantasy!" She poked his shoulder with one finger.
"You stink," Gundar grumbled, brushing her hand away. "And don't touch me, drunkard."
The elf scowled and huffed.
"Hey, it's fine," Eden cut in, raising his hands between them but not daring to touch either. "Really, let's drop it."
His words fell flat. The argument carried on—insults, grumbles, the whole package. Watching them, Eden heard a soft sound to his right. Another dwarf—not Gundar—was looking at him from the next table. He gestured lightly, inviting Eden closer.
"They're at it again," he chuckled, lifting his drink.
"Are they always like this?" Eden asked, pointing toward the ongoing fight.
The dwarf ran a hand across his mouth, covering it as he yawned.
"Yep. I always tease them, saying folks who fight end up lovey-dovey once they're done." He took a long drink, finishing his mug. "Anyway, name's Grumblin, and the bearded one over there—" he pointed at Gundar "—is my older brother. I heard you can't improve yourself much because you don't really know how to use aether, huh?"
"Sure!" he replied with fake enthusiasm. This is getting out of hand, he muttered under his breath.
"Well then, let's go outside. I think I can help you with that."He hopped off his chair and headed toward the exit, motioning for him to follow.
"He doesn't even know me… Why is he trying to help? Still… I don't sense anything bad from him." Eden whispered, covering his mouth.
He was somewhat perplexed by Grumblin's sudden offer of help. But he was already buried deep enough in this lie, so in his mind, there was no other choice but to keep playing along and hope he wouldn't be found out.
"Why do you want to help me? What do you gain from it?" he asked as he followed Grumblin, now a few steps outside the guild.
Grumblin kept walking, scratching the back of his neck.
"Well… I'm trying to follow in my father's footsteps, he…" he exhaled, frustrated."He always said that if you're good—without expecting anything in return—you will be rewarded. I never paid much attention to that, I even thought it was stupid. But after he passed, I realized he might've been right. So now, whenever I can, I try to help those who need it."Several seconds of silence passed as they walked. Grumblin's hand slowly lowered."I just wish I hadn't been such an idiot during the last moments I had with him…" He clenched his fists, frustrated.
Hearing his words, Eden felt a stab of regret. I shouldn't have asked, he thought. Along with regret came a bit of anxiety. He wondered if his question about what Grumblin gained from helping might have sounded like he was looking down on him.
"All right, this place should do," Grumblin said once they reached a small park near the guild. Before Eden could respond, he lay down on the grass. "Okay," he sighed calmly. "Make yourself comfortable."
"Uh… okay." Eden hesitated but sat down in front of him, less than a meter away."So… now what?"
"Close your eyes, relax, and don't think about anything. Absolutely nothing."
Eden followed his instructions. He closed his eyes, pressed his palms together, relaxed his shoulders, and let out a long breath as he tried to empty his mind.
"Is that it? What now?" he asked, trying not to lose focus.
"Visualize yourself—how you think you are: your being, your soul."
"All right… I'll try."
A bit nervous, he began to picture himself. Slowly, he formed a mental image: his messy white hair, pale skin, several small scars on his back, another on his left ear, and his red pupils. As the image took shape, he noticed something inside himself—like a mass, a liquid. It was a fluorescent white substance floating inside him, at the center of his chest where the heart should be. It resembled a sphere, though its shape wavered, deforming every few moments.
"I see… I see something glowing inside me—something white," he said with intrigue. "What is it? Is that ether?"
"Well… yes, that's ether… or, well, it should be." Grumblin answered, sounding uncertain.
"Why do you say it like that?"
"It's nothing. Now try extracting that energy from there."
"Should I reach out my hand and try to grab it?"
"No, no. Try pulling it out… with your mind. With your will. I don't know how to explain it better," he said, a bit disappointed.
"Okay… I'll try."
He took a deep breath and focused on the ether core. He tried to feel his connection to it, attempting to influence it with his mind and will. Slowly, he reached out—not with his physical hands nor his soul's, but with his will from where he observed everything. As his fingers approached the core, they passed through his chest without sensation. Once they touched the glowing ether, it began to travel along his arm, from his fingertips to his forearm. In that mental plane, his hand and forearm shone bright white, while his physical hand felt significantly lighter. Grumblin watched, stunned, as tiny white sparks flickered from Eden's left hand before fading.
Driven by curiosity, Eden pushed his hand deeper into the strange energy. As he did, all of it flowed into his hand. Within the ether plane, his hand overflowed with power, emitting bright rays of white light. Meanwhile, Grumblin saw how the boy's hand became coated in white ether that formed into claw-like tips and wrapped around the rest of his hand like armor. That armor unraveled into rootlike patterns that spread up his forearm.
"Good! Now try moving," Grumblin said with excitement as he stepped aside.
Eden raised his arm, which had been resting on his lap. He meant to move gently, but his hand shot forward at great speed, unleashing a slash of condensed ether. The attack passed inches from Grumblin, who barely noticed it in time. The slash then shot upward, quickly disappearing into the clear sky.
"So? How was that?" Eden asked, thrilled, opening his eyes hesitantly.
Before he could say anything else, he saw the tree in front of him, several meters away, begin to slide apart—revealing a clean cut splitting it in two.
And behind the sliced trunk stood Melchor, covering his head in terror. He had been following Eden in secret ever since he entered Alabard, shadowing his every step because he didn't want to be separated from his good friend.
"D-Did I do that?!" Eden asked in a mix of excitement and disbelief, pointing at the tree.
"Y-Yeah, but… Are you sure your affinity is Enhancement?" Grumblin asked skeptically. "You sure it isn't something like lightning or slashing? When you were concentrating earlier, your arm was covered in white ether and it was releasing tiny sparks. Although… lightning ether is usually tinted blue or cyan," he whispered.
"Uh…" Eden lowered his head.He helped me… I shouldn't lie… But what if he tells people I don't have an element? I don't think he's a bad person…These thoughts flooded his mind in an instant, repeating over and over, making him more nervous.
"You see…" he went silent for a moment. "Grumblin, how do I say this— ha… ha… ha…" He laughed nervously, then let out a deep sigh.
"It's fine. If it's an important secret, you don't have to tell me—"
"Sorry, it's just…" Eden shrugged, closing his eyes as if bracing for a harsh response. "I'm just… clumsy with magic."He said it, but even he didn't sound convinced.
Silence fell—long enough to feel eternal.Eeden waited for Grumblin's reaction. Grumblin searched for the right words, but none existed. He had never heard, seen, or even read about anything like this. His mind was split between awe and confusion.
"Well…" He exhaled. "Honestly, I don't know what to say, kid. It's… I don't know… weird? I've never heard of anything like it. I did read about an ancient king who couldn't use his copy magic until he was seventeen, but… according to the records, he couldn't even use ether, much less extract it."He fell silent for a moment, muttering into his hand."I don't know how others would react if they found out. Did you feel anything strange when your arm was covered in mana?"
"Uh… yeah. It felt light—like floating on water. And even though I tried to move slowly, it moved qui—"
A small droplet of blood slid from his nose. A cold wave rushed through his body, like plunging into freezing water. He felt dizzy, his vision clouding.
"Grumblin, what's…?"He collapsed, still conscious, but unable to speak clearly.
"You probably used too much ether, or ran out. Lie on your side so the blood doesn't go into your lungs. Rest until the dizziness goes away."
Minutes passed after Eden collapsed, worn out from the reckless use of ether. Grumblin sat beneath a nearby tree, out of Eden's line of sight, carving a piece of wood with a small knife—taken from the very tree Eden had cut.
"I think I'm fine now."Eden stood with effort, wobbling, but managed to stay upright.
"Looks like you're better. Try walking. If you face-plant, I'll laugh," he teased.
Just staying upright felt like an accomplishment. His body swayed constantly, his head spinning. He stood still for a moment after hearing Grumblin, trying to clear his mind. After a few steps, his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, catching himself with his hands.
"Grumblin… I don't think I'll be able to walk for a while. Could you—"
"Call me Grum, kid. And help you? Of course."He grinned and stood, helping Eden back to his feet.
Back inside the guild, the atmosphere hadn't improved.The argument that had begun before they left had only grown.
"The ether vessel can grow!" someone shouted angrily.
"Stop confusing the boy with your stupid beliefs!" the elf snapped."Just like you might say that a dwarf only knows how to swing a hammer at metal!"
"Ugh," he groaned. "At least I'm not one of those lofty, graceful, centuries-old elves who can't even talk to a child." He spat the words. "Not that I see any around—just a drunk, grumpy elf…"
He was cut off by a loud bang on the table, courtesy of the man who had invited Eden to join their group earlier.
"Come on, Vairon, just let me crush this tiny, little, microscopic hammer-lov—"She was still insulting Gundar and trying to swing at him when she was interrupted.
"Tsk." Vairon clicked his tongue. "Nexus—link to…"He stretched one hand toward the elf, searching with his eyes for a safe spot to throw her. Upon finding a wall where collateral damage would be minimal, he pointed his other hand at it."Link to wall—contract."
The elf was yanked toward the wall at impressive speed. She slammed into it and hung there a few inches above the ground, stunned.
"Let me go! Let me go already!" she shouted, thrashing and trying to pull herself free. "Why is it always me?! The dwarf started it!"
"Because I heard everything. Gods, is she always like this? Or just when she's—?" he asked Gundar.
"Vairon! Put me down!" she screeched from across the room, cutting him off.
"She's always annoying, but when she drinks, she becomes unbearable."Gundar let out a long sigh. "Leave her there until she runs out of steam." He sat down and resumed drinking."Tell me—why'd you invite the kid? I doubt he's good at fighting or magic. You heard him. He said he can barely use his enhancement magic."
Vairon burst out laughing at the question.A few moments later, wiping tears from his eyes, he asked:
"You any good at reading people? Is that a dwarf thing?"He snorted at his own joke, but when he saw Gundar's face, he realized it hadn't landed."Sorry. Bad joke. Honestly, I don't have a real reason." He paused, thinking. "Just… why not? In his place, I'd have liked to travel for free too."
"As the leader—the one who should make important decisions—you're the softest of us. Bringing a rookie…" Gundar grumbled, taking another drink.
"Would you have rejected him?"
"No. If he'd asked to join, I wouldn't have turned him away. But inviting him myself? I wouldn't have done that."
"And you call me soft?" Vairon struggled not to laugh. "What—too embarrassed to invite a newbie to the group?"
A grin stretched across Gundar's face."Let's drop it. Either way, whatever happens to the kid is on you." He sat back down to drink again.
A while later, Grumblin and Eden re-entered. Eden still couldn't walk properly without support. Seeing them, Vairon gestured to the seats.
"Did you two have a spar or something?" asked the feline lounging at the center of the table."The snow-boy's all out of juice," he said, glancing at Vairon.
"Th-the cat talks?!" Eden yelped, pointing at him.
Laughter erupted around the table.
"Yes, I talk. And better than you, kid," the feline said proudly, rolling on the tabletop.
"Oh—sorry. I've just—never seen a talking cat." Eden leaned closer, trying to touch the creature's whiskers.
"And I'm not just a cat, snow-boy. I'm a felyne, a race of—"
A chunk of meat, tossed by Vairon, slapped onto his face, cutting his speech short.
"Anyway… back to the question, kid. You two fight?"
"Not at all. We just…"Grumblin hesitated.
"We were testing a new way for me to use my magic! Right, Grum?"Eden nudged him hard, hoping he'd pick up the cue.
"Yeah, yeah… we, uh, discovered a new spell he can cast."
A waitress approached to ask whether they wanted to order more. Vairon turned to place a few items.
In the meantime, Eden seized Grumblin angrily and whispered sharply:
"What do you mean new spell?!" He shook him. "I don't even know how I did that!"
"S-sorry, sorry—it slipped out!"
"And I can only use it once, Grum! Once! Then I'm useless!"
Maybe they were lucky Vairon wasn't paying attention, but other members of the group had heard.
"So it's a spell, snow-boy?"The felyne's ears twitched. "Good that you can develop new tricks."
"Young lad," Gundar interjected, "forgive my intrusion, but… are you perhaps an Arcanist? It's odd for a Combatant to cast spells."
Eden froze, lost for words. Grumblin tried to help but only made things worse.
Across the room, the elf stuck to the wall finally regained movement—her binding spell had faded with time. Now free, she stormed over to confront Vairon.
Gundar slammed his mug on the table. The chatter died instantly, as if someone had shut a door. His gaze—hard as the stone he worked for a living—fell on Eden.
"Listen well, boy. If you really cast a spell—even if you swear you don't know how—that's no small thing."He moved his fingers as if searching for the right words in the air."Magic doesn't appear out of nowhere. It comes from within. From that center we all carry whether we know it or not… your vessel—or your core, as the elf calls it."
He took a sip and continued, calmer now.
"When that energy flows through your alchemical circle—an unseen seal everyone has—it becomes mana. That's what lets us bend the world.A combatant channels it through his body: strengthens himself, moves faster… depending on what he needs."
Gundar stared into the bottom of his mug, thoughtful."That's how I understand it, at least," he muttered, somewhat begrudgingly. "But casting a spell—that's something else. You don't just feel it. You mold it. Give it purpose. Structure. And you claim you did it by accident."
His eyes pinned Eden with quiet weight.
"That's dangerous."
Eden swallowed hard. Grumblin tried to intervene, but Gundar raised his hand without looking at him.
"I'm not trying to scare you," he said, lower. "But your core doesn't tolerate whims. If you force a path you don't understand, it'll break you before you move forward.Each talent is different—like a fingerprint. Some are born to fortify. Others to create… and a rare few—to destroy."
Silence followed, broken only by the creak of wagon wheels outside—the carriage was ready, waiting at the inn's entrance.Vairon got up with a tired smile and told the group to prepare to leave.
One by one, they filed outside.Eden, still turning Gundar's words over in his mind, climbed aboard last.The night air hung thick with moisture and the promise of travel.The carriage rolled forward with the groan of wood and the rhythm of hooves, while inside, questions gathered like shadows no one dared to touch:
What exactly was Eden, and what price would he pay for the power he had shown without meaning to?