The noise of the dining hall slowly returned.
Soft conversations filled the space, blending with the faint clinking of wooden bowls and spoons. It was a simple meal, as always—bread and thin soup—but after the intensity of the training ground, even this felt grounding.
Arin, Tomas, and Lyra sat together at the far end of the table.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Tomas leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes fixed on Arin with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
"It's been just over a week," Tomas said, breaking the silence. "Since you bought that ink… and those gloves."
He shook his head slightly.
"…What exactly did you do in that time?"
Lyra nodded beside him, her gaze sharp and searching.
"Yes," she added, "that wasn't just improvement. That was something else."
Arin didn't answer immediately.
He took a slow bite of bread, as if organizing his thoughts, then set it aside.
"I improved the gloves," Arin said calmly.
Tomas frowned.
"That's not an explanation," he replied.
Arin let out a small breath, then lifted his hands slightly, as if deciding there was no point in holding back.
"…I replicated the mana shield," he said.
For a second, neither of them reacted.
Then—
Tomas blinked.
"You what?" he said, almost laughing in disbelief.
Lyra leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"Wait… the same shield Varek used?"
Arin nodded once.
"Yes," he replied. "The same one."
He flexed his fingers slightly, the reinforced gloves catching the dim light.
"Both gloves have the structure embedded into them."
Lyra's expression sharpened further.
"How does that even work?" she asked.
Arin glanced at her, then explained, his tone steady and precise.
"If I bring both hands together and align the runes properly," he said, raising his hands slightly as if demonstrating, "I can generate twelve mana panels in front of me."
He paused briefly, letting that sink in.
"Six from each glove. It creates a full frontal barrier."
Tomas stared at him for a long moment.
"…That's insane," he said finally.
Lyra didn't speak immediately.
Her eyes were still on the gloves.
Then she asked quietly—
"…That kind of rune… you didn't know it before, did you?"
Arin shook his head.
"No."
A brief pause followed.
"Lord Sylvaris Theron showed it to me," Arin added. "The morning he came to the orphanage."
That caught both of them off guard.
Lyra straightened slightly.
"The scholar you mentioned before?"
Arin nodded.
"He explained the structure behind it," Arin continued. "Not everything… but enough."
His gaze dropped briefly to his hands.
"The rest, I had to figure out myself."
Tomas stared.
"…That's insane."
Arin leaned back slightly, resting his forearms on the table as he continued.
"I kept the electric shock," he said, his tone calm but deliberate. "But I refined it. The output is more controlled now… and I added projectile discharge as well."
Lyra nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing as she pieced it together.
"That explains the speed," Lyra said. "Those weren't like your earlier attacks."
Arin lifted one hand slightly.
A faint flicker of flame appeared in his palm—small, steady, and completely controlled.
Tomas froze mid-motion, his spoon hovering in the air.
"You added fire too?!" Tomas said, nearly dropping it.
Arin closed his fist, and the flame vanished instantly.
"It's utility," Arin replied simply. "Fire is always useful."
Lyra let out a quiet breath, shaking her head.
"…And the wall?" she asked, glancing at Tomas briefly. "You broke through that too easily."
Tomas nodded immediately.
"Yeah," he added. "That wasn't normal."
Arin leaned back a little more, his gaze lowering to the gloves.
"I modified the impact," he said.
Lyra tilted her head.
"How?"
Arin tapped the metal plating across his knuckles.
"I used the same principle as the mana bomb," he explained.
Both of them stared at him.
"Not with stones," Arin added calmly. "With my own mana."
He curled his fingers slightly, as if recalling the structure.
"The runes are embedded here, connected to the main circle. When I strike…" he paused briefly, choosing his words, "…a portion of my mana converts into force."
"No visible explosion," he continued. "Just an amplified impact."
Tomas blinked slowly, then leaned back in his chair.
"So basically…you punch harder than you're supposed to."
Arin gave a small nod.
"…Yes."
A brief silence followed.
Then Tomas shook his head and leaned back further.
"Yeah, no," Tomas said. "I'm not fighting you seriously anymore."
Lyra smirked immediately.
"Coward."
Tomas didn't even hesitate.
"Strategic retreat," he corrected.
Then his expression shifted slightly as he looked back at Arin.
"…And that movement?" Tomas asked. "The way you moved out there… that wasn't normal either."
Arin paused for a moment before answering.
"…Training," he said.
"I push my body until it breaks," he said calmly. "Then I recover."
Lyra frowned immediately.
"That sounds unhealthy," Lyra said.
Arin shook his head slightly.
"No," he replied. "It isn't."
He reached to his waist and unhooked the dagger.
The blade caught the dim light as he placed it gently on the table between them.
"Because of this," Arin continued.
Both Tomas and Lyra leaned in slightly.
Arin lifted the dagger again and tilted it toward a half-filled cup resting near Tomas.
A faint pulse of mana flowed from the blade.
A thin stream of clear liquid formed along its edge—pure, almost luminous.
It dripped slowly into the cup.
The water shimmered faintly.
Arin pushed the cup toward Tomas.
"For the shock earlier," Arin said. "It'll help."
Tomas looked at the cup, then at Arin.
"…You're serious?" Tomas asked.
Arin gave a small nod.
Tomas picked it up carefully, sniffed it once, then shrugged.
"If this kills me," he muttered, "I'm haunting you."
Lyra snorted.
"Drink it."
Tomas took a sip.
Then paused.
"…Okay," he said slowly, looking at the cup again. "That's… not normal."
Arin leaned back slightly.
"It accelerates recovery," he explained. "So I can train harder without long-term damage."
Lyra studied him quietly for a moment.
"…You've changed," she said.
Tomas nodded in agreement.
"Yeah," he added. "You've definitely become weird."
Arin didn't deny it.
He simply picked up his spoon again and continued eating.
The three of them sat in silence for a moment.
The noise of the dining hall carried on around them—soft conversations, the clinking of bowls, the quiet rhythm of a routine meal. But at their end of the table, something had shifted. The earlier tension from the training ground hadn't fully faded. It had simply… settled.
Tomas finished first.
He leaned back slightly, glancing toward Arin, then toward Lyra, as if weighing something in his mind.
"…Come on," Tomas said quietly.
He stood, not waiting for an answer.
Lyra followed after a brief pause.
Arin hesitated for just a moment—then rose as well.
The three of them stepped out of the dining hall and into the open corridor. From there, they moved toward the entrance, where the faint hum of Greyhaven drifted in from beyond the orphanage walls.
Distant voices.
Carts rolling over stone.
Life, moving forward.
They stopped near the doorway.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then—
Tomas broke the silence.
"…So," he said, folding his arms loosely, "you're leaving soon."
The words landed heavier out here than they had inside.
Arin didn't answer immediately.
His gaze drifted outward, past the gates, toward the city beyond.
"…Yeah," he said after a moment.
Lyra leaned lightly against the wooden frame, her eyes lowering briefly before she spoke.
"…Are you going to him?" she asked. "Lord Sylvaris Theron."
Arin exhaled softly.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Tomas frowned.
"You don't know?" he repeated. "Why not?"
Arin remained quiet for a second, as if choosing how much to say.
"…Because I didn't expect it," he said finally.
His voice was calm—but there was something deeper beneath it.
"I had other plans."
Lyra looked up slightly.
"What kind of plans?"
Arin's gaze remained fixed on the distance.
"I wanted to see this world," he said. "Travel. Take jobs. Become an adventurer."
A brief pause.
"And… find out what really happened to my parents."
That made both of them go still.
"I never thought I'd be given a choice like this," Arin added quietly. "Not this early."
Lyra straightened slightly.
"But think about it," she said. "If you go with him… you'll learn things no one else can teach you."
Her eyes flickered briefly toward his hands.
"Runes. Structure. Everything you've been trying to figure out on your own."
Arin nodded slowly.
"I know," he said.
His tone carried no denial.
"What I need right now…" he continued, "…the kind of knowledge I'm looking for… I'll only get it from someone like him."
Tomas stepped in, his voice more grounded.
"And he's a noble," Tomas added. "That matters."
Arin glanced at him.
Tomas continued.
"He'll have connections. Information. If there's anything to find about your parents… or your bloodline…"
He shrugged slightly.
"He's one of the few people who could actually help."
Silence settled again.
Not awkward.
Just… heavy with thought.
Arin looked back toward the city.
The distant noise of Greyhaven carried on, unchanged.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"…I'll figure it out," Arin said quietly.
He turned slightly, glancing at both of them.
"When I get there… I'll decide what comes next."
Tomas smirked faintly.
"Yeah," he said. "That sounds like you."
Lyra didn't smile.
But she nodded once.
"…Just don't take too long," she said.
Arin gave a small nod in return.
The wind moved softly through the trees behind them.
And beyond the orphanage walls—
The world waited.
Not just for Arin.
But for all of them.