The next morning,the tavern was quieter than usual that morning, the sun slanting through the windows in golden beams that danced across the polished wooden tables. Outside, the streets of Selam were beginning to hum with merchants opening their stalls, horses stamping in the cobblestones, and the distant strum of a lute from a wandering bard. Inside, Laxyie, Lyla, and Tyke lingered over the remnants of breakfast, still savoring the calm after the goblin fight.
Laxyie had been unusually quiet, his dark eyes fixed on Lyla. She had told him everything about her class the night before—the intricacies of Valor Manifest, the disciplines of Iron Resolve, Tempest Blade, War Cry, Titan Stance, and Soul Forge. Even now, as he chewed thoughtfully, the information kept returning to him, like puzzle pieces pressing against the edges of a picture he hadn't yet seen.
"So… you're telling me," he began slowly, "that everything you do comes from… will? From yourself?"
Lyla's green hair caught the sunlight as she leaned back in her chair, a hand resting casually on her sword's hilt. "Exactly," she said. "Nothing external. No magic veins, no mana, no borrowed force. Just you, your body, your training, and your intent. That's why the path is so… brutal. One misstep, one lack of resolve, and it could end your life."
Laxyie nodded, silent for a moment. He traced the rim of his cup with a finger. "I see… So it's about control. Discipline. Channeling everything inside you. Turning pain and willpower into power itself."
"That's it," Lyla said. "Every choice you make, every step you take, is part of the manifestation. A warrior's strength is as much mental as it is physical. And there's no mercy for mistakes."
Tyke, who had been staring at his breakfast like it was the most fascinating thing in the world, finally piped up. "Does that mean… you can basically ignore magic attacks? Like, they hit you, but you… absorb them?" His red eyes were wide with curiosity, a frown creasing his small brow. "Wouldn't that hurt… a lot?"
"It does," Lyla said, her tone clipped but calm. "Iron Resolve isn't pain-free. Each strike, each burn, each wound—every failure leaves a mark. You grow stronger because you endure, not because it doesn't hurt."
Tyke made a small, squeaky noise. "Sounds… scary. But also kinda cool."
Laxyie's gaze darkened, thoughtful. "And if I wanted to do something like this… what would I even be? I have no idea what my path is. My skills… my abilities… I can't even put a name on it yet."
Lyla's eyes softened a little. "That's normal. Every warrior—or assassin, mage, or hunter—has to find what defines them. Strength without direction is just… chaos."
Laxyie leaned back, fists lightly clenching. Chaos. That word rang louder than he expected. His mother. Tyke. The goblins. Aîiurh. Every single one of them reminded him that he was still weak. That he had a long way to go. "I need… to get stronger," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "And I need to know what I am before it's too late."
Tyke tilted his head. "Do you ever… wonder where I come from? Or why I'm… like I am?" His small frame shifted in the chair, the bandages on his leg peeking from beneath his trousers. "I feel different sometimes… I notice things before anyone else, but I don't know why."
Laxyie glanced at him, the shadows under his pale eyes flickering with something almost protective. "We'll figure it out," he said. "Just focus on recovering for now. You'll have your chance soon."
Tyke's red eyes flickered with irritation. "Yeah, but I want to be part of everything! I'm not a baby!"
"You're not," Laxyie said, patting him lightly on the head. "You're stubborn. And that's a good thing."
Lyla laughed softly, shaking her head. "Reminds me of my comrades," she murmured quietly, her gaze distant for a moment.
The three of them left the tavern in a quiet rhythm, their footsteps echoing off Selam's streets. The day was young, but the city already felt alive with potential. Merchants shouted across the plazas, street performers leapt and tumbled, and the scent of baked bread and spiced ale mingled with the river breeze.
Back at the inn, the rooms were tidy but modest. They each took a few moments to prepare for the mission ahead. Tyke carefully wrapped his leg, wincing slightly, while Laxyie checked the straps on his dagger sheath. Lyla tightened the straps of her armor, testing the weight of her sword as she swung it lightly.
That evening, they returned to the tavern, their familiar haunt, to seek out new work. Laxyie's mind was far away, spinning with thoughts of classes, disciplines, and power. Every conversation with Lyla had planted seeds, questions he could not yet answer, and visions of battles yet to come.
When the innkeeper mentioned a request posted at the bulletin board, their attention sharpened.
"A daughter of one of the town's chief has been captured by bandits," he said, gesturing toward the faded parchment. "They were last seen heading into the Forest of Vanghlan. The reward… and the notoriety… is significant."
Laxyie read the notice carefully. He exchanged a glance with Lyla. "This… is the opportunity we need," he said under his breath. Tyke's eyes went wide. "Notoriety?" he echoed.
"Yes," Laxyie murmured. "We need to show our strength, our ability to handle a mission with risk. If we succeed… people will know our names. Our presence. And if our enemies are watching Aîiurh especially will get to know… they'll understand that we're not to be trifled with."
Tyke's lip trembled slightly. "Can I go?" He looked at Laxyie with pleading eyes.
Laxyie shook his head gently. "Not this time. You're still recovering. I can't risk your leg getting worse. But you'll come next. I promise."
Tyke's face fell, frustration flashing across his small features. "But… I want to help!" he said, voice cracking slightly. "I'm not useless!"
"You're not useless," Laxyie said, kneeling slightly to meet Tyke's gaze. "But strength isn't just about fighting. It's about surviving until you're ready. You'll get your chance. And when you do, you'll surprise everyone."
Tyke looked away for a moment, stubbornness warring with disappointment. Then, finally, he nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, defiant smile. "Fine. But I'm counting on you."
Laxyie patted him on the head, a rare, small smile tugging at his lips. Lyla laughed from behind them, shaking her head. "You're quite the team already," she said softly. Then, almost to herself, she added, "I just hope we can all make it… like this."as she remembered her fallen comrades.
The night was quiet when they returned to the inn. Tyke curled beneath blankets, muttering faintly about seafood and goblins, and eventually drifted into a restless sleep. Laxyie and Lyla watched him for a moment, then retreated to their respective rooms. Thoughts of battle, power, and unknown paths filled their minds. Sleep came uneasy, haunted by anticipation of the coming mission.
The next morning, sunlight painted the city in gold and amber. Birds cried out from the rooftops, and the smell of the river was crisp in the air. Laxyie and Lyla met at the tavern, ready for their departure. The inn's boards were quiet; Selam was just waking to a normal day, unaware of the small party moving against the shadows in its forests.
"Vanghlan Forest," Lyla said, eyes scanning the distant horizon. "Dense woods, bandits likely have traps and ambush points."
Laxyie nodded. "Perfect. Opportunity to test our teamwork… and for me to understand more about who and what I am."
Tyke appeared in the doorway, still limping slightly but determined. "I'll… stay behind," he said, hands balled in fists. "But I'll be cheering you on."
"You'll see everything next time," Laxyie said. "And we'll go slow. No unnecessary risk."
Tyke crossed his arms, muttering, "I'll hold you to that." Then his lips curved into a small smirk. "Don't get eaten out there."
Lyla laughed, adjusting her sword on her back. "Careful," she said. "If you underestimate the forest, it might eat you anyway."
The two of them left the city gates, the path leading east toward the looming green shadow of Vanghlan Forest. Birds scattered from branches overhead as a gentle wind stirred the leaves. Laxyie's mind raced with possibilities. What class would he discover? What power could he wield? How could he match the strength of Lyla, who had survived the crucible of her Valor-Bound training?
The forest edges appeared in the distance, dark and foreboding. Twisting branches, thick roots, and the distant calls of birds and beasts warned of natural hazards and the hidden dangers of bandits who knew every tree and shadow. Laxyie's hand brushed over his dagger, Lyla's grip tightened on her sword, and the sun dipped slightly as if preparing them for what was to come.
"This mission," Laxyie murmured, "it's not just about rescuing someone… it's about gaining notoriety." He glanced at Lyla. "And learning what we're really capable of as a team."
She nodded. "Then let's not waste any time."
Step by step, the path into Vanghlan Forest swallowed them in shadow, the first leaves rustling with whispers of danger, adventure, and the tests ahead. For Laxyie, Lyla, and Tyke—though separated for now—this would be the beginning of an epic journey that could change everything in Zorka, and perhaps all of Azol.