Evening settled slowly over Greyhaven.
The noise of the city softened into a distant hum as lanterns flickered to life along the streets of the East Dock District. Inside the orphanage, the day had passed quietly—almost unusually so.
But Arin hadn't wasted it.
By the time the sun dipped low, he had already made up his mind.
"We need ink," he had said.
Tomas didn't question it at first.
That changed when Arin added—
"And we're going to the Guild Market."
————
Martha stood near the doorway, arms crossed.
Her gaze moved from Arin to Tomas and back again.
"The Guild Market?" she repeated.
There was a pause.
Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"That's not exactly a place for children to wander around."
Tomas shifted awkwardly.
Arin, however, remained calm.
"We'll be careful."
Martha didn't respond immediately.
She studied them.
The bruises.
The exhaustion that hadn't fully faded.
The quiet change in their posture.
Something in her expression softened—just a little.
"…Be back before dark," she said finally.
Then, almost as an afterthought—
"And don't do anything stupid."
Tomas let out a breath.
Arin gave a small nod.
——————-
The streets of Greyhaven grew busier the closer they moved toward the Guild Market.
The air changed.
Sharper.
Louder.
Filled with voices, trade, and the occasional clash of metal.
Tomas walked beside Arin, glancing around with curiosity.
"…This place feels different."
"It is," Arin replied.
They passed stalls selling monster parts, crude weapons, enchanted trinkets—things far beyond what the usual district markets offered.
Tomas slowed near one stall.
"Hey… that smells amazing."
Arin didn't even look.
"If you come with me a little further," he said calmly, "I'll get you something better."
Tomas blinked.
"…Better than that?"
Arin nodded.
"Meat skewers from the inner lane."
There was a pause.
"…You're bribing me, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Tomas grinned.
"Alright. Lead the way."
They reached a quieter section of the market.
Fewer stalls.
Higher quality goods.
Less shouting.
More precision.
Arin stopped at a merchant's table.
"Rune ink," he said.
The merchant glanced at him once, then reached beneath the counter.
A small bottle was placed on the table.
Transparent yet dense.
Faintly shimmering under the lantern light.
"Price?"
"One silver."
Tomas nearly choked.
"One silver?! For that tiny thing?"
Arin didn't react.
He simply placed the coin down.
"Paper as well."
The merchant nodded and added a small bundle.
Tomas stared at him.
"You just spent a silver like that?"
Arin ignored him.
Instead, his gaze shifted.
To another stall.
Gloves.
Not ordinary ones.
Leather.
Reinforced.
With small metallic plates across the knuckles.
He picked one up.
Tested the weight.
Closed his fist.
The metal plates aligned perfectly.
"…How much?"
"One silver and three bronze coins."
Tomas leaned in.
"Arin… maybe we—"
"I'll take it."
Coins changed hands.
They walked back through the market as the sky darkened.
Tomas held two skewers in hand, already halfway through one.
"…Okay," he said between bites, "worth it."
Arin said nothing.
His attention remained on the small bundle he carried.
Ink.
Paper.
Gloves.
Tools.
————-
Back in their room, the noise of the orphanage had settled.
Dinner would be soon.
For now, there was quiet.
Tomas stood near the chair, pulling out the gold coin he was rewarded."
The metal gleamed under the dim light.
For a moment—
He just stared at it.
A small smile formed on his face.
"…This still feels unreal."
Arin placed the items on his bed.
Carefully.
Almost methodically.
Tomas glanced over.
Then he picked up the small ink bottle.
"…I still don't get this."
He turned it in his hand.
"Why is this so expensive?"
Arin didn't answer immediately.
He sat down.
Then spoke calmly.
"It's not."
Tomas frowned.
"…What?"
Arin looked at the bottle.
"The way I see it… it's cheap."
Tomas blinked.
"That costs one silver."
Arin nodded slightly.
"We got two silver for killing a goblin."
Tomas paused.
Arin continued.
"As an adventurer if you sell the blood, the fangs and the magic stone core of a single goblin… it's around one silver."
His gaze remained steady.
"So this?"
He tapped the bottle lightly.
"This can create dozens of runes."
"Dozens of tools."
"Dozens of outcomes."
A brief pause.
"It's cheaper than fighting for your life every time."
Silence.
Tomas stared at him.
"…When did you start thinking like that?"
Arin didn't answer.
His fingers brushed lightly against the glove.
Tomas looked at Arin, turning the glove slowly in his hands.
The metal plating along the knuckles caught the dim light with each movement. He studied it longer than necessary, as if trying to understand something beyond its surface.
Then he glanced at Arin.
"I don't get it," Tomas said. "Why the glove again?"
Arin was already adjusting the straps around his wrist, testing the fit with quiet focus.
"Because I need it," Arin replied.
Tomas raised an eyebrow.
"For punching people?"
A faint pause.
"…Among other things," Arin said.
That earned him a look.
Tomas leaned forward slightly.
"Alright. Explain."
Arin finally looked at him.
"My old one is gone," he said. "Varek took it."
There was no emotion in his voice. Just fact.
"So I'm rebuilding it."
Tomas frowned.
"…Rebuilding?"
Arin nodded once.
"This time better."
He clenched his fist. The metal plates aligned neatly across his knuckles.
"I don't have proper control over my magic yet," he continued. "So I need something that compensates for that."
Tomas leaned back, thinking it through.
"So the glove is your shortcut."
Arin shook his head.
"No."
A brief pause.
"It's my foundation."
That sat differently.
Arin lowered his gaze to the glove again.
"I'll refine the lightning rune," he said.
Then, quieter—
"And this time… I won't stop there."
Tomas frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Arin looked up again.
"I'm adding more," he said. "More elements. I'll integrate additional elemental runes into it."
He flexed his fingers slightly.
"More structure."
A small pause.
"And a barrier."
Tomas straightened immediately.
"A barrier?"
Arin nodded.
"The mana shield Varek used."
Tomas stared at him.
"You can actually do that?"
Arin exhaled softly.
"Not yet."
Then he added—
"But this morning, Lord Sylvaris Theron came to see me."
That caught Tomas off guard.
Arin continued, calm but focused.
"While explaining the fundamentals of rune magic… he showed me the structure behind that shield."
His fingers tightened slightly around the glove.
"If I can replicate it properly… I should be able to use it."
Tomas didn't interrupt this time.
"That means I can fight at range," Arin said, "and protect myself up close."
Silence settled for a moment.
Tomas leaned back slowly.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "You've lost your mind."
Arin didn't argue.
Instead, he adjusted the glove once more and said—
"When it works…"
A faint smirk appeared.
"…be ready."
Tomas narrowed his eyes.
"For what?"
Arin met his gaze directly.
"For getting your ass kicked in the training ground."
There was a pause.
Then Tomas snorted.
"Dream on."
A grin spread across his face.
"That's not happening in a hundred years."