The next morning, Lancer stretched and yawned, his muscles sore from the previous day's events. The soft glow of morning light seeped through the small window, casting warmth into the room. However, his moment of peace shattered as a sound reached his ears—a faint rustling from the other side of the room.
He froze, turning his head toward the source of the noise.
What he saw made him blink in surprise.
It was the chief's daughter from the night before. She stood by the chair, holding his jacket in her hands. Her fingers brushed over the fabric, inspecting it with a mix of curiosity and caution. She seemed so engrossed in whatever she was thinking that she didn't even notice he was awake.
"Uh... Umm..." Lancer managed, his voice breaking the quiet.
The girl gasped softly, her head snapping toward him. She jumped a little, clutching the jacket against her chest before hurriedly setting it down on the chair. "I'm so sorry!" she said quickly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to go through your things—I was just... curious."
Lancer rubbed the back of his neck, unsure how to respond. "It's fine. Really. You and your dad let me stay the night—it's the least I owe you."
She relaxed slightly, offering him a small, sheepish smile. "Father asked me to come and tell you that breakfast is ready. He's waiting downstairs."
Lancer swung his legs off the bed, standing and stretching again. "Alright. Thanks. I'll be down in a minute."
As she turned to leave, he hesitated. "Wait."
She paused in the doorway, glancing back at him with a questioning look.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The faintest smile curved her lips. "Selene," she said simply, before stepping out and closing the door behind her.
Lancer sat at the wooden table, savoring the breakfast in front of him. It was, predictably, another serving of roasted meat. He wasn't sure what animal it came from, but it tasted closer to beef than anything else he'd tried so far, and he wasn't about to complain. It was hot, filling, and exactly what he needed after the chaos of the day before.
Across the table, Nero leaned back in his chair, watching Lancer with a thoughtful expression. The chief's large hands rested on the table, his presence as imposing as ever, even when he was relaxed.
"You're currently on the eastern point of the continent of Polaris," Nero said, his deep voice breaking the quiet. "This village—town, really—is called Ionia. Not much, but it's home."
Lancer nodded as Nero spoke, trying to take it all in. He kept chewing, unsure how to respond.
After a moment, Nero tilted his head, studying him. "So, are you maybe a hunter? An adventurer?"
Lancer shook his head, swallowing quickly before answering. "No, nothing like that."
Nero scratched his chin, his brow furrowed in thought. "Hmm... strange. Do you at least know your magic type?"
Lancer blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Magic type? Uh, no... I don't think I have one."
The chief's frown deepened. "Everyone has magic," he said firmly. "It's just a matter of finding out what kind. You'll need to figure that out as soon as possible if you're staying here."
He turned to Selene, who sat quietly beside him, sipping from a wooden cup. "Take him to the guild. They'll help determine what magic he has."
Selene nodded, setting her cup down. "Yes, Father."
Not long after, the two of them were walking through the winding paths of Ionia. The village was lively despite its modest size, with people bustling about, tending to stalls and carrying goods. The buildings were made of sturdy wood and stone, their roofs sloping sharply to withstand harsh weather.
As they walked, Lancer's curiosity got the better of him. "So... what kind of place is Ionia? Like, what do people here do?"
Selene glanced at him, her pace steady. "Most of us are farmers, traders, or craftsmen. We're far from the capital, so we rely on each other to get by. It's simple, but it works."
Lancer nodded, processing her words. "And, uh, what about you? What do you do?"
She gave him a sideways glance. "I help my father with the village's affairs. And sometimes I assist at the guild."
Lancer hesitated before asking, "And... what's the guild exactly?"
"It's where adventurers and magic users gather," she explained. "They take on quests, train, and learn to control their abilities. It's also where you'll find out what your magic is."
Lancer nodded again, though his mind spun with questions. After a brief pause, Selene turned the tables on him. "What about you? Where are you from?"
He hesitated. "It's... really far away. And very different from here."
Selene smiled faintly. "I could tell. Your clothes are strange. No one here wears anything like that."
Lancer glanced down at his jeans and hoodie, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I guess they are."
Before he could dwell on it further, Selene pointed ahead. "Oh, we're here."
Lancer followed her gaze to a large building with a sign hanging above the door. The sign was adorned with intricate carvings and strange letters that looked nothing like the alphabet he knew.
His heart sank as the realization hit him. Wait. I can't read the language here!
Inside the guild, the air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink. Behind the counter, a girl was bent over a stack of papers, her brows furrowed in intense concentration. Her focus was so sharp that Lancer immediately felt a little intimidated, the stern expression on her face making him hesitate.
But as soon as she noticed Selene, her demeanor changed entirely. A bright smile lit up her face, and she greeted Selene warmly. "Selene! What are you doing here? I thought you weren't helping out until tomorrow."
Selene gestured toward Lancer, her expression calm. "He doesn't know his magic type."
The girl—Livia, Selene had called her—raised an eyebrow and shifted her gaze to Lancer, her smile faltering. "Really? At his age?"
She moved out from behind the counter, walking briskly over to him. Before Lancer could react, she was uncomfortably close, scrutinizing him with an intensity that made him want to shrink away. Her eyes darted over his clothes, her curiosity unmistakable. "Where are you from?"
Lancer froze, unsure how to answer. His mind raced, and his throat felt dry. The proximity of this undeniably pretty girl wasn't helping.
Selene stepped in smoothly, saving him. "He's lost," she explained. "Doesn't remember where his home is."
Livia straightened, her expression shifting to one of mild curiosity. "How strange," she muttered before turning and walking back behind the counter. From a nearby shelf, she retrieved a small bottle filled with a strange black liquid and an old, slightly crumpled scroll.
"What's that?" Lancer asked, watching her set them down on the counter.
Livia smirked, her serious expression returning. "You really don't know anything, huh?" She held up the bottle. "This is a special ink used to determine magic types. It reacts to the essence of the user's magic. Simple enough."
She gestured toward a chair across from her. "Sit."
Lancer hesitated for a moment before complying. Livia took his hand without ceremony, her grip surprisingly firm. She uncorked the bottle and dipped his thumb into the dark liquid.
"Hold still," she said, pressing his ink-stained thumb onto the scroll in a deliberate motion.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the scroll began to glow, the ink spreading outward in intricate patterns. The light intensified, shifting into a vivid, bright blue.
Both Selene and Livia leaned in slightly, their expressions unreadable. Lancer, still trying to process what was happening, asked, "What does that mean?"