The cool night air of the borderlands hit Kael's face like a splash of spring water. Behind them, the muffled sounds of the The Rusty Lantern—the shouting, the thud of overturned chairs, and the clatter of steel—faded as Sam led him through a maze of high-stacked hay barrels and into the shadows of the tree line.
Sam didn't stop until they were at least a mile away, tucked into a small ravine where the sound of a running stream masked their breathing.
"First rule of the road, Kael," Sam panted, leaning against a mossy rock. "Never show gold to a man who hasn't eaten in two days. And never show ancient gold to a man who's armed."
Kael looked down at his boots, feeling the weight of the Stasis Ring on his finger. "I didn't think... it was just a coin. Elara had hundreds of them in the chest."
Sam whistled low, his eyes widening. "Hundreds? Friend, if you have a pouch full of those, you aren't a traveler. You're a walking civil war. Those coins aren't just currency; they're artifacts. Collectors in the Capital would kill their own mothers for a handful of 'Age of Ash' gold."
Kael sat on the damp grass, pulling his knees to his chest. The transition from the jungle was proving to be more jarring than he had anticipated. In the jungle, power was measured by how many beasts you could deter or heal. Here, power seemed to be measured by the luster of a metal circle.
"I just wanted to see the world," Kael said softly. "Mother told me to live."
Sam watched him for a long moment. The merchant's sharp, calculating gaze softened into something that looked remarkably like pity—though it was quickly replaced by a bright, ambitious spark. He walked over and sat across from Kael, extending a hand.
"How about a deal?" Sam asked. "A merchant's promise."
"What kind of deal?"
"You clearly have the 'Heavens' Touch' with that magic of yours. I've seen Archmages at the Capital who couldn't knit a wound that cleanly without a three-minute chant. But you? You're a babe in the woods when it comes to people. You'll be robbed, shackled, or conscripted into the Royal Army within a week if you go it alone."
Sam leaned forward, his voice earnest. "I know the roads. I know the exchange rates, the shortcuts, and which lords are looking for 'miracle workers.' I'll be your eyes, your ears, and your mouth. I'll manage the gold, find the inns, and keep the mercenaries off our backs."
"And in return?" Kael asked.
"In return, you keep me alive," Sam grinned, flashing a row of slightly crooked but white teeth. "And when we reach the trade hubs, we split whatever we earn from your healing. I want to be more than a peddler with a broken wagon, Kael. I want to build something. A legacy. 'The Willer Merchant Guild.' Sounds good, doesn't it?"
Kael thought of Elara's final words. Fall in love. Get your heart broken. Live. He didn't know if this was what she meant, but he knew he couldn't survive the "quiet" world alone. Sam was loud, vibrant, and seemed to know the rhythm of this strange, thin-aired reality.
Kael reached out and shook Sam's hand. "A merchant's promise."
"Excellent!" Sam stood up, clapping his hands together. "Now, first thing's first. Give me that pouch. Not all of it—just the ancient gold. I'll hide it in the false bottom of my pack. If we get stopped by a patrol, we'll tell them you're an apprentice healer and I'm your guardian. We'll use standard copper and silver for the road."
Kael handed over the pouch. He felt a brief moment of hesitation, but the warmth in Sam's eyes dispelled it. Sam was the only person who had looked at him with a smile rather than a sneer today.
The night had barely settled when the atmosphere shifted. The stream, which had been a comforting babble, suddenly felt deafening in a forest that had gone deathly silent.
"Kael," Sam whispered, his hand going to the small dagger at his belt. "Something's wrong."
From the thicket above the ravine, two glowing, violet eyes ignited. A Shadow-Stalker—a beast that shouldn't have been this far from the deep mountain passes. It was a predator that fed on mana, its hide naturally resistant to standard spells.
With a roar that sounded like grinding stone, the beast leapt. Sam scrambled backward, but his heel caught on a root. The Shadow-Stalker was in the air, its obsidian claws inches from Sam's throat.
Kael didn't think. He didn't have time to worry about the Stasis Ring or the "standard" 3-Ring disguise.
He stood his ground, his left hand snapping upward. The Stasis Ring vibrated violently, emitting a high-pitched whine as Kael forced a surge of mana through its limiters.
"Primordial Pillar: White Sun!"
He didn't draw a circle. He breathed one into existence.
A singular, blindingly white ring materialized—not in front of him, but encircling the beast itself. Unlike the murky rings of the tavern mages, this one was composed of liquid fire and ancient runes that hummed with the power of a thousand-year lineage.
The ring contracted instantly. The "Ancient Art" didn't just burn; it erased. The Shadow-Stalker didn't even have time to whimper. Where the white light touched its shadowy hide, the beast simply dissolved into ash, leaving nothing behind but a faint scent of ozone and the scorched grass of the ravine.
Silence returned, heavier than before.
Sam was still on the ground, his face as pale as the moon. He stared at the spot where the beast had vanished, then up at Kael. The golden light was still fading from Kael's eyes, and for a split second, the boy from the jungle looked like an ancient, vengeful god.
"That... that wasn't a 1-Ring spell," Sam breathed, his voice trembling. "Kael, that was... what was that?"
Kael let out a long breath, the Stasis Ring finally cooling on his finger. He felt the exhaustion of the forced output. "Just something Mother taught me. She called it 'The Art of the Beginning.'"
Sam stood up slowly, brushing the dirt from his clothes. He looked at Kael with a new kind of intensity. It wasn't just gratitude anymore; it was awe, bordering on reverence—and something else, a deep-seated realization of just how valuable his new partner truly was.
"You saved my life," Sam said, stepping forward and gripping Kael's forearm firmly. "A merchant never forgets a debt like that, Kael. We aren't just partners now. We're brothers. I swear it."
Kael smiled, feeling the weight of the loneliness lift. "Brothers. I like the sound of that."
They eventually set up a small, hidden camp as dawn began to bleed over the horizon. Sam fell asleep almost instantly, his hand resting protectively over his pack.
Kael, however, stayed awake. He sat by the dying embers of their tiny fire, looking at the Stasis Ring. He could feel his internal mana core thrumming, the pressure of the 4-Ring status pushing against the white metal.
He felt a strange sense of hope. He had a friend. He had a guide. The world was vast, and for the first time, it didn't feel quite so lonely.
He closed his eyes and whispered to the fading stars, "I'm living, Mother. I'm really living."
He didn't notice the way Sam's hand tightened around the gold-filled pouch in his sleep, nor the subtle, hungry twitch of the merchant's lips as he dreamed of a golden throne.