Adlet arrived in front of the large gate he had passed through a month earlier, on the day he had left for his mission. The gate stood closed, yet a massive bell hung beside it, its purpose clear. It was the same system used on the walls of the Dark Woods, enabling Protectors to announce their return from missions.
Adlet rang the bell with a firm, resounding clang. The great gate creaked open just enough for him to slip through.
"Get inside, quickly!" a guard shouted through the narrow opening.
Adlet nodded and slipped through just as the gate slammed shut behind him with a heavy thud.
The courtyard beyond buzzed with unrest. Groups of Protectors were scattered across the stone square, voices low but urgent, hands cutting through the air as they spoke. Dust and smoke clung to the atmosphere, mixing with the sharp rhythm of boots against stone.
"I recognize you…" a voice called out.
Adlet turned toward the guard who had let him in.
"You were part of Baryon's group, right?"
Adlet gave a short nod.
"Good. That means you all made it back." The guard pointed toward the far end of the courtyard, where two familiar figures stood in conversation. "Your group's waiting over there."
Adlet's gaze swept across the crowd instead of moving right away.
"What's going on?" he asked.
The guard studied him for a second, then exhaled through his nose.
"You should already know—you were outside. A high-ranked Apex was heading straight for the city. Every Protector in the area was ordered to retreat here."
Adlet stiffened slightly.
"But don't worry," the man continued, lowering his voice. "Lord Sullyvan went out to deal with it personally. It should be settled soon enough. Now go—rejoin your group."
Adlet thanked him with a nod and made his way through the crowded courtyard, unhurried but alert. Eyes followed him as he passed, some curious, others wary.
When he reached Baryon and Daven, both looked up at him almost mechanically.
"You made it out too?" Baryon asked, a trace of surprise slipping into his voice before it quickly faded.
Adlet didn't answer.
Daven scoffed, crossing his arms.
"Well… at least you're good at running away."
Adlet's brow furrowed, but he said nothing. His thoughts were far from them, still lost in the forest's darkness.
"Florian said you got separated while fleeing. What happened to make you arrive so late?" Baryon pressed, his eyes sharp, as if probing for weakness.
"I had an… unfortunate encounter in the forest," Adlet replied, his tone cool but distant.
Baryon raised an eyebrow. "Facing a powerful Apex predatory Aura can shake anyone. But you'll need to get past that if you want to be a real Protector."
"Peasants like you really crap themselves over nothing. Go cry with your friend over there," Daven mocked, nodding toward a narrow alley leading away from the square.
Sitting alone on a low stone wall in the alley, Florian's hunched figure stood out, his head lowered, his posture defeated.
Without a word, Adlet turned away from his teammates, moving toward the alley. His steps were slow but steady, his mind still processing the weight of the past days. The world felt distant, like he was moving through it in a dream.
As he approached Florian, the boy didn't look up. His gaze remained fixed on the cobblestones beneath his feet.
"Surprised to see me?" Adlet asked, his voice surprisingly calm.
Florian's head snapped up, his face pale, eyes wide with shock. It was the first time Adlet had seen him so vulnerable, so stripped of his usual bravado. The emotions flooded Florian's face—relief, guilt, confusion—all twisting together in an almost painful mix.
"You… you're alive…" Florian stammered, his voice thick with emotion, tremors running through his words.
Adlet looked at him, feeling the tight knot in his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to feel pity. He had moved beyond that. "Yes, but not thanks to you," he said, his tone blunt, perhaps harsher than he intended.
"I'm sorry… I didn't know what to do… I was completely lost…" Florian's voice cracked, and tears began to fall, glistening in the dim light.
Adlet's gaze softened for just a moment, but his resolve didn't waver. He didn't want to feel sorry for him. He couldn't afford to. He wasn't sure why, but this was the point. This was the moment when things had to end.
Florian wiped his tears, his hands shaking. "I blamed myself so much for what I did… I thought you were dead because of me… Knowing you survived, it's such a relief…"
Adlet took a deep breath, his eyes hardening. He wasn't sure what he had expected from this encounter, but Florian's tears only deepened the bitter taste in his mouth.
Florian's gaze faltered as he spoke again, his voice quieter now, resigned. "I realized something out there... I'm not cut out to be a Protector. I never want to face that terror again. It's too much… I'll go back to my village, be with my family, and leave this behind." His voice was barely above a whisper, his shoulders slumped as though he had already given up.
Adlet's expression remained unchanged, but inside, something shifted. Florian's words hit a nerve, a painful reminder of the fragility of the dream they had both shared. For a moment, Adlet's chest tightened, but it passed as quickly as it had come. "That's probably for the best," Adlet said, his voice low, neutral. It didn't sound like he was speaking to Florian anymore. It was more like he was speaking to himself.
Florian nodded slowly, the weight of his decision heavy in the silence. "At least now I can move on, knowing you're safe…" His voice was small, lost.
Adlet turned away, cutting the conversation short. "Good for you. Safe trip back." The words felt hollow, but he didn't care.
As he walked away, leaving Florian behind, Adlet felt a strange emptiness settle in his chest. He didn't know if it was relief or something else. The boy he had trained with, fought beside, and trusted had betrayed him when it mattered most. And now, that bond was severed—no reconciliation, no catharsis. Just an unspoken end.
Adlet had learned an important lesson in that moment: not everyone was meant to walk the path of a Protector. The weight of this life was too great for some to bear, and Florian, for all his potential, had proved to be one of those people. It wasn't just the monster they had fought that broke him. It was the world itself—the endless terror, the constant danger, the relentless pressure. Not everyone could withstand it. And Adlet, despite his resolve, was beginning to wonder if he, too, might one day crumble under the weight of it all.
After leaving Florian behind, Adlet walked slowly toward the guild. The wind, dry and sharp, brushed against his skin, but he felt nothing. There was an emptiness inside him, a strange sensation that hadn't accompanied him until now. He had faced monsters, terrifying beasts, and yet it was human disappointment that left him feeling the most unsettled.
The city felt louder than it had a month ago. Laughter, whispers, hurried footsteps—all of it blended into a cacophony that seemed distant to him now. He moved through it all like an outsider, lost in the churn of a world that felt increasingly alien.
As he entered the guild, he saw Protectors engaged in conversation in the hall. One of them, a broad-shouldered man, looked up as Adlet passed by.
"Back already?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to see you without your friend."
Adlet's gaze didn't meet his. He simply nodded, giving a brief, emotionless response.
"I've got my own path now," he muttered, then moved past him before the conversation could continue.
Once in his room, he sank down onto the bed, the quiet of the room pressing in on him. His thoughts swirled, torn between what he had just left behind and what lay ahead. The betrayal was still fresh, its sting undeniable, but there was more to it—more than just what Florian had done. It was the weight of the world that he now felt bearing down on him. The realization that this path, the one he had chosen, wasn't for everyone. Some people were too fragile to handle it.
Adlet knew that he couldn't let himself slip into that category. He'd changed. His resolve had hardened, but so had the world around him. There was no place for weakness, no room for hesitation.
Adlet had a purpose. He was here for something bigger than himself, and the road ahead was far from simple. He had come too far to back down now. And there was the tournament.
The promotion tournament.
Adlet's mind flickered to the conversation he had overheard earlier. Rank 2. He was eligible to compete, to push himself further, to prove that he could be more than just a boy who had stumbled into this world. This was the next step.
Three weeks. That was all the time he had before it began.
He stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the sprawling city below. The capital was a place of ambition, a place where the strongest survived. He was going to make it.
Before he left for the tournament, he had to tell Baryon. He hadn't expected to be caught off guard by the conversation with the leader of his former group, but now he understood the weight of it. Baryon had already disbanded the team, leaving him with nothing but his own goals.
The next morning, he sought out Baryon in the East district. It didn't take long to find him. The Dryad family's estate was always buzzing with activity, a reflection of their noble status.
Baryon didn't even look up when Adlet arrived. He was sitting with a map spread out in front of him, talking with other officers in low tones. He only acknowledged Adlet's presence with a curt nod.
"I'm not interested in waiting around," Adlet said bluntly.
Baryon's gaze flicked over to him, a trace of annoyance creeping into his voice. "What do you mean?"
"I'm leaving," Adlet said, his voice firm, no hint of hesitation. "I've got my own plans. And I don't need your approval."
Baryon didn't respond right away. Instead, he just watched Adlet, as if deciding whether to say something or not. Finally, he shrugged and leaned back in his chair.
"Fine. Do what you will."
Adlet turned on his heel, but he could feel Baryon's eyes on him. It wasn't much—just a passing moment—but the finality of it settled deep within him. He had made his choice. There was no going back.
As he walked out into the square, the wind tugged at his hair, and for the first time since arriving back in the city, he felt the thrill of uncertainty. The capital, the tournament, the new challenge ahead—it was all there, waiting for him.
The road ahead was going to be long and hard, but that was exactly how he liked it. His next challenge was already taking shape.