They reached Selam at noon.
The city looked the same as before—sunlight dancing on the lakes, music drifting through open windows, merchants calling out prices with practiced cheer. But the way people looked at them had changed.
Laxyie noticed it immediately.
Not fear. Not hostility.
Curiosity.
Eyes followed them as they crossed the eastern bridge. A group of dockworkers paused mid-argument. A wine seller stopped laughing halfway through a joke. Even the guards at the gate straightened when they saw the tusks strapped to Lyla's back—thick, heavy, unmistakably goblin.
Mount Eron had a reputation.
Clearing it did too.
Tyke limped slightly as they walked, trying—and failing—to hide it. Lyla stayed close to him, one hand always ready to steady him if he stumbled.
"Stop hovering," Tyke muttered.
"I'm not hovering," Lyla replied. "I'm making sure you don't fall on your face."
"I wouldn't."
"You absolutely would."
Laxyie said nothing, eyes scanning without effort now. He could feel the crowd's presence even without his Sensory Veil active—the subtle shifts, the way conversations dipped when they passed.
No danger.
Just attention.
"People are staring," Tyke whispered.
"They should," Lyla said. "You survived Mount Eron."
They headed straight for the guild hall near the central lake. Inside, the air smelled of parchment, ink, and old wood. A few adventurers looked up when they entered, then did a double take when they saw the tusks.
A man behind the counter stood slowly. He was older, grey-haired, with a scar that pulled one side of his mouth down.
"Mount Eron,eh?," he said, more statement than question.
Lyla dropped the tusks on the counter with a heavy thud.
Silence spread.
The man stared for a long moment, then exhaled sharply. "About time."
He reached under the counter, pulled out a ledger, and scribbled quickly. "You cleared the cave?"
"Boss included," Lyla said.
"Any losses?"
She paused. "No deaths."
The man's eyes flicked to Tyke's leg. "Injuries?"
Tyke lifted his chin. "Still standing."
The man nodded once. "Good enough."
He pushed a heavy pouch across the counter. "Payment. Plus bonus. Selam appreciates not having goblins creeping down from the mountain anymore."
Laxyie picked it up, weighing it in his hand. It was heavier than he expected.
As they turned to leave, murmurs filled the hall.
"Mount Eron?"
"Three of them?"
"That kid's injured—how'd they—"
Outside, the city noise returned like a wave.
They didn't go far.
Tyke's limp worsened once the adrenaline faded, and by the time they reached a healer's sign near the lake, he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Enough," Lyla said. "Inside."
The healer was a woman with silver-threaded hair and tired eyes. She took one look at Tyke's leg and motioned him to lie down.
"This is going to sting," she said.
"I know," Tyke replied. "I'm not—"
"Yes, yes, you're not a baby," she said with a smirk. "Hold still."
Laxyie stood near the wall, arms crossed. He watched her work—how her fingers pressed, how her eyes narrowed—noticing details he would've missed before.
The healer paused.
"…Interesting," she murmured.
Lyla looked up. "What?"
The woman glanced between Tyke and Laxyie. "Who's his blood?"
"No one," Laxyie said. "He's an orphan."
"That's not what I meant."
She placed her hand over Tyke's leg again, frowning. "There's magic here. And elemental resonance."
Lyla straightened. "Both?"
The healer nodded slowly. "That shouldn't be possible."
Tyke blinked. "Is… is that bad?"
"No," the healer said. "It's rare.quite rare in fact."
She leaned back, studying him openly now. "You perceive things quickly, don't you?"
Tyke hesitated. "…Yeah."
"Too quickly?"
"…Sometimes."
Laxyie felt something tighten in his chest.
The healer continued, voice careful. "You're not casting spells. And you're not channeling elements. You're… seeing them. Both. At once."
Silence settled.
Lyla broke it first. "That explains a lot."
Tyke swallowed. "So… what am I?"
The healer shook her head. "Too young to define. Too raw. But if you survive long enough, people will notice."
She met Laxyie's gaze. "Make sure the wrong ones don't."
She finished bandaging Tyke's leg. "He'll heal. Faster than most. Don't push it."
Outside again, the city felt louder.
Tyke was quiet now.
They found an inn near the lake—nothing fancy. As Tyke lay down to rest, Lyla stepped onto the balcony, stretching sore muscles.
"He's special," she said softly.
"He's a kid," Laxyie replied.
"Both can be true."
Laxyie didn't answer.
Night came gently to Selam. Music drifted upward, mingling with laughter and the sound of water. Lyla eventually went downstairs for food.
Laxyie stayed behind.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, staring at the floor.
When he closed his eyes, he still saw heartbeats.
When he opened them, the world felt duller than it should.
"Still too weak", he whispered
He remembered the goblin boss's weapon slamming into him. The helpless second before Lyla's war cry.
If she hadn't acted—
His jaw tightened.
Strength without control was useless. Control without strength was fatal.
He stood and stepped outside onto the balcony, letting the cool air wash over him.
Selam was peaceful.
And somewhere out there, stronger enemies waited—ones that wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't miss.
I can't rely on luck, he thought.
Or on others saving me.
Below, laughter echoed. Life went on.
Laxyie rested his hands on the railing.
"I need to get stronger," he said quietly.
Not as a wish.
As a decision.