Vale, once a respected enforcer of the Elven Court, had abandoned her title and cause. Years of enforcing neutrality, manipulating outcomes under the guise of "balance," and watching meaningless wars unfold drove her to disappear into Caligurn's depths as a rogue adventurer.
She now survives as a blade-for-hire, dealing with leyline bandits and beastborn plagues, avoiding the growing political tension.
Then, she notices it.
A dimensional noise. Not loud—but constant. Like static threaded through the song of the world.
Wherever the noise goes, she follows, creating a path that directs her towards something
Eventually, she pinpoints the source: a boy, sitting alone near a broken ley-pillar, touching mana like he's trying to remember how it works.
She doesn't approach him.
Not at first.
Instead, she stalks him for days through cities, slums, and valleys. He's strange. Kind but cautious. He helps others and speaks to himself as if lecturing ghosts. Sometimes he stares at the sky for hours.
But more than anything, his mana fights the world.
That only happens when something crosses over from another realm without a proper vessel. Summoned demons rot over time because they don't belong. But this boy—he's not degrading. He's like he is from this world and isn't at the same time
That's impossible.
So, Vale makes a decision.
She won't turn him in.
She'll take him into the forest—Caligurn's lawless, mana-twisted edge—and see what he is.
(The night deepened. Trees whispered as the breeze shifted again, cool and damp with the scent of coming rain. Sparks from the fire trailed upward and vanished into the dark.)
Vale's gaze lingered on him a moment longer before turning to the fire. She didn't push. Not yet. But Jozay could feel the tension tightening behind her calm—like a bowstring drawn but not loosed.
She wasn't just suspicious now.
She was curious.
And curiosity in someone like Vale was dangerous.
The storm came quietly in the early morning—drizzles at first, barely touching the canopy. But by sunrise, a cold curtain of rain swept through the forest, soaking earth and bone alike. They moved through the downpour wrapped in cloaks of silence and steam, the world muffled, the skies grey.
Vale woke up in the morning, throughout the whole night Jozay has been doing nothing but trying to understand the pattern of aero mana and how it works, essentially wanting to become better at it.
"You didn't sleep throughout the night?" Vale asked out of tender curiosity, even though she was visibly inactive, Vale was wide awake
"No," he answered, barely moving. "Didn't need to."
She raised a brow. "That's a lie. Everyone needs sleep. Even gods dream eventually."
Jozay glanced at his palm, then slowly raised it toward the falling rain. A pulse of mana flared, almost invisible—but the air shifted.
The raindrops bent midair and circled him in a perfect arc. Not deflected. Redirected.
Vale's eyes narrowed. "Is that… a barrier?"
"No," he said. "Something like that, but not quite."
[Jozay - Internal Monologue]
I have been treating wind like a hammer. Push it. Pull it. Slam it forward.
But the wind doesn't move that way.
It curves. It coils. It wants to dance, not obey.
You can't command it. You have to understand it.
He rotated his index finger slowly. A faint spiral formed—a tight coil of pressurized wind.
Vale crossed her arms. "So what, now you're a wind whisperer?"
Jozay shrugged. "Something like that."
He snapped his fingers.
The spiral burst into a pulse of teal mana, pushing moisture and sound outward in a soft shockwave. A dome of dry silence surrounded them. For a moment, the rain simply… avoided them.
A small ding echoed softly inside his mind.
[Skill Acquired – Aero Mana Control (Intermediate)]
You've entered harmony with airborne mana through pattern memorization and emotional resonance.
Passive effects: Reduced mana cost on wind-based spells. Improved control of air pressure and resistance to storm effects.
Unlock Path: Advanced Flight Techniques – 0.3%
[Hidden Trait Unlocked – Mana Perception: Air]
You now instinctively feel atmospheric mana patterns.
Instability, corruption, and leyline distortions will be revealed with proximity.
Vale blinked. "Okay… I take it back. That's not just some party trick."
Jozay let out a quiet breath. "Wasn't doing it for praise."
She rolled her eyes. "Of course you weren't. You're allergic to compliments."
[Jozay - Internal Monologue]
She doesn't get it. This isn't about skill. It's memory.
This rhythm. This exact discipline. I've felt it before.
Not with wind… but with blood.
He clenched his fist.
In another life… I hunted people like this. Watched them move. Listened to their breath. Studied their patterns.
And when I struck… the world went quiet.
They called me Arbiter back then. I wasn't a hero.
Before I became a scientist and used my genius for something else entirely.
The rain returned slowly as his dome faded. The trees exhaled with the storm, and Vale stepped closer, eyeing him.
Jozay didn't move.
He just stared into the rain, like it might answer for him.
I always thought aero mana was far more useful than pyro, pyro's only use is active destruction, and you could argue a boost in physical prowess like speed and strength, but that's it. I don't know, but to be honest, they might be more, and I could try to work on it, but it would be better to work on and study something far easier, which is aero mana.
"We had to stay up all night while still being under the surveillance of Vale's magic detection. Her detection skills aren't all-powerful; she only senses disturbances and something with killing intent, but it's the fact that this works all the time, whether she's sleeping or not, because I can currently see the magic is still active, so why couldn't I sense it before?"
"Quite obvious, our mana detection was horrible at the start. But the more we got used to mana, the more we got better at noticing its flow, its density, and even the subtle shifts in the air when it gathers. Eventually, what was once invisible became as clear as seeing footprints in fresh snow — 気 (ki), the vital energy itself, finally revealed to our senses."
"Useful info, but why couldn't others notice it? pretty sure if everyone could just get used to mana, they can sense her detection."
"No. That's not because you improved. I am your seventh sense. What you're noticing now — the weave of her detection, the pressure of her mana — it's me guiding you to it. The others can't sense it, no matter how much they train. They don't have me."
"Elias, would you mind if we leave this wildwood now?", Vale asked for confirmation. "We have things to do and we won't achieve it here in a forest, filled with nothing but beasts and poisons."
"Yeah, I have no business here. Where are we going from here?"
"Capital city Valcaryon, This is where adventurers are given ranks, money, and shelter. The city is lacking in the number of adventurers available", Vale said eagerly.
Vale turned away from the rain-blurred trees and adjusted the blade strapped across her back.
"We'll follow the east leystream," she said, voice low, focused. "Three days on foot if the bridge over Palegrove still stands. Valcaryon's the closest city with a functioning adventurer's guild—and the only one desperate enough to let unknowns register without a background check."
Jozay stood, brushing mud from his boots. "So… that's it? We just walk in, take some tests, and get badges?"
Vale gave him a sidelong look. "You think this world hands power to anyone with a badge?"
"No," Jozay replied. "But they hand power to people who know how to fake one."
She almost smirked. Almost.
"You're learning."
The rain had eased into a lazy mist, clinging to every leaf and vine. Vale walked ahead, silent as ever, her senses locked on the terrain.
Jozay trailed behind, watching the soft pulses of mana flicker through the trees. Each one felt like a breath. A note in a melody he was still learning.
The mist was starting to clear. Just barely. Each droplet still clung to the trees like stubborn regrets. We'd been walking for a while, not saying much, which was fine by me. I was busy trying to figure out why the wind in this region whistled in three tones instead of two.
You know—the usual existential puzzle-solving.
Then Vale broke the silence.
"I was with the Elven Court, you know?"
Huh. That's new.
Wait... Is this her opening up? Am I getting emotionally recruited?
I glanced sideways. "You don't talk about that."
Vale shrugged. "Didn't think you'd care."
"Didn't think you'd share."
Touché.
She kept walking, her hood pulled low. "Back then, I thought I was doing the right thing. The Elven Court enforces neutrality, or at least, that's what they brand it as. We prevented wars, mediated between nations. Big, fancy stuff."
"So… what exactly is the Elven Court?
I remember Sylvaine saying she was once part of it. Sounded important, but she didn't say much else."
Vale:
"Hah… figures she'd mention it in passing like it was just another chore."
[Sighs, then kicks a rock aside.]
"The Elven Court? It's not some council of tree-huggers with fancy robes, if that's what you're imagining."
[Jozay - Internal Monologue]
I wasn't.
...Okay, I kind of was.
Vale:
"It's an ancient order — old as most continents.
Supposedly formed to 'preserve balance' in the world… but if you ask me, they lost sight of that somewhere between their seventh prophecy and their ninety-ninth classified war."
[She glances up at the drifting canopy, frowning.]
"They interfere in mortal conflicts only when they think the outcome will screw with the mana cycle. Otherwise? They just… observe. Watch. Let people die if the math says it'll stabilize the world later."
Jozay:
"So they're… arbiters of fate?"
Vale:
"No, they think they are.
In reality, they're glorified meddlers.
Powerful, sure. But not infallible."
[Her voice softens, just a little.]
"…But 師匠—Sylvaine—she was different."
She said that word like it hurt to say it.
Vale (continuing):
"She didn't just follow the Court's will — she questioned it.
She was their strongest mage, you know?
They called her The Codex of Mana. Could rewrite spells mid-cast, bend raw ley currents like threads through a needle."
Jozay:
"Sounds terrifying."
Vale:
"Terrifying doesn't even scratch it. 師匠 once collapsed an entire siege by reversing the gravity of a fortress.
She could erase curses, alter the flow of time within localized areas…
And still had the nerve to say, 'I'm just a researcher.'"
[Small, almost nostalgic chuckle.]
Jozay:
"She left the Court though. Why?"
Vale:
"Same reason I did.
Because watching kingdoms burn while waiting for a prophecy to self-correct eventually breaks you.
We were enforcers of balance, sure… but the cost? Always too damn high."
[She pauses, as if remembering something bitter.]
"I left quietly. 師匠... didn't. She tore down half their archives and walked away."
...Of course she did.
Vale:
"Anyway.
The Elven Court is still out there. Watching.
They don't like loose ends.
And they sure as hell don't like Master's name floating around unaccounted for."
Jozay:
"…So if I'm with her, I'm a target."
Vale:
[Tilts her head thoughtfully.]
"Not yet.
But keep leveling up like you did with that wind spell back there?
Yeah.
They'll start watching.
And when they do, they don't stop. They are obsessed with the concept of neutrality."
"Damn, I do need to get stronger. Because if people as major as an entire court target me right now, I am not at all certain I will make it out safe and sound." Jozay says worriedly.
"Yeah, I am working a bit on something, so I will have to go MIA for like, a week or so." Elias hurriedly pointed out.
"Buddy, you sure you're alright?"
"Yeah, I am. Just deal with everything on your own for a week, hoping you don't bump into something that does require my assistance to get out of that mess."
"Haha, I hope so too."
She sighed like someone who'd spent too long reading government documents. As she continues on to her story
"Turns out 'neutrality' just meant making sure the wrong side never won too hard. Or too fast."
Yikes. Classic 'neutral overlords with a god complex' behavior. Seen that one before.
Note to self: Elven Court = shady with sparkles.
"I left after a… disagreement," she said.
"What kind?"
"The kind where I stabbed their peace envoy."
Oh. That kind.
"Very diplomatic," I muttered.
"Right? They even promoted me after. Offered me a seat at the High Table." She snorted. "Said I could 'fix the system from within.'"
"…And?"
"I told them to eat my sword."
Aaaaand that explains why she's camping in a haunted forest full of leyline anomalies.
"You came to Caligurn to hide?" I asked.
Vale gave me a side glance. "To disappear. I figured this place would chew me up and spit me out quietly. Fight a few monsters, sleep in ditches, die in a cave. Very poetic."
"So what changed?"
"You."
Oh no. Don't like where this is going.
"You show up," she continued, "weird mana signature, broken memories, spells that ignore half the known laws of elemental logic, and no real sense of survival instinct. You don't belong here… but the world's bending around you. That's not normal."
I scratched the back of my head. "I get that a lot."
She stopped walking and turned to face me. "I don't think you're just some wandering lost boy."
System Notification:
[Warning: Conspiracy Flag Raised – Passive Detection Unlocked]
"I think the world's invested something in you," she said. "Like it dropped a coin into your slot and now it's waiting to see what prize pops out."
Oof. Metaphor stings a bit when it's true.
I looked away, trying to keep my expression blank.
If she knew what I used to be… what I've done... Arbiter wasn't a name. It was a sentence. A sentence I gave to others. And myself.
"Anyway," she added with a shrug, "you remind me of who I was before the Court turned me into their little balance-obsessed puppet. So…"
I blinked. "So?"
She pointed ahead. "Next town's a day away. We'll rest at a guild outpost, then head for Valcaryon. You'll need proper ranking papers before you start rewriting the rules of magic or whatever it is you plan to do."
"Oh. Great. Bureaucracy. My favorite."
She grinned. "Don't worry. I'll lie for you."
[The city's richer district shimmered with enchantments. Polished obsidian bricks. Street lamps humming with bluefire. Mana-bound chariots whirred by like arrogant beetles. And then, standing like a jewel amidst it all — the Lotusglass.]
Jozay - Internal Monologue:
Okay, this place is definitely not priced in "survivor-of-the-week" coins.
I think I just saw a goblin valet wearing silk gloves.
...That's concerning on too many levels.
Vale (casually, like she's picking between apples):
"This should do."
Jozay:
"Wait, this resort? With chandeliers? And a doorman wearing more mana sigils than I've seen on actual knights?"
Vale:
"You wanted a clean bed. I want not to die of disgust. Meet in the middle."
[The receptionist, a dryad with crystalline bark and floating ledger runes, looked up as they entered.]
Receptionist (smiling politely):
"Welcome to Lotusglass Resort and Spa. Do you have a reservation?"
Vale (already producing a shimmering Ɱ Valeron platinum card rune):
"One suite. Two rooms. Sitting area. Balcony view. Add private spa access."
Jozay - Internal Monologue:
What in the rich elf fantasy is happening right now?
Receptionist (bowing):
"Of course, Lady…?"
Vale:
"Vale is fine. Put it under Shishō's tab if there's any clerical confusion."
Receptionist:
"Understood. That's 4,200Ɱ per night. Will you be staying more than one?"
Vale:
"Three nights. And do not put us on the side with the screaming water elementals again."
Jozay - Internal Monologue:
Three nights!? That's… hold on…
Quick mental math
4,200Ɱ = roughly 920ℨ Zels
= 1,200ɐ Glints
= more than I've spent in my entire second life
I could afford it — Sylvaine gave me enough during the Leyline Transfer to get by… but if I pay that, I'll have to start eating fire crystals for breakfast.
Receptionist (floating two ornate, mana-bound room keys toward them):
"Room 703. Your private attendant, Marion, will be along shortly. Spa access is located on the fourth floor. Meals are delivered per enchantment preference."
Vale (grabbing her key):
"Come on. Let's go enjoy being alive and not in a cave."
Jozay (muttering):
"…You're casually rich, aren't you?"
Vale (smirking):
"I'm casually elven. We don't do poverty. We politely let it exist around us."
Jozay - Internal Monologue:
That explains a lot, actually.
The door swung open with a faint chime. Magical ventilation adjusted instantly to their mana signatures, washing the suite with a breeze scented like crushed mint and something floral Jozay couldn't name.
The place was ridiculous.
Two large bedrooms, marble-floor sitting room with a ley-infused fireplace, floating crystal lights, a soundproof spa chamber with adjustable mana jets, and — he swore he wasn't hallucinating — a small mana field that folded his boots and placed them gently by the door.
"Gods," Jozay muttered under his breath. "Even my mana feels poor in here."
Vale stepped in casually like she owned the place. Which, judging by the clerk's deep bow earlier, she might as well have. She tossed her cloak on the mana-hanger rack and dropped onto the plush couch with a satisfied sigh.
"You settling in alright?" she asked, legs crossed, one eyebrow raised.
Jozay was still staring at the glowing fruit bowl on the counter. It refilled itself.
"...You used to this kind of treatment?" she asked, half-smirking now.
Jozay blinked. "No," he said truthfully, "not even close."
That part was true — this world's version of luxury was exaggerated in all the best ways. But—
[Jozay – Internal Monologue]
Not even close?
…That's a lie.
Back then, money wasn't a ceiling. I had crypto accounts with eight-figure balances. I spent $10,000 in a single afternoon like it was grocery change.
Flights, servers, investments, weapons… all just tabs in a browser. I even had a server farm in Iceland for AI simulations.
And yet, nobody should know that. Not here.
Not in this world.
Not where wealth comes with eyes sharper than daggers.
Still… Vale's pockets might be deeper than mine ever were. Elves. Of course.
Vale popped a grape into her mouth and tilted her head. "You're being weirdly quiet. Resort too fancy for you?"
Jozay shrugged. "Maybe. Or I'm just budgeting my awe."
She chuckled, "Cute. Too bad it's wasted. This place costs more than most adventurers make in a season."
"Then why book it?"
"Because comfort is a currency too." She winked. "And I'm a dragon when it comes to hoarding both."
[Jozay – Internal Monologue]
Tch. I need to get rich again.
Rich enough to make booking a place like this feel like buying a coffee.
No more depending on elf sugar mamas or goddess pocket change.
Crypto doesn't exist here… but alchemy? Leyline trade? Artifact markets?
Yeah. I'll find my way. Maybe this time, I'll build something real.
"Want to eat?" Vale asked.
The floating menu shimmered above the table, displaying dishes in elegant, glowing script. Roasted phoenix quail with fire-pepper glaze. Moon-kissed sylphroot salad. A pitcher of starwine that refilled itself every thirty seconds.
Jozay poked at the projection. "This thing's interactive?"
Vale leaned back, swirling her drink. "Order whatever. The tab is bottomless."
"Right. Because you're just… casually funding our luxury vacation?"
"Take this as an I.O.U. Make sure to pay back when you have the funds." Vale smirked. "Also, this isn't a vacation. It's reconnaissance."
"Then I would like the steak and
Dinner was a quiet symphony of gentle string music, softly glowing candles, and steam rising from magically seared steak cutlets served with emberfruit glaze. The table floated slightly off the ground, anchored by a runic sigil that pulsed with steady, warm mana.
Jozay didn't touch his food at first. He was still getting used to the idea that the steak could hum if overcooked.
Vale was already halfway through hers.
"You're either suspicious of the food," she said between bites, "or mentally calculating your financial collapse."
Jozay sighed and picked up his utensils. "Can't it be both?"
She grinned, sipping from a glass of duskberry wine. "You're cute when you're financially anxious."
He stabbed a cutlet. "You're terrifying when you're relaxed."
That made her laugh — an easy, unguarded sound.
They ate in silence for a while, the kind that only existed between two people who'd already decided not to kill each other.
Then Vale wiped her mouth and leaned forward, resting her chin on her knuckles.
"Three days from now," she said, "I'm taking you to Ignarith."
Jozay blinked. "That… a place or a fire spell I should be dodging?"
She rolled her eyes. "A place. One of the Five Mana Nations. Home of the strongest pyro-users in the world. You'd like it — everything there is intense, beautiful, and on fire."
He stared. "That's not selling it."
She smirked. "They hold a tournament every two years during the Emberwake Festival. Anyone can participate. Winner gets honored by the Emperor of the Alivon Empire."
"An entire continent's emperor?"
"Yup."
"…That sounds like political trouble."
"Exactly. That's why it's fun."
Ignarith, huh…
Pyro mana was my first, and I am still getting used to the concept of it. Volatile, powerful, loud. Not like wind, which bends and flows. Pyro mana erupts.
So if I should go there to fight others who have been long since using pyro mana I would need my ghost assistant, but unfortunately, he went MIA on me. This means I have to probably cheat using aero mana too. The dissection method that I came up with would prove useful In these cataclysmic situations
That's the kind of place someone like me should avoid. But with no options to backout, I have to do this.
So naturally, we're going there.
Jozay took a sip of chilled water. "And I'm guessing I don't have a say in this?"
Vale tilted her head. "You do. But you'll say yes because you're curious. Because you want to test yourself. And…"
She pointed her fork at him. "Because I'm paying."
Jozay sighed. "Elves."
"Correct."
I'm not ready for a public tournament. Not when I still don't know who or what I am.
But if the Emperor's watching… and if I want to make a name for myself…
Maybe this is the perfect stage.
Jozay finally leaned back, satisfied.
"Alright," he said. "Three days."
Vale clinked her glass against his. "That's the spirit. Oh—and don't worry about the journey."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why does that sound like a setup?"
She grinned wickedly. "We're using Spatios transport—portal stones maintained by the Central Mage Coalition. You'll love it. Or puke. Maybe both."
During supper, Jozay was eating and finding the food's contents superfluous; it contained wonders he had never seen in his old world, while he ignored the entire ignarith situation. The dinner plates sat cleared on the table — roast sunbird, glazed forest pears, and bread that somehow sparkled slightly when torn (Jozay still wasn't sure if that was a spell or seasoning).
Vale leaned back in her chair, swirling her wineglass lazily.
"I'll be heading out soon after now," she said, eyes fixed on the liquid. "Got something to handle."
Jozay glanced up from his tea. "Something with that look on your face isn't just 'something.'"
Vale exhaled through her nose. "This place… Valcaryon. It used to be home. Before I became rogue. Before the politics and the Court and all the other layered flavors of nonsense."
Jozay set his cup down gently. "I can tag along. Y'know… be your emotionally distant support system."
That earned him a dry look.
"Tempting," she said, lips quirking. "But it's personal. Not exactly tourist-friendly. And besides…"
She stood, stretched, then flicked his forehead with an elegant snap of her finger.
"…You're not a kid. You can explore by yourself, right? Try not to trip over a market cart or accidentally get married."
"I make one joke about elven customs, and now I'm a walking hazard?"
"Exactly," she said with a grin.
Jozay rolled his eyes but chuckled anyway. "Fine. I'll wander around like a clueless foreigner and try not to get cursed."
"Good." Vale walked toward the door, then paused. "Also… if a pink-haired merchant offers you 'blessed luck coins' in exchange for a single drop of your blood, just say no."
"Wait, what?"
"Trust me."
The door closes.
Silence.
Jozay looked out the window, where the lights of Valcaryon pulsed like breathing stars. Now, he'd be on his own.
Just for the day.
She says it's personal.
Which means it's probably painful.
Whatever she's dealing with… I won't push.
Still… I hope she comes back smiling.
The city buzzed beyond the tall stone walls of District Aurelia, but here — on the quiet end of a sun-washed lane lined with skyglass lanterns — everything was still.
Vale stood before the wooden gate of a modest elven townhouse. The paint had chipped. The garden was overgrown. But the rune-carved windchimes still hung above the porch, spinning softly with each breeze.
Her hand hesitated on the gate latch.
So many years.
So many silent birthdays.
So many unsent letters.
She opened the gate.
Inside, the house smelled of lavender resin and memory. Sunlight poured in through round-pane windows, and the air hummed with low, familiar magic — the kind only a mother would cast to keep warmth inside and rot away.
"...Vale?"
A voice. Gentle. Awed.
Her younger brother, Eranis, stepped in from the hallway. Taller now. Leaner. His face held echoes of their father — soft-eyed, tired from years of helping.
"You—" His voice caught. "You're really here."
"I said I would return one day." Vale offered a small smile. "Sorry it took so long."
He didn't move right away. Then he crossed the room and hugged her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder.
"You missed so much," he murmured.
"I know," she whispered. "I missed everything."
Another voice, older, steadier, carried from the kitchen.
"Don't just stand in the hall, child," their mother called. "Bring her in before the tea gets cold."
Vale stepped into the hearthlight and saw her.
Aging but strong. Hair now silver at the temples. Her hands trembled only slightly as she poured tea from a porcelain kettle wrapped in fireweed cloth.
The widow of a war general. The one who stayed behind.
"I kept your father's chair," her mother said quietly. "And yours."
The table was simple. The plates mismatched. The food humble — oatbread, syruped roots, a soft stew bubbling in the hearth.
No guards. No politics. Just family.
Vale took a seat. Her chair creaked like it remembered her weight. The silence stretched.
Then:
"I'm sorry I didn't write," she said. "The Court wasn't what we thought it would be. I tried to change things. I failed. And then I ran."
"You came back," her mother replied, gently placing a hand over Vale's. "That matters more."
The tea steamed between them. Her brother told stories about neighbors, his new job as a leyline engineer, and how the city changed. Her mother laughed at a joke, Vale didn't remember being funny.
And when the candlelight dimmed and they sat together in the quiet again, Vale let herself breathe.
She didn't cry. But her hand trembled once under the table.
Her mother noticed.
Squeezed it.
"You don't have to be strong here," she said. "Just be my daughter."
Vale then held the hands of her mother tightly, her mother says she can open up as much as she wants.
(break scene)
The hearth fire had shrunk to glowing coals, and outside, the light rain tapping against the roof had mellowed into a soft drizzle.
Inside, the warmth of tea, quiet laughter, and fading tension wrapped the small room like a woven blanket.
Eranis leaned back in his chair, laughing at Vale's impression of a pompous human noble they'd once met during her days as an enforcer. Their mother chuckled too, pressing a napkin to her lips as she fought not to spit out her tea.
"'Sir Vaelstrom the Fourth, Defender of Tanglewood and Owner of 73 Hounds,'" Vale said in a deep voice, puffing her cheeks. "'May the sun rise only when I give it leave.' Gods, his hair looked like it was begging to retire."
Eranis choked on his drink, nearly tipping his cup. "And you kept a straight face the entire time?!"
"No," Vale grinned. "I was nearly court-martialed for bursting out laughing when he asked if elves 'tasted like bark.'"
Even her mother had to pause at that. "Oh, Ancients preserve us," she muttered. "Humans."
The laughter died down, lingering like perfume in the air. For a while, there was only the quiet clink of cups and the sound of the wind teasing the shutters.
Then Vale's expression shifted.
Softened.
She stared into her cup for a long moment before speaking again, voice lower this time. "I needed this. Just… being here. Laughing. Remembering how to be me."
Her mother watched her. "You say that like you're leaving again."
"I am."
The silence folded back into the room like an old friend.
"I don't belong here anymore, Mama. My freedom right now… It's temporary." She tapped the side of her cup. "I broke too many rules walking away from the Court. I burned bridges that were meant to last centuries. The only reason no one's chasing me is because they still remember the last time they tried."
Eranis frowned, the warmth draining from his face. "But you said you didn't want to go back."
"I don't. I won't. But people like me don't get to just vanish quietly." Her voice didn't shake, but it wavered like light on rippling water. "Eventually, someone's going to call in a debt. And I'll have to answer."
Her mother reached over again, slower this time, and touched her hand. "When that happens… will you at least have someone beside you?"
Vale exhaled. Smiled faintly. "Funny you ask. I might."
Her mother raised a brow. "Someone important?"
Vale looked down at her cup again, swirling the last of her tea. "His name's Elias. Strange kid. Human. Looks harmless enough—quiet, lean, no real sense of social grace. But then he does something utterly absurd, like redirecting rainfall with pure willpower or casually diagnosing mana collapse while stirring soup."
Eranis smirked. "So, the usual type you attract."
"You have no idea," Vale said with a shake of her head. "He's got a mind that never sleeps and a soul that doesn't quite fit into this world. Like someone taught him too much and not enough, all at once. The kind of person who asks questions no one else even dares think of."
Her mother tilted her head. "And what is he to you?"
"A friend," Vale said. "And a gamble."
Eranis blinked. "What kind of gamble?"
"The kind with no backup plan," she said flatly. "If Elias adapts to war, if he steps into this world with both feet… he'll be a force. The most promising beginner I've seen in decades, maybe ever. He sees mana like it's language, not power. Understands it like breath."
Her fingers traced the rim of her cup.
"But if he's mistreated—if the wrong people get to him, if the world chips at him the way it did me—" she paused. "He could end up being the worst thing to happen to us since the Great Schism and cracking of the ley lines in the west, or worse, the second coming of the Sorithen."
The fire crackled. Her mother and brother exchanged a glance.
"You trust him?" her mother asked gently.
"I trust what I see in him," Vale replied. "But I also know how fast people like him break. How genius can turn to wrath. How power, once cornered, lashes out."
Eranis leaned forward slightly, arms on the table. "You sound like you care about him."
Vale hesitated. "I do. But not like that. He's… more like a walking question. One I can't stop chasing."
Her mother leaned back, folding her hands in her lap. "Then perhaps what he needs most is someone to believe in the answer."
Vale chuckled softly. "He's not the kind that wants worship. Barely takes compliments. The only person he seems to argue with is himself."
Her brother gave a mock gasp. "You've adopted a stray philosopher."
"Don't tempt me," Vale smirked. "He's already got all the tragic monologues of a cursed poet."
Her mother smiled. "Well then. If he matters that much… bring him next time. Let us meet the boy who made Vale laugh again."
Vale didn't answer immediately.
But her smile lingered long after the fire dimmed, and in the quiet space of that old room, a part of her — her-the broken, weary part—stitched together just a little more.
The door clicked softly behind Vale as she left at dawn, her steps fading down the marble corridor of the resort.
Jozay lay back on the plush sofa, arms sprawled over velvet cushions, staring blankly at the ceiling's ornate fresco: a dramatic battle between firebirds and storm serpents done in shimmering ether-paint.
"…You're really not gonna say anything?" he asked aloud.
Silence.
He waited.
Still nothing.
Jozay sat up, furrowing his brows. "Elias?"
No response.
Normally, the soul-bound voice in his head—his unwanted cohabitant-slash-mentor-slash-critic—would've said something by now. A sarcastic jab. A lecture about posture. A sigh of disappointment.
But now?
Jozay felt... alone.
Not alone like "I'm in a room by myself." Alone like "My internal smartass GPS has unplugged itself and gone off-grid."
He waved his hand in front of his face, then focused inward, trying to sense the presence nestled within his soul. Still there, faintly. But Elias was deep, buried in some internal realm, like a server running calculations at max load.
"Is he meditating? Hibernating? Dead?" Jozay muttered.
Then paused.
"…Can souls even die again?"
He shook his head. "Forget it."
He stood, dusted off his robes—which had been magically fluffed and perfume-scented by the resort's morning attendants (he still wasn't sure how they got in)—and stretched.
"Well, I've got a free day. No babysitter, no inner narrator. Might as well cause a little chaos."
🏛️ City of Valcaryon: Capital of Luxury and Uncomfortable Shoes
As Jozay stepped out into the bustling capital of Valcaryon, he was instantly assaulted by the overwhelming scent of incense, imported flowers, and what he could only describe as "smug money."
The streets gleamed—literally gleamed. The cobblestones shimmered faintly with mana-polished sheen, and the passing carriages looked like mobile jewelry boxes. People didn't just walk—they glided. Every noble, aristocrat, and merchant heir looked like they'd just come from a high-budget opera with too much gold and not enough fabric.
A noblewoman passed him wearing what looked like a hat made entirely of floating glass butterflies.
Jozay blinked. "...Okay, so that's happening."
Another pair of twins in identical pearl-crusted coats rode past him on hover-discs shaped like swans.
And worst of all?
Everyone was beautiful.
"I swear to the heavens," Jozay muttered, "if one more perfect jawline walks past me, I'm going to set fire to my own eyebrows just to stand out."
🍰 Scene: "This Pastry Costs HOW Much?"
Eventually, curiosity and the scent of sweet things drew Jozay to a charming, polished bakery labeled in florid cursive:
"Le Château du Fluff"
He walked in, only to be greeted by gold-trimmed shelves and glass cases filled with desserts so delicate they looked sentient.
There was a single pink macaroon in a crystal box labeled:
"Rose-Flavored Memory of Moonlight – ɐ950"
"Nine hundred and fifty glints?" Jozay coughed. "That's like—half a sword and two cows!"
The elf attendant behind the counter gave a soft bow. "Would sir prefer something more... provincial?"
"Provincial? No, no, I was just—" Jozay narrowed his eyes. "Wait. Did you just insult me with pastry terminology?"
He backed out slowly, resisting the urge to steal a free sample.
"Exploration Is Expensive"
He tried a few more places:
A pet shop selling singing cats.A boutique that offered "Mana-Tailored" clothes that adjusted to your mood (he tried one; it turned black and depressing immediately).A spa that had a sign saying:
"Silence your chakra with imported sea mud – only ɐ12,000!"
(He just stared and walked away.)
Eventually, he plopped down on a bench in front of a fountain shaped like a mermaid marrying a unicorn.
"I don't belong here," he sighed.
Just then, a pigeon landed next to him wearing a tiny jewel-encrusted collar.
"Not even the birds are normal," he muttered.
This place reeks of gold and empty smiles.
It's all shine, no soul.
Elias would've had a thousand things to say about this city, how mana wealth skews social structure, how economics and magic are strangled by greed. He probably would've picked apart three political flaws by the time I reached the bakery.
But now… silence.
And weirdly, I miss him.
Jozay stood, stretching again.
He still had money. A stupid amount, thanks to Sylvaine's "I expect you to survive" envelope full of Glints.
But using it in this city felt wrong, like watering a dead plant.
He glanced at the horizon, where the spires of Valcaryon glinted in the sun.
"…Three more days," he whispered. "Then we leave for Ignarith."
He took one last look at the gleaming city of pride and silk… and walked off toward the nearest alley market.
"Time to find a snack that doesn't cost a down payment on a mansion."
Jozay stood by the balcony of their luxurious suite, staring out over the sprawling capital of Valcaryon — all smooth marble streets, golden archways, and plazas blooming with enchanted flora. Even the pigeons here wore little mana-threaded tags. What the hell kind of place was this?
He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Guess I'm the protagonist of a wallet-crisis arc now."
With Vale off doing her mysterious personal stuff and Elias still radio silent (probably running a metaphysical Linux update in the background), Jozay decided it was time to explore. He had pockets full of money—technically—but Vale's warning about spending it too quickly still echoed in his mind like a haunted receipt.
"If you blow it all on fancy cake and enchanted boots, don't come crying to me."
"Whatever," Jozay muttered, slipping on his black travel cloak. "Just browsing."
It was like walking into an architectural fever dream. Everything was polished to a mirror sheen. Floating gondolas drifted across mana streams instead of streets. People didn't just walk — they glided. Jozay got bumped once by a rich kid's enchanted hoverboard and was pretty sure the board apologized.
He wandered through:
A mana jewelry shop where rings whispered the name of your soulmate (but cost Ɱ2,500).A bakery where cakes literally exploded into edible butterflies. The sign said: "Only nobles above C-rank may enter with dignity." He entered anyway and was promptly stared at until he left.A tailor shop that asked him what trauma he wanted his outfit to express before offering fashion advice. ("Uhhh…social anxiety?" "Perfect, sir. Velvet it is.")
And the best part?
Everything was wildly, obscenely overpriced.
Back home, I could drop 10 to 50 grand a day without blinking. Crypto wallet fat, nerves calm. But this? I'm afraid to ask how much this mana-infused feather costs. It's glowing. That's never a good sign.
Also, why is everything shaped like a swan? Is this the national bird or just a nobles-only inside joke?
He finally sat at an outdoor café, where the waiter approached him with a too-bright smile and an accent so thick it might've been a spell in itself.
"Good morning, sir! Would you like to start with a taste of our ether-drenched croissant dipped in Leviathan milk?"
"How much?"
"Only Ɱ70."
"For a croissant?! What's it dipped in, the hopes of extinct dragons?!"
As Jozay nibbled on his precious, overpriced mana-spiced peanuts — the only thing he could afford without selling a kidney or dignity — he leaned back in his café seat, sighing dramatically. Around him, well-dressed nobles sipped levitating tea and discussed topics like "mana tax reform" and "how peasant-chic was in this season."
Behind a nearby hedge of magically trimmed hedgerose, an elderly elf noble whispered to his younger companion, just loud enough for Jozay's ears to catch:
"That boy there…he must be a fallen noble pretending to be poor for the experience. It's very fashionable these days."
Jozay didn't even look their way. Still chewing, he raised a single finger toward the sky, as if addressing the gods.
"I wish," he said, through a mouthful of peanuts.
"But alas, I am simply broke... in high definition."
The elder noble gasped.
"Did he just—did he hear us?"
The younger one blinked. "Did he just... quote theater?"
Jozay stood up, dusted imaginary crumbs off his not-even-that-dusty cloak, and added:
"If any of you fashionable, rich types want to sponsor a mysterious, charming wanderer with tragic backstory energy, I'm available Tuesdays and Thursdays."
Then he walked away slowly…only to realize he went the wrong direction and awkwardly turned back around.
As Jozay turned the corner of the lavish street, still mentally recovering from the humiliation of his "wrong exit with flair," a soft chime echoed in his head like a polite bellhop with dramatic timing.
System Notification
Skill Unlocked: [Social Engineering – Improvised Nobility]
Effect: +15% Persuasion vs. Elites
Description:
Your ability to lie with class has unlocked the noble art of sounding important.
The world now believes your poor fashion is "avant-garde."
Nobles are 15% more likely to offer you things you can't afford.
Warning: Use this skill too often and people might actually knight you.
Jozay blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then slowly turned to look at his reflection in a polished shop window.
"...Did I just get a passive buff for being a broke fraud?"
He narrowed his eyes at his own reflection and whispered:
"I've lied before… but never with flavor."
Suddenly, a wealthy woman passing by with a tiny flying dog paused and said, "Oh my! I adore your tragic aesthetic. So... mysterious. So distressed. Tell me, which House are you from?"
Without missing a beat, Jozay smiled like a man born into a castle made of stolen gold.
"House… of Ash. Old bloodline. Burned estate. Great trauma. Very recent."
The noble gasped. "How devastatingly poetic!"
[Passive Skill – Improvised Nobility: Success Chance +15% — Success]
She handed him a gold-trimmed mananapkin with her house crest.
"If you ever need a patron, darling, House Vaelora supports tortured youth."
Jozay waved gently as she left, his face unreadable.
As soon as she was out of earshot, he slumped against a wall and muttered:
"What the hell just happened. This world's economy is flawed."
He looked up to the heavens, half-crying, half-laughing.
"Sylvaine gave me money to survive, and now I might just seduce my way into an estate. I need help. I need Elias. Where is that freaky soul guy when I need him?!"
There was no response.
"Alright. Enough nonsense. I need to get back to the suite before Vale thinks I joined a cult."
He straightened his shirt, adjusted the enchanted collar pin Vale had shoved into his hand "just in case you look too poor", and started retracing his steps like the methodical, hyper-observant former prodigy he was.
Left at the crooked archway.
Right past the floating bakery sign.
Over the polished marble bridge with the glowing koi underneath.
"Perfect. I've got this place mapped in my head like a tactical raid. Let's go."
Five minutes later.
"Wait."
He stopped.
Looked around.
The cobblestones were different.
The lamp posts were taller.
And there was now a very large golden statue of a man riding a battle-goose that absolutely wasn't here before.
"Nope. Nope. That goose has judgmental eyes. This is not the route."
Jozay turned back and tried again, mentally re-scanning his mental map. He passed a familiar merchant stall, except now it was selling levitating cheese.
"That was a potion that stood 20 minutes ago. What the hell is happening?"
He paused. Looked up.
A subtle shimmer floated in the air above the rooftops—thin, like heat haze, except it sang if you listened closely.
"...Spatial distortion?"
[Mana Perception: Air] pulsed softly.
The wind was off. It was looping in a circular pattern, spiraling down from above like a lazy tornado made of smug mana.
"Of course. City enchantments. This district shifts terrain every few hours to confuse would-be thieves. That's adorable. And deeply inconvenient."
He sat on a bench.
"Okay Jozay, think. What would Elias do?"
There was no answer.
"Cool. Glad we had this talk."
A pause.
what if I explore 67% more of the Noble District to trigger a static anchor point?
"No. Shut up. I'm going back. I have dinner in an hour, and I'm pretty sure I smell like mana-cheese."
Suddenly, a small child ran up to him, pointed at his coat, and shouted:
"Mom! Look! Another fancy hobo!"
"I'm not—"
sigh
"...Y'know what. I'm just gonna follow the goose statue until the world makes sense again."
And with that, Jozay trudged off, accidentally noble, slightly lost, and deeply committed to pretending he wasn't panicking.
Jozay finally found a shaded bench near a softly humming ley-lantern and plopped down with an exhausted sigh. He stared up at the twinkling magic lights woven into the city sky, rubbing his temples like an old scholar who just survived a lecture on quantum basket weaving.
Then the air shimmered beside him.
And Elias—well, the presence of Elias—surfaced gently, like a sigh carried on the wind.
"You look like you lost a fight to a tea party."
Jozay didn't even jump. He just let his head fall sideways against the back of the bench with a dramatic groan.
"You have no idea…"
"I do. I was watching you panic from the backseat like a ghost in a clown car."
Jozay let out a small laugh and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Then why'd you leave me hanging?"
Elias hesitated.
"…I wasn't ignoring you. I've been… syncing with you. Enhancing our link. I noticed your spatial reasoning improving through trial, so I forced a merge. A bit of your instincts, my memory, and ley-awareness. That's why I surfaced."
"Wait, so you made me a skill? That's… new."
"Not really. It's more like I gave your growing intuition the structure it needed. You earned it."
[Passive Ability Created: Spatial Cognition (Adaptive Mapping)]
Crafted by shared soul-link integration. Your mind can now visualize terrain even when it shifts, twists, or deceives. You can adapt to unfamiliar ground faster and remain calm under magical disorientation.
Jozay blinked. Then gave a quiet smile. A real one.
"Thanks, Elias… That actually means a lot."
"Don't mention it. You were genuinely spiraling. I think a bird tried to guide you earlier?"
"That was an owl statue that glowed every time I walked past the wrong alley."
"…So a magical lamp gaslit you."
"I thought it was fate!" Jozay flailed slightly. "And then—AND THEN—I got catcalled by pastry. Not people, pastry. I panicked and waved at a noble, and now there's a rumor going around that I'm some 'wandering foreign prince'."
Elias didn't respond for a few seconds.
Then—
"You absolute menace."
"In my defense, I leaned into it. Even got a system pop-up."
[Social Engineering Skill Unlocked – "Improvised Nobility" – +15% Persuasion vs. Elites]
Elias wheezed in the soul dimension.
"You really turned a navigation crisis into a charisma upgrade."
"I thrive under emotional damage," Jozay said with a proud little nod. "And trauma builds character, right?"
"No. Therapy builds character. You build… chaos."
They both chuckled—soft and genuine. The kind of laughter that only two people bonded on a level deeper than blood could share.
After a moment of comfortable silence, Jozay looked around the gentle glow of the capital again.
"Y'know… it was kind of fun. Stressful, humiliating, and full of pastry-based mind games, but fun."
"You're adapting."
"I have to. This world's crazy, Elias. If I don't keep evolving, I'll drown in it."
"…Not on my watch."
Jozay smiled. This time, tired but steady.
"Welcome back, partner."
The cobblestone road shimmered faintly under the evening light. Magic lanterns began flickering on one by one, their enchanted glow gently illuminating the path back toward the fancy resort Vale had insisted on. Jozay walked at a lazy pace, stretching a little as he finally saw the large silver gates come into view.
"Huh… We're already back?" he muttered, blinking up at the sign etched in animated script above the gate. "That took, like, fifteen minutes. It felt like hours earlier."
"That's because you were running in circles like a confused bat."
"No, I mean the sync," Jozay replied, scratching his head. "Didn't you say the syncing would take a full week? What changed?"
There was a pause.
"Do you ever listen when I talk?" Elias grumbled inside his mind. "I forced the merge. It's incomplete. Half-baked. Like… magically microwaved eggs."
"So you rushed the soul fusion because I was bad at directions?"
"No. I rushed the fusion because you got emotionally compromised by decorative cupcakes."
"It was psychological warfare!"
"It was pastry, Jozay."
Jozay sighed dramatically. "You make it sound like I was crying in the rain, monologuing about life. I was just… processing."
"While spinning in the same market circle three times."
"Okay, yeah, fair."
He reached the gate. As it shimmered open with a polite mana chime, the uniformed elf attendant gave him a mild nod—clearly used to seeing nobility. Jozay gave a lazy wave back, trying his best not to trip on the velvet walkway that literally adjusted itself to match his stride.
"This place still feels way too luxurious for me," he whispered. "Like I'll get charged for breathing wrong."
"You are a fake noble with a half-complete soul merge and a skill based on social scamming. If anyone belongs here, it's you."
"You say that like it's a compliment."
"It is. You're adapting. But don't rely on this fusion too much. I can't do it again if you fry something important."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Spatial awareness? Temporal balance? The ability to sleep without narrating your life like it's a memoir?"
"That last one's not a skill, it's just a vibe."
"It's a diagnosis."
Jozay chuckled, pushing through the grand archway into the resort courtyard. The scent of hot spring mineral steam drifted from one side, and soft music played from a distant garden.
"Well, half-baked or not, thanks for doing it. I actually feel… grounded now. Like I belong here a little more."
"You don't. But I get what you mean."
"Rude."
"Realistic."
They shared a moment of companionable silence as Jozay stepped into the front atrium of the resort. The staff bowed politely. Everything glowed a bit too much. The chandelier was definitely humming in F-sharp.
"Alright. Let's find Vale before she thinks I drowned in a wishing fountain."
"Honestly, you would drown in one."
Jozay smirked and started toward the suite hallway, boots clicking against enchanted glass-tiled floors.
Time to rest. At least until Vale returns.
(break scene)
The sun had just begun to stretch its golden fingers across the rooftops of the district. The air smelled faintly of morning dew and bread ovens warming up.
Vale stood at the edge of her old neighborhood, the same one she'd once trained in, laughed in, bled in.
Now? Just a stop on a longer road.
Her mother held her hands tightly, eyes misted but not crying. The same kind of strength Vale inherited—quiet but absolute.
"You don't have to send money every time, Vale," her mother said with a smile that tried not to tremble. "We're not starving."
Vale smirked. "You raised a daughter who runs into monsters and collects bounties like they're pastries. Let me pamper you a little."
She handed her a folded leather pouch—lined with enchanted threads. Inside: a lot of money.
Ɱ 2,000 Marks from the local bounty circuit.
ℨ 500 Zels, freshly exchanged and fire-crystal backed.
ɐ 300 Glints, because the Federation liked to overpay in weird ore currency.
"Consider it my apology for skipping out on your last five birthdays."
Her mother rolled her eyes. "You missed seven, actually."
"...Right. I blocked those years out on purpose."
Her younger brother Eranis leaned on the fence with his arms folded, trying very hard not to look emotional. He looked just like their late father now—broad-shouldered, quiet, sharp-eyed.
"Take care of yourself out there, Vale."
She glanced over at him. "You too. And keep the mana furnace clean or I'll come back just to kick your lazy butt."
He scoffed. "Like I'd let it break. You've nagged me enough times about it; it's a trauma response now."
She laughed. A full one this time.
Then her mom tilted her head. "Your new companion. The one you mentioned over dinner?, What's his name again?"
Vale looked off toward the horizon.
"Elias," she said simply. "He's… complicated. Smart. Kind. Weird."
"Sounds like someone else I know," her mother teased.
Vale shrugged, a fond smile teasing her lips.
"He's not just anyone, though. He has something… big inside him. Potential, or danger. Maybe both."
"Sounds like someone you'll either save or need to stop," her brother said, eyebrow raised.
"Exactly," Vale muttered.
Her fingers brushed her belt, where her spell-knife always sat. It felt heavier today.
Her mother blinked. "...Vale, is this your way of saying you like him?"
"No," Vale said instantly, face flushing.
Her brother grinned. "I'm gonna tell the neighbors you brought home a weird magic boyfriend."
"You'll regret that," she said, grinning. "I'll enchant your boots to squawk every time you lie."
They all laughed again.
But the moment grew quiet. Vale adjusted her cloak, pulling the hood up halfway.
Time to go.
"Thank you for always being here," she said, more softly than usual. "For keeping the home warm. For reminding me I'm still someone's daughter."
Her mother stepped forward and hugged her, tight, strong, and filled with every unspoken word they didn't need to say.
"And you'll always have a home here," she whispered.
Vale broke away, wiping a smudge off her cheek like she wasn't getting emotional.
She turned away.
"Tell Dad I said hi," she added, pointing a thumb toward the sky.
"Only if he's listening," her mother called back.
Vale waved once—without looking back—and vanished into the morning light, cloak fluttering behind her.
The door to the suite clicked open with a soft hiss of mana-locked enchantments disengaging.
Vale stepped in, boots damp from the misty evening outside, her green cloak trailing droplets onto the pristine marbled floor. The suite's magical ambient lighting adjusted itself at her presence—dim, cozy, almost like it understood she didn't want noise tonight.
"...I'm back," she muttered, half-expecting some sarcastic comment or a fake noble accent welcoming her with 'Oh-ho, milady returns~'.
But the room was silent.
Too silent.
She walked further in and paused.
Jozay was there—sprawled across the plush couch in the center of the suite's sitting room, an open book half-draped over his chest, one arm dangling dramatically off the edge like he'd been mid-monologue and then simply… shut down.
A faint snore escaped him.
"...Eh?"
Vale blinked.
Walked closer.
Jozay was absolutely, completely, finally asleep.
No muttering. No mana tweaking. No pacing. No pretending to meditate but secretly overthinking his entire existence.
Just… sleeping.
A throw pillow had somehow made its way onto his face at some point and stayed there, despite its obvious disapproval of being used as a breathing aid.
Vale couldn't help but laugh softly.
"You idiot…" she whispered, kneeling beside the couch. "You actually slept. For real this time."
She brushed his hair aside lightly—something she probably wouldn't have dared if he were awake. His breathing was even, mana stabilized, no chaotic storm curling under his skin like usual.
He looked young.
Not battle-worn. Not distant. Just… peaceful.
"About time. You've been running around like a stray elemental. Even I thought you were possessed by stress."
She sat down beside the couch quietly, not waking him, just letting the moment sit.
Jozay stirred for a brief moment and muttered in his sleep:
"Mmm… I told you, Elias… cupcakes aren't surveillance devices…"
Vale blinked. Then burst into a muffled laugh, covering her mouth.
"...You are so weird."
She leaned back against the armrest, arms folded, cloak still damp but no longer bothering her.
This was nice.
Quiet. Real.
It reminded her of home, before things became… complicated.
She looked at him again.
"I'm glad you're resting," she said softly, almost to herself. "You push too hard. Even your soul's probably sore from carrying your ego."
Jozay let out another little snore in reply.
Vale smiled—just a little.
"Sleep well, Elias."
And for the first time in a long time, one of the strongest elves in the world let herself relax too.
After two days and two nights of staying in the resort, it was finally time to set out to Ignarith.
[System Time Notification: 6:42 a.m]
The morning sun filtered in through enchanted glass panes, softly warming the polished marble floors of their luxurious resort suite. Birds chirped outside in unnatural harmony — probably mana-tuned.
A lump in the bed groaned under the covers.
"Five more minutes," came the muffled voice of Jozay, hugging a pillow like it owed him money.
Unfortunately, the world had other plans.
Vale, already dressed in travel-ready garb with a light-gray cloak fluttering behind her and a half-ponytail swaying in time with her movement, stood with her arms crossed near the suite door.
She exhaled sharply.
"You've had enough beauty sleep, Your Highness. We leave for Ignarith in one hour."
No response. Just a snore.
Vale's eye twitched. She marched over, grabbed the corner of his blanket, and yanked it in one fluid motion.
"Up. Bath. Change. I'm not teleporting you to a fire mage nation smelling like warm regrets."
Jozay blinked awake like someone who'd just been born again, eyes squinting at the sudden morning brightness.
"I—huh? Already? Didn't I just close my eyes?!"
Elias's voice hummed casually in his head, like someone sipping coffee in another room.
"Technically, you slept for forty-nine hours and twenty-three minutes. That's practically a coma for you."
"...I deserved it," Jozay muttered mentally, dragging himself up.
Elias didn't let up.
"Don't forget to wash behind your ears. You're heading into a nation of living flame. Last thing we need is you becoming the scent-based weak link."
"I'm not a candle, you snob," Jozay hissed internally, stumbling into the bathroom.
Vale called out from the sitting room as the sounds of magical plumbing kicked in.
"Bring the navy blue outfit with the gold trim. You know—the one that makes you look like you belong in high society. We're making a teleportation entrance, not wandering into a tavern."
"How do you even know what clothes I packed?!" Jozay yelled from behind the door, voice echoing with steam.
"I sorted your luggage. You had a folding spell misaligned and the socks were attacking each other."
"...You went through my stuff?!"
Vale: "You fold your clothes like you were raised by squirrels."
Elias, unhelpful: "Even the squirrels would sue for defamation."
After a few grumbles, water splashing, and a full-blown fight with enchanted toothpaste (he lost twice before figuring it out), Jozay stepped out in the chosen outfit — freshly scrubbed, mildly grumpy, and surprisingly princely.
"Alright, I'm ready. Let's do this 'Ignarith' thing before I change my mind and sleep another year."
Vale looked him over, smirking as she handed him a sealed transport scroll glowing faintly with spatios-mana.
"Looking sharp, Elias. Try not to trip during arrival. We're representing me, too, you know."
Jozay arched a brow. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, let's get this over with, shall we?"
Vale turned away coolly. "That's the spirit, also when we arrive, please do well to maintain your pyro mana."
"At this rate," Elias snickered in Jozay's mind, "she'll be calling you 'husband' with how worried she always is."
Jozay mentally launched a pillow at him.
[🔔 System Reminder: Scheduled Teleportation to 🔥 Ignarith in 38 minutes. Be within casting zone.]
They stepped toward the summoning glyph already etched into the floor of the suite. Mana rippled around them like air before a thunderstorm.
Vale glanced sideways at him.
"Ignarith awaits. You ready?"
Jozay took a breath, cracked his neck, and grinned slightly.
"Born ready. Mostly."
"You smell like a firework."
"That's confidence, Vale."
Vale chuckled. "Sure it is."
With a flash of gold and red mana, the world around them bent and folded inward.