Rai finished her meal slowly, as if the spoon weighed more than her hand could bear. Fatigue had settled into her eyes—not only in her movements, but in her silence as well. She wiped her lips with the edge of a napkin, then rose without another word and climbed the wooden stairs with weary steps.
When she gently pushed the door open, she found Aren asleep in his bed. His face was calm—unusually so. His breathing was steady, his features free from the constant tension that followed him while awake.
She paused beside the bed for a moment, then whispered with a faint smile:
"He looks like a little kid when he's sleeping… heh."
"I should sleep too… Tomorrow will be long, and I'll need every bit of my strength."
She lay down on the opposite bed, and the moment her eyes closed, sleep swallowed her—as if it had only been waiting.
But in the other bed…
Aren's sleep was not as peaceful as it seemed.
He found himself in a space completely white.
No ground.
No sky.
No shadow.
Just endless white stretching into infinity.
He was floating… weightless, as if his very existence had become an idea rather than matter.
He slowly opened his eyes.
"Where… am I?"
He heard nothing. No echo. No air to carry his voice.
Then he felt it.
Pressure.
As if the void itself had grown heavier.
From deep within the whiteness… thin golden lines began to form—like cracks in reality itself. They gathered slowly. Twisted. Condensed.
Until they became… a gigantic hand.
Golden.
Not metal. Not pure light. Something in between. It pulsed with strange symbols carved across its surface, shifting as though alive.
It moved toward him.
The closer it came, the more Aren felt his heart being pulled from his chest.
Not just fear… but the sensation of being watched for a very long time.
"Who are you…?"
No answer.
The hand surrounded him.
It did not touch him… yet it held him.
In that instant, the distance between them collapsed, and his mind flooded with incomprehensible voices—words in a language he had never known, yet they made his blood tremble.
Then—
Darkness.
Aren jolted awake.
He sat upright in bed, breathing unevenly, cold sweat clinging to his forehead.
"Hah… just a nightmare… a strange one."
He placed a hand over his chest.
His heart was still pounding.
But—
For a single fleeting moment—
He swore he felt a faint warmth on his shoulder, as though something had truly touched him.
He shook his head quickly, as if to dispel the thought.
Sunlight slipped through the window and brushed his face with a soft warmth. Real warmth. Different from the cold gold of the dream.
He took a deep breath.
"A new morning… no need to overthink it."
He smiled without realizing and rose to wash his face.
Downstairs, the inn buzzed with life.
The scent of fresh bread mixed with coffee, and the soft clatter of utensils echoed behind the counter.
He found Rai sitting with Sasha, laughing about something.
Rai raised her hand the moment she saw him.
"Aren! Over here!"
He approached and sat down.
"How was your night?" Rai asked with a smile.
"Good… I think."
Sasha leaned in, a mysterious smile playing on her lips as her gaze examined him more than necessary.
"Glad you rested. You should explore the city today. You arrived late and exhausted last night… but now there's no excuse."
"Ah… yeah. You're right."
He glanced at Rai.
"And you? When are we heading out?"
Before she could answer, Sasha interrupted lightly.
"Rai will stay with me for a while. We have things to take care of. You can go alone, can't you? You don't need someone with you to enjoy yourself."
Aren hesitated.
"Uh… yeah… I can."
But inside:
What if I get lost? What if I end up in trouble? I don't know anything about this city…
He cleared his throat to hide his unease.
"Will you be okay alone?" Rai asked softly.
He forced a smile.
"Yeah. Don't worry. I won't go far."
He stepped outside.
Morning in the city felt entirely different from its night.
The streets were paved with gray stones still gleaming from the dawn's dew. Vendors called out their goods, children ran between alleys, wooden carts rolled slowly past.
Colorful fabrics hung from balconies, shop fronts stood wide open.
The air carried the scent of polished metal from the blacksmith district, and wildflowers from the central plaza.
In the distance, steel clashed against steel in a training yard.
Aren felt a spark of excitement.
"This… really is a different world."
But—
His gaze suddenly froze.
In the corner of the street, before a massive weapon shop decorated with crossed swords and spears…
Stood that elf.
The same one.
Sharp features. Pale skin. Long ears emerging from beneath silver hair.
He wasn't alone.
Three other elves stood beside him, wearing dark robes embroidered with faint green patterns.
But the strange part—
The silent elf wasn't speaking.
He was watching.
Not the weapons.
Aren.
Their eyes met.
And in that instant—
Aren felt something eerily similar to his dream.
A faint pressure against his chest.
As though an invisible thread stretched between them.
The elf did not smile.
Did not move.
But one of the other elves leaned close and whispered something into his ear.
Only then did the silver-haired elf murmur a short word—too quiet for Aren to hear.
Then all of them turned and entered the weapon shop.
The door remained half open.
As if… waiting.
Aren swallowed.
"Why do I feel like this isn't a coincidence?"
Deep inside him, the echo of golden symbols from his dream stirred.
For the first time since waking—
He wasn't sure it had only been a nightmare.
And he took one step toward the weapon shop.
Back at the inn…
Morning light filtered through the high windows in golden streaks, cutting through drifting dust. The clink of spoons, scraping chairs, distant laughter… the scent of warm bread and cinnamon.
Rai leaned against the table, silently watching the movement.
"You seem different this morning," Sasha remarked, wiping a glass.
"Different?"
"Less hostile. Yesterday you looked ready to cut off anyone's head if they got too close."
Rai smirked faintly.
"That's just how I am."
"No," Sasha chuckled softly. "That's not your nature. You just don't trust easily."
Rai didn't answer—but she didn't deny it.
Sasha set the glass aside and sat across from her this time.
"Tell me… you and Aren. How long have you known each other?"
"Not very long."
"He seems comfortable around you."
"He's stubborn. And stupid sometimes. But… he's honest."
Sasha smiled.
"I saw the way he looks at you."
Rai stiffened slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"Not what you think. I mean trust. Like he believes you'll never fall."
Silence.
"That's why I'm afraid," Rai said quietly.
"Because you don't want to disappoint that look?"
"Because I don't want to be the reason he falls."
Sasha's smile softened.
"So you protect him… in your own way."
"Maybe."
A pause.
"Rai… have you heard about the tournament?"
"What tournament?"
Sasha's smile turned enigmatic.
"A week from now, the Lord of Rotana will host an open combat event… to select fighters for a special army serving the Kingdom of Khazad."
Rai's hand stilled.
"A special army?"
"Yes. A direct order from the royal capital. From the king himself."
Her voice lowered slightly at the mention of the capital.
"The Lord of Rotana will oversee it personally. Those who prove themselves… may be summoned to the capital. Privileges. Elite training. Perhaps even rank."
Rai's eyes narrowed.
"Why now?"
"The eastern borders are unstable. There are rumors of unusual movements in the north. Khazad does not build an army without reason. When the kingdom begins gathering strength… something is being prepared."
Silence.
"Is it open to anyone?" Rai asked seriously.
"Yes. Anyone with combat ability can register. But…"
She smiled.
"Not everyone will walk out unharmed."
They exchanged a quiet look.
"And Aren?" Sasha asked suddenly.
Rai tensed.
"What about him?"
"Do you think he should participate?"
"No."
The answer came instantly.
"Why?"
"He's still stabilizing his mana. He hasn't mastered its full flow. His power… is unstable."
Sasha leaned closer.
"And do you think stability comes from sitting in a room?"
Rai didn't answer.
"Rai… Aren's power isn't normal. Even you noticed during training. Reaching the second pattern so quickly. Mana density beyond his stage. That's not natural."
Rai clenched her fist.
"That's why I'm afraid for him."
"Then let me ask you something…"
Sasha's voice softened.
"What's more dangerous? Entering a monitored arena with rules… or facing real danger someday without ever testing his limits?"
Silence.
"He won't grow if he's always behind you," Sasha added quietly.
Rai lifted her gaze slowly.
"…Maybe you're right."
She exhaled.
"Yes. Even if he fails, it'll matter. It'll sharpen him. I'll be there to watch."
"Wise decision," Sasha smiled faintly.
Then murmured inwardly:
Even if he fails?… We'll see.
"And you, Sasha?" Rai asked suddenly. "Won't you participate?"
Sasha burst into laughter.
"Me? Hahaha! I'm just a waitress. That tournament will be filled with powerful fighters… I can barely carry a tray without dropping it."
Silence fell.
Cups clinked. Footsteps passed.
But something in the air shifted.
"Something isn't normal about this city," Rai said slowly.
Sasha's hand stopped moving.
She didn't look up immediately.
Then…
She smiled.
"Of course it isn't."
This time, the smile wasn't warm.
It was calm. Steady. Deliberate.
"Because Rotana… doesn't choose who enters it by coincidence."
Rai's heart skipped.
"What do you mean?"
Sasha lifted her eyes slowly.
For a fleeting second—
Her pupils glinted with a strange color.
Not brown.
Not human.
Then everything returned to normal.
"It means the city attracts those it needs. That's all."
But Rai barely heard her.
"Attracts… those it needs?"
"Yes."
Then Sasha added slowly—like dropping a stone into a deep well:
"And some who will join the tournament… didn't come to win."
Silence.
Even the inn's noise felt distant.
"Then… why?" Rai asked.
Sasha's smile was small.
"For a certain person."
Rai's eyes widened.
"A person?"
Sasha turned her head slowly—
Toward the open inn door.
Toward the street.
Toward the direction Aren had taken.
"We'll see."
Outside—
At that very moment—
Aren stood before the weapon shop…
And the silent elf turned toward him slowly…
As if their meeting—
Had never been coincidence either.