The faint, golden light of dawn began to creep over the rooftops of Velin as Kaito stepped carefully through the quiet village. The air was crisp and cool, the cobblestones slick with dew. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, glancing back to make sure no one was watching. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few groggy merchants setting up their stalls.
He paused in the shadow of an overhanging roof, clutching the small, smooth stone in his hand. Its surface was warm against his palm, the faintly glowing runes etched into it pulsing gently, like a heartbeat. The stone wasn't just a key—it was a tether to his old world, a bridge between the life he'd left behind and this strange, fantastical land.
He hadn't told anyone about it, not even Sylvia. This was his secret, one he wasn't ready to share. Not yet.
Kaito took a deep breath, steadying himself. Then, gripping the stone tightly, he focused.
The air in front of him shimmered, and with a soft hum, a door began to form. It was the same as the one that had first appeared in his apartment: ornate and wooden, with swirling carvings that seemed to shift and dance in the dim light.
He glanced around one last time before reaching for the handle. The door creaked open, revealing the familiar interior of his small Tokyo apartment.
The sudden shift from the vibrant, earthy smells of Velin to the sterile scent of his apartment was jarring. Kaito stepped inside, his boots clinking faintly on the hardwood floor. Everything was exactly as he'd left it: the cluttered countertop, the unwashed dishes in the sink, and the faint glow of the city skyline visible through the window.
For a moment, he just stood there, letting the familiarity of it all wash over him. It felt surreal, like he was caught between two different lives.
But there wasn't time to dwell on it. Kaito quickly moved through the apartment, gathering what he needed.
He started in the kitchen, his domain, his sanctuary. Pulling open drawers, he sifted through utensils and tools. His chef's knife was the first thing he grabbed, sliding it into a leather sheath and tucking it securely into his bag. He added a whetstone for sharpening, a small but sturdy cutting board, and a set of measuring spoons.
From the cupboard, he took a few jars of spices: coarse sea salt, black pepper, and a small container of dried chili flakes. These were basics, the foundation of any dish, and he wasn't sure if he'd find equivalents in Velin.
Next, he opened the pantry. Most of the ingredients were perishable and useless now, but he grabbed a bag of rice, a small tin of green tea, and a bottle of soy sauce. The sight of the familiar labels made his chest tighten briefly with a pang of homesickness, but he pushed it aside.
Finally, he pulled out a compact camping stove and a few spare fuel canisters from a cabinet under the sink. He had bought them years ago for a hiking trip that never happened. Now, they seemed like a godsend.
Kaito moved to his bedroom next, grabbing a sturdy backpack from the closet. He packed a few changes of clothes—simple, durable items—and his thickest jacket, just in case the weather in Velin turned.
On a whim, he reached for a photo frame on his nightstand. It held an old picture of his parents, smiling warmly at the camera. He hesitated, then carefully tucked it into the bag.
As he zipped the bag closed, Kaito's gaze fell on the cluttered desk near the window. His laptop sat there, its screen dark and lifeless, surrounded by a pile of unopened mail and crumpled receipts. It felt so… disconnected from everything he'd experienced in Velin.
For a moment, he wondered if he should leave it all behind. The thought was tempting, but a part of him knew better. This apartment, this life—it was still a part of him, even if it felt like a distant memory now.
With a soft sigh, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and walked back to the door.
Standing in front of the swirling carvings once more, Kaito took a final look around his apartment. He didn't know when—or if—he would return, but he felt no sadness. If anything, he felt a sense of clarity.
The stone in his hand pulsed warmly, as if urging him forward. With one last deep breath, he stepped through the door and back into Velin.
The cool morning air greeted him as he emerged into the quiet alley where he had first opened the door. The sounds of the waking village drifted faintly in the distance, but no one was nearby. Kaito closed the door behind him, and with a soft hum, it faded into the air, leaving no trace of its existence.
He adjusted the straps of his backpack and straightened his cloak. The weight of the supplies on his back was reassuring, a tangible reminder that he was more prepared now.
As he walked toward the eastern gate to meet Sylvia, he felt a growing sense of purpose. This world was strange and unpredictable, but he wasn't powerless. He had his skills, his tools, and now, the resolve to make something of himself here.
Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on.
Kaito emerged from the quiet alleyway, adjusting the straps of his backpack to sit more comfortably on his shoulders. The morning in Velin was coming alive. The faint orange hue of dawn bathed the village in a soft glow, and the sounds of merchants opening their stalls and carts creaking over cobblestones filled the air. A few villagers passed him by, their faces lined with curiosity as they glanced at him. He nodded politely, keeping his head down and his pace steady.
The eastern gate wasn't far, but Kaito made sure to stick to less populated paths. The weight of his secret gnawed at him—a tether to a world no one here knew existed. He wasn't ready to share that part of himself, not even with Sylvia. She was sharp, capable, and dangerous in her own way. Trusting her was a leap he wasn't ready to take.
When he finally arrived at the eastern gate, Sylvia was already there, leaning against a wooden post with her arms crossed. Her silver hair caught the morning light, and her emerald eyes scanned the horizon as if searching for threats that hadn't yet appeared. She wore a light leather vest over a dark tunic, her bow slung across her back, and her boots were dusted with the dirt of countless roads traveled.
"You're late," she said without looking at him.
Kaito checked the position of the sun and frowned. "Barely," he replied, adjusting the hood of his cloak. "You've got high standards for punctuality."
Sylvia turned her gaze to him, her sharp eyes flicking to the bulging backpack on his shoulders. "And you've got a lot of baggage," she remarked. "What's in there?"
"Just some things I might need," Kaito said evenly, unwilling to elaborate.
She raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, she straightened up and gestured to the road ahead, where a small caravan of wagons was forming. A mix of merchants, guards, and travelers were busy loading crates, securing ropes, and double-checking their gear.
"This is the caravan," Sylvia said. "They're heading to Lysmar, the trade city. It's a good place to make connections if you're serious about starting something here."
Kaito nodded, his eyes scanning the caravan. Most of the people looked seasoned—men and women hardened by travel and experience. He felt out of place but reminded himself that everyone had to start somewhere.
"Stick close to me," Sylvia added. "The road can be dangerous. Bandits, wild beasts, even the occasional rogue mage. You're useful, but you don't look like much of a fighter."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Kaito muttered, though he couldn't argue with her assessment. He didn't have her skill with a bow or the intimidating presence of the guards. All he had were his cooking tools and the faint hope that they would be enough.
The caravan began to move shortly after sunrise, the wagons creaking as they rolled along the dirt road. Kaito walked alongside Sylvia near the middle of the group, his eyes darting to the trees that flanked the path. The thick forest loomed on either side, its shadows deep and unwelcoming.
"First time traveling like this?" Sylvia asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," Kaito admitted. "Feels… different. Not like the streets of Velin."
"It's not," she said simply. "Out here, you have to be prepared for anything. Stay alert."
Kaito nodded, tightening his grip on the straps of his backpack. He could feel the comforting weight of his chef's knife inside, but he hoped he wouldn't need to use it for anything other than cooking.
As the hours passed, the group settled into a steady rhythm. The guards kept watch, their hands never straying far from their weapons, while the merchants exchanged quiet chatter about their wares and plans for Lysmar. Kaito listened without contributing, observing the group dynamics and taking mental notes.
When the caravan stopped for a midday break, Kaito saw his opportunity. He approached one of the merchants, a portly man unloading a crate of dried meats and hardtack from his wagon.
"Excuse me," Kaito said, drawing the man's attention. "Do you mind if I borrow a small corner of your fire to cook something? I'll share the food in return."
The merchant eyed him skeptically. "What's a traveler like you cooking out here?"
Kaito opened his pack and pulled out a bundle of griffboar medallions he'd purchased the day before. "I'll show you," he said with a confident smile.
The merchant shrugged. "Fine, but don't burn anything. And if it's terrible, you owe me."
Kaito worked quickly, setting up his small camping stove and preparing the griffboar medallions with the precision of someone who knew his craft. He sprinkled them with the salt and pepper he'd brought from his apartment, then added a pinch of fire pepper flakes for heat. As the medallions sizzled on the pan, their rich aroma began to fill the air.
A small crowd gathered as he worked, their curiosity piqued. Even Sylvia wandered over, her arms crossed as she watched him with an amused expression.
"What are you making this time?" she asked.
"Something simple," Kaito said, flipping the medallions. "Griffboar steaks with a glaze made from sundew herbs and a touch of emberfruit wine."
The glaze bubbled in the pan, caramelizing around the meat and creating a rich, glossy finish. Kaito plated the medallions on a wooden tray, garnishing them with fresh sundew leaves for a pop of color.
He handed the first plate to the skeptical merchant, who took a tentative bite. The man's eyes widened, and he let out an involuntary groan of delight.
"This… this is incredible!" he exclaimed, drawing murmurs of interest from the others.
Sylvia stepped forward and took a piece for herself, her sharp eyes narrowing as she chewed. "You've got a knack for this," she admitted, though her tone remained neutral. "But don't get cocky. There's more to surviving out here than impressing a few merchants."
Kaito smirked. "I'll take what I can get."
As more people stepped forward to sample his food, Kaito felt a spark of pride. For the first time, he wasn't just an outsider. He was a contributor, someone who could offer something valuable to this world.
The road ahead was still uncertain, but for now, Kaito knew he had taken a step in the right direction. And with Sylvia's sharp gaze watching over him and his skills to guide him, he felt ready to face whatever came next.