It's been three days since I recovered from my last stunt. The world feels sharper now, more vivid. My body moves with purpose, every step, every breath measured.
I've started training again, working to refine my mana circle. This time, it's different—easier. The mana heart I forged during that desperate fight is functioning at 70% efficiency, a far cry from the shaky start I once had. Still, progress slows the higher I climb, and I know the truth. Reaching 100% efficiency is a pipe dream, a limitation of this world.
But that doesn't mean I'll stop trying.
Today's goal isn't about training, though. Today, I have a side quest—a task that requires respect, patience, and, unfortunately, charm.
"Mom! I'm ready. Can I go now?" I call out, adjusting the cloak draped over my shoulders.
Anara appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a cloth, and immediately starts fussing over me. She smooths out the edges of my cloak, adjusts the buttons on my tunic, and even tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Her hands are gentle, but her gaze is sharp, like she's inspecting every detail.
"Remember what I said," she says firmly, tilting her head to meet my eyes. "Be respectful. It's a church, not one of your sparring fields."
"I know, Mom," I reply, nodding as her hands finally drop from my shoulders.
She sighs, stepping back with a small smile. "And come home fast, Ori, okay?" Her tone softens, a mix of motherly concern and a hint of worry she can't quite hide.
"Okay, Mom," I say, flashing her a quick smile before heading out the door.
The road feels familiar beneath my boots, but I have one stop to make before heading to the church. There's something I need to settle first.
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I arrive at Darius's house, the wooden door weathered but sturdy. I raise my hand and knock—thud, thud, thud.
"Who is it?" comes Darius's gruff voice from inside, sharp and annoyed.
I don't answer.
Thud, thud, thud. I knock again, louder this time.
The door swings open abruptly, and Darius stands there, his broad frame filling the doorway. His expression shifts from irritation to surprise when he sees me.
"Ori! It's you," he says, folding his arms across his chest. "Why didn't you answer when I asked who it was?"
I meet his gaze evenly and reply, "Where is my reward?"
Darius's eyes widen, and for a moment, he just stares at me, stunned. "Reward?" he repeats, his voice rising slightly. "What reward?"
Before I can reply, a voice rings out from deeper inside the house. It's unmistakably Morgana, her tone sharp but carrying a playful lilt. "Who's at the door, honey?"
"It's Ori!" Darius shouts back, half-turning his head.
"Well, bring him in!" Morgana replies, her voice carrying with ease, as though she's used to running the show.
Before I can protest, Darius grabs me by the shoulders and pulls me inside, lifting me off the ground like I'm still a kid.
"Rascal, what reward are you talking about, huh?" he teases, spinning me slightly before setting me down with a laugh. "You want a reward? What've you been up to now?"
I brush off Darius's hands, meeting his gaze with a flat look. "Reward for my kills," I say, my tone calm but firm.
Darius blinks, then tilts his head, scratching the back of his neck. "Ah, that fight…" His voice trails off, his expression a mix of realization and amusement. A grin slowly spreads across his face. "Alright, fine. You've earned it. But next time, you might want to ask instead of demanding like some spoiled prince."
Before I can respond, a voice calls out from the kitchen. "Spoiled prince, huh? Sounds about right."
Morgana steps into view, wiping her hands on a towel. Her sharp eyes take me in, glinting with her signature blend of amusement and mockery. She leans casually against the doorframe, her posture relaxed but her words pointed.
"Asking for a reward when you just barely dragged yourself back alive?" she says with a raised brow, her tone carrying that sarcastic lilt she's mastered. "Are you sure you're Anara's son? She's got more sense in her little finger."
Darius lets out a loud snort, crossing his arms. "More like adventure spirit," he says, grinning. "The kid's always been like this."
I smirk faintly but don't reply. I let them talk. This is what Darius and Morgana do—tease, jab, and fill the air with their noisy, chaotic energy. It's their way of showing they care, though they'd never admit it outright.
Morgana waves a hand dismissively. "Well, don't just stand there, Ori," she says, her voice slipping into a more practical tone. "Sit down. Let me get you something to eat before Darius gives you whatever ridiculous 'reward' he's dreamed up."
Darius lets out a low laugh, the kind that rumbles deep in his chest. "Ridiculous, huh? I was actually thinking about the reward money," he says, his grin widening. "By taking you to adventures guild."
I raise an eyebrow. "Let's go now then."
Morgana scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes as she leans back into the doorway. "Typical. He's barely upright, and you're already dragging him to the guild. What next, Darius? A sparring match on the way there?"
Darius claps a heavy hand on my shoulder, nearly knocking me forward. "Hey, the kid's eager! Gotta give him credit. Besides, what's wrong with making sure he learns the ropes?"
Morgana shakes her head, muttering, "What's wrong is that you two share one brain cell when it comes to danger." Her voice rises again. "Don't expect me to patch him up again when he comes back half-dead!"
"I'm fine, aunt," I interject, my tone steady as I shrug off Darius's hand.
"See?" Darius says, gesturing toward me as if I've made some grand statement. "He's fine! He's tough!"
Morgana throws up her hands in mock defeat. "Fine. Go on, then. Just don't come crying to me when you realize you forgot something important—like eating, for starters."
"Eating's for after the reward," I reply dryly, turning toward the door.
Darius laughs again, his booming voice filling the room as he grabs his coat. "That's the spirit! Alright, let's move out, rascal."
As we step outside, the sun catches on Darius's armor, and the faint smell of the town fills the air—bread baking, wood burning, voices bustling.
Morgana leans out the doorway, her sharp green eyes watching us go. "Don't let him rope you into anything stupid, Ori!" she calls after me.
"No promises," I reply, my smirk faint but undeniable.
Darius throws an arm around my shoulders, his grip firm but not overbearing. "Don't worry, Morgana!" he shouts back. "I'll make sure he ropes me into something stupid instead!"
Morgana mutters something under her breath, shaking her head as she disappears back into the house.
The guild isn't far, but with Darius, it'll be loud. Always loud. I adjust my cloak and follow his lead.
The air changes as we near the adventurer's guild. It's subtle at first, but then it hits me—sweat, steel, dirt. The unmistakable scent of people who spend their days battling the wild and the unknown.
The building itself isn't impressive. It's what you'd expect in a place like this—our village is barely more than a large settlement, certainly no bustling town. The guild hall is modest in size, with a weathered wooden exterior and simple iron fittings.
When Darius pushes open the doors, the noise greets us immediately. Conversations overlap—rookie adventurers bragging about their latest exploits, low-rank parties negotiating their next jobs, the occasional laugh or clink of a tankard.
My gaze sweeps across the room. Most of them are rookies, the kind who've barely seen a real fight. A few low-rank adventurers stand out, their gear slightly better maintained, their posture a bit more confident.
This is the best this place has to offer. It's no surprise. Our village could never sustain anything higher.
Darius's group was an exception. Once B-rank adventurers, they were leagues above anyone else here before they retired. He always had that weight of experience about him, the way people respected him when he walked into a room.
"Come on," Darius says, nudging me forward with a hand on my shoulder.
We make our way to the counter, where one of the two receptionists looks up from her ledger. She's a middle-aged woman with short, neat hair and sharp eyes that dart between Darius and me.
"Welcome, Darius," she says, her voice brisk but friendly. "How may I help you today?"
Darius leans on the counter with his usual relaxed grin. "Hello, Clara. How are you holding up?"
Clara smiles faintly, tapping her pen against the ledger. "Oh, you know, same as always. Keeping these fools in line." She gestures vaguely toward the adventurers behind us. "What brings you here today?"
Before I can speak, Darius pulls me closer, practically dragging me to his side. He plants a heavy hand on my head, ruffling my hair like I'm a kid.
"You remember the wolf boy?" Darius asks with a teasing grin, tilting his head toward me.
Clara's sharp eyes flicker with recognition. "Ah, yes, I remember."
Darius chuckles, giving my hair another rough pat before I duck away from his hand. "Well, the wolf boy here came to collect his rewards for those kills."
Clara raises an eyebrow, glancing between Darius and me. "Oh, is that so?" Her lips curl into a sly smile as she leans forward slightly. "You're Anara's son, aren't you?"
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "That's right."
Clara laughs softly, shaking her head. "You've got her eyes. But I've got to say, I didn't expect to see you here so soon after that stunt with the wolves. Most kids would still be in bed recovering."
"Most kids aren't me," I reply, my tone even, but I catch the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of her mouth.
"Well, you've got her stubborn streak too, I see," Clara says with a chuckle. She flips open a logbook on the counter, running her finger down the list of entries. "Alright, let's see. Wolf bounty... Ah, here we are. Three confirmed kills from your report. That's not bad for someone your age."
"Not bad?" Darius interjects with a laugh, his voice booming. "It's damn impressive! The boy's got talent!"
Clara snorts, glancing at me again. "Or he's got someone watching his back."
I glance up at Darius, who grins down at me. "Hey, don't sell me short," he says, winking. "The kid's a natural. Didn't even need my help for two of them!"
Clara raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn't press the issue. "Alright, alright," she says, scribbling something in the logbook. "You're here for your reward. Let me process this. Wait here a moment."
As Clara steps away, I roll my eyes but let a small smirk slip through. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Of course I am," he replies, folding his arms. "What's the point of having a nephew if I can't embarrass him every now and then?"
Clara returns a moment later with a small pouch in hand. She places it on the counter and slides it toward me. "Here you go. Three kills, three silver coins. Don't spend it all in one place, alright?"
I take the pouch, the weight of it satisfying but hardly impressive. "Thanks," I say simply, tucking it into my cloak.
Darius claps me on the back, nearly knocking me forward. "Now, was that so hard? You're officially earning your keep, kid. Next stop, big leagues."
Clara shakes her head, muttering under her breath, "Adventurers and their egos..." But there's a faint smile on her lips as she watches us leave.
As we step back into the sunlight, Darius throws an arm around my shoulders, grinning ear to ear. "Alright, wolf boy," he says, "what's next on your big adventure?"
I shrug, adjusting the pouch at my side. "We'll see," I reply, my voice calm but resolute. "This was just the start."
"But now I need to go to the church," I say, brushing off Darius's hand as he tries to ruffle my hair again.
"Bye, Uncle Darius," I add, turning toward the door.
"That's it?" Darius asks, raising an eyebrow. "Where's the party for getting your first reward? You just earned your silver. Isn't this the part where you celebrate?"
I glance back at him, already halfway out the door. "Of course there's a party," I reply with a faint smirk. "At home. Mom will give you the best treats."
He stares at me for a moment before letting out a booming laugh, shaking his head. "Rascal," he mutters under his breath, the word carrying a mix of amusement and affection. He knows exactly what I mean—he's invited, but only if he shows up.
Without waiting for his reply, I step outside, pulling my cloak tighter around me. The warm sunlight bathes the village streets as I start heading toward the church.
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Before going to the church, there's one more thing I need to do.
Treats before taming. That's the rule. It's important to give a little before you take—especially when dealing with creatures. And today, my goal isn't just prayers or pleasantries.