​The sun sat dead center in the sky when Roland's silhouette appeared at the end of the dusty street.

​The wooden door of The Silver Bell welcomed him with its familiar creak. The moment Roland crossed the threshold, an instant hush swept over the room. Every pair of eyes locked onto him.

​Clink. The teaspoon in Adul's hand froze mid-stir, dangling rigidly over his steaming cup. Naya's fingers, which had been rubbing a velvet cloth over her dagger's blade, went static. In the dim corner, Dom stood as solid as a gallery statue, his unblinking grey eyes pinned to Roland. Near the window frame, Eva slowly turned her head, waiting in silence.

​Rianor was the first to rise from his wooden chair.

​Without a word, Roland reached into the inner pocket of his coat. He withdrew a scroll of thick parchment, sealed with a dollop of bright red wax in the shape of the seven-rayed rising sun. Roland raised the scroll.

​"A Travel Pass," Roland whispered, his voice low but weighted with emphasis. "Southward."

​Clatter. Adul dropped his spoon onto the wooden table. His breath caught for a beat before he gasped, "My Lord... you actually did it?!"

​"I told you I'd get it, didn't I?" Roland offered a thin, barely perceptible smile.

​Rianor stared intently at the parchment scroll in his brother's hand, then shifted his gaze to Roland's face. The corner of his mouth twitched subtly. "You succeeded."

​"Of course," Roland replied with a light shrug. "I'm a diplomat. It's what I do."

​"When do we move out?" Adul asked suddenly.

​Rianor didn't answer immediately. He merely tapped his index finger gently against his own cheek—pointing to the swollen purple bruise still resting there, the split at the base of his eyebrow, and the dried crust of blood at the corner of his lip.

​"Look at me," Rianor murmured in a raspy voice. "My entire body is still falling apart. Tomorrow morning."

​Roland gave a slow nod of agreement. "Reasonable. I have no desire to haul your carcass if you suddenly pass out in the middle of the road."

​"I do not pass out," Rianor hissed flatly.

​"Oh, please. Don't lie to yourself; you'll crumble if you force it."

​"The fact remains that I have never fainted."

​Roland chose not to drag out the debate. He dropped into an empty wooden chair, stretching his aching legs until a soft pop echoed from his knees.

​"In that case, let's spend today enjoying ourselves. Our last day in Sanctum. Who's up for a stroll?"

​Adul blinked, looking deeply skeptical. "A stroll? After all the insane chaos we just survived?"

​"Precisely because of all that madness." Roland swept his gaze across the room, looking at his companions one by one. "I just escaped a grueling interrogation, and my brother..." Roland shot Rianor a teasing look. "...just had the worst day of his life. Our brains need a thorough rinse. Right, Eva?"

​Eva, suddenly called out, grew flustered. "E-eh... um, yes."

​Naya sheathed her dagger with a firm click. "I'm in. On one condition: we stay far away from the Cathedral."

​"Agreed. No Cathedral, no prayers. Just walking, eating our fill, and having fun."

​Roland smiled warmly. "Then today, we strictly relax." He stood up, clapping his hands once. "Let's split into two groups. Rianor, Dom, Adul—you three are one team. Me, Eva, and Naya—the three of us. We regroup back here before sunset."

​Adul slowly turned his head to look at Dom. Dom merely stood in silence with a piercing, vacant stare, entirely expressionless. Adul swallowed hard. Gulp. He desperately wanted to swap groups right then and there.

​Sanctum's cobblestone streets felt far more vibrant that afternoon. The scent of baking wheat bread and warm beeswax drifted through the humid air.

​Adul walked with a rigid gait, sandwiched between Rianor and Dom. He felt as though his body were being squeezed between two ancient glaciers ready to crush him at any moment.

​"The weather... is quite nice today, isn't it?" Adul tried to shatter the silence, his voice trembling slightly.

​Dom remained unfazed, his eyes vigilantly scanning their surroundings.

​Rianor merely let out a short, "Yes."

​Adul sighed in defeat internally. He decided to give up and focus on the rows of stalls lining the thoroughfare. Their pace slowed in front of a food stall emitting a savory steam. Adul purchased several warm pastries fresh out of the fryer. He blew on one briefly, then took a bite, yielding a crisp crunch.

​"Mmm! Delicious. Want to try?" Adul asked, his mouth half-full.

​"I have no need for sustenance at present," Dom replied coldly without looking.

​Rianor paused his steps, staring at the pastry in Adul's hand with a furrowed brow. "What is the filling?"

​"Minced meat with a slightly sour spice blend. I think they used pickled radish."

​Rianor extended his scarred palm. Adul promptly placed a warm pastry onto it. Rianor took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully, before giving a slight nod. "Decent."

​At that, a wide grin spread across Adul's face. Meanwhile, Dom kept marching at their side, upright and untouched by worldly temptations.

​Their footsteps eventually halted in front of an old shop with a shaded, ancient timber architecture. Its slightly dusty display window showcased rows of thick lambskin-bound books, small glass vials containing shimmering, colorful liquids, and several raw crystal clusters emitting a dim, purplish glow. Hanging above the entrance, an oak sign swaying in the wind displayed carved letters: The Goddess's Grace — Spiritual & Magitech Supplies.

​Rianor pushed open the door, triggering the chime of a small bell.

​Inside, the distinct scent of old paper and herbal incense immediately assaulted their senses. An elderly, white-haired monk sat peacefully behind a high wooden counter. He wore a simple grey velvet robe. A pair of thick, round spectacles perched on his crooked nose as he observed a dusty, wide-open ledger.

​"Good afternoon, my children," the monk greeted them in a deep, soothing baritone. "How can I assist you in this small shop?"

​Rianor walked along the high wooden shelves, his fingers tracing the spines of the leather-bound books. "I am looking for a text on magic stabilization. For beginners."

​The monk nodded in understanding. He rose with slow, trembling movements, walking toward the deepest corner of the shelves. From there, he retrieved a book bound in a slightly faded, dark blue flannel cloth. "This. Mana Stabilization for Novice Practitioners. It thoroughly covers the fundamentals of controlling and channeling mana within the body without damaging your internal circuits."

​Rianor accepted the book. Its weight sat comfortably in his hand. He flipped to a random page, revealing several diagrams of human circuit pathways, ancient geometric formulas, and detailed explanations of mana fluctuation frequencies.

​"Are you just beginning to study this art?" the old monk asked, adjusting his spectacles.

​"I merely need to stabilize my mana," Rianor answered coldly.

​The monk let out a soft chuckle, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening. "Many come here with similar grievances. They possess a vast mana pool, yet lack the control to keep the vessel from cracking. This book is indeed the right tool for you. But remember, young man—stabilizing energy flow is not merely a matter of calculations. It is a reflection of the peace within your soul."

​Rianor stared sharply at the old eyes behind the thick lenses. "What does the soul have to do with the flow of mana?"

​"Mana is a sensitive energy. It responds to the wild emotions in your chest like a mirror. If your mind is chaotic and filled with rage, your mana will surge like a tempest ready to tear your own ship apart. But if you can make peace with yourself and remain calm, the flow will run as smooth as a spring river. That is the secret of why healing priests can perform miracles—they pray to quiet the storm in their chests."

​"An intriguing explanation," Rianor remarked flatly.

​"Find your own way to quiet that storm. This book is merely a physical guide; the anchor of tranquility lies entirely within you."

​Rianor didn't argue. He reached into his pocket and placed three silver coins on the counter. The clink of metal against wood concluded their transaction. Rianor stepped out of the shop, the dark blue book secured in his grip.

​Adul, who had been eavesdropping from behind, quickly caught up to Rianor's stride. "Do you think... that old book will actually help with your hand?"

​Rianor opened the first page of the book as he walked, his eyes sweeping over the rows of ancient script. "We shall see."

​Meanwhile, in the more dynamic western district of Sanctum, Roland halted his steps in front of a temporary wooden gate.

​"Wow... this is completely unexpected," Roland murmured, crossing his arms.

​Before them stretched a small square that had been transformed into a lively community carnival. The laughter of children filled the air, accompanied by fragrant plumes of smoke from lamb roasting over hot coals, dripping fat onto the embers. There were wooden stalls offering ring-toss games, large wooden swings painted in bright, vibrant colors, and a simple wooden stage in the corner of the square that was currently vacant.

​Eva stared at her surroundings with wide eyes. A look of confusion mixed with unfamiliarity washed over her face. "I... I had no idea a place this beautiful existed inside the city."

​"Didn't you say yourself that you've never enjoyed this city?" Naya remarked, standing beside her with arms folded.

​"I never dared set foot in this district. It's too open, too crowded. And most importantly... too many Cathedral patrols."

​Roland caught a savory aroma that teased his appetite. Without wasting time, he strode toward the nearest roasting stall. "Three large skewers," Roland told the vendor, tossing a few bronze coins. Once the steaming skewers were handed over, Roland offered them to Eva and Naya. "Eat up. Consider it a farewell treat from me."

​Naya snatched her skewer without hesitation, taking a hearty bite that left a trace of rich sauce at the corner of her lip. Eva hesitated for a beat before accepting hers with a soft murmur of thanks.

​The three of them walked leisurely through the crowd. Gradually, Roland noticed sideways glances directed at them from several groups of residents clad in neat white robes.

​"Does he not know the rules?" whispered an elderly woman to her husband. "Having two wives is a sin of unfaithfulness."

​"Utterly devoid of morals," her husband replied in a judging tone.

​Roland caught the snide whispers, but he deliberately offered a wide, provocative grin. "We're leaving this cursed city tomorrow morning anyway. Let those rigid minds think whatever they want."

​"Are you truly not afraid of someone reporting us to the guards?" Eva asked, her eyes darting warily toward a pair of sentries standing not far away.

​"I just survived an interrogation by a mad pastor who can sniff out lies, Eva. Trust me, the judging glares of brainwashed civilians are absolutely nothing," Roland answered casually before taking a bite of his meat.

​They stopped in front of a ring-toss stall. Roland dug into his pocket and paid for three full rounds. Naya was the first to throw. With the precision of a Ghost Squad operative, the three rattan rings in her hand flew smoothly, landing perfectly around the necks of the target bottles without a single miss. The stall vendor could only gape in resignation.

​Now it was Roland's turn. He threw his rings with a casual flair—the first throw was a success, but the next two bounced wildly and hit the dirt. Roland clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tsch."

​Meanwhile, Eva merely stood silently behind them, clutching her empty wooden skewer.

​"Hey, don't you want to try?" Roland asked, turning to the girl while offering the remaining three rattan rings.

​"I... I've never played a game like this before," Eva answered softly, taking half a step back.

​"Precisely because you've never tried, this is your best chance." Roland gently took Eva's wrist, placing the rattan rings onto her cold palm.

​Eva stared at the rings in her hand, her breath catching slightly. She braced her stance, swung her arm rigidly, and tossed a ring with hesitation.

​Swoosh... clack!

​The ring arched through the air before landing cleanly over the furthest glass bottle.

​Instantly, a genuine smile bloomed across Eva's face.

​They decided to rest on a long wooden bench under the shade of a pine tree near the swing area. Naya returned carrying three wooden cups of cold, sweet fermented fruit juice. Eva held her wooden cup with both hands, her eyes sweeping over the happy crowd before her.

​"Why did you choose to keep following him?" Naya asked suddenly, her gaze fixed on the thoroughfare.

​Eva turned her head, looking slightly confused. "Following... who?"

​"Rianor."

​Eva went quiet for a moment. Her fingers traced the condensation on her cup. "He... he is entirely different from anyone I've ever met in this city. He has no fear, even when tortured. I've... never seen a man so stubborn and so strong."

​Naya gave a slow nod of agreement. "He is stubborn. But he always finishes what he starts."

​Roland, who had been leaning against the tree while sipping his drink, decided to cast a diplomatic bait. "My brother is indeed a very difficult man to understand, Eva. But I suppose, right now, he has someone who is slowly beginning to understand that complicated mind of his. And I think, to him, that is more than enough."

​Eva's brows knitted tightly, her face flushing with a faint blush before she even realized it. "Who... do you mean?"

​Roland merely offered the signature smile of a master diplomat. "Just some nonsense from a younger brother."

​The following morning, precisely as the first light of dawn broke over the eastern horizon, all preparations were complete.

​The carriage was parked neatly in front of The Silver Bell. All luggage had been organized in the rear trunk. Dom was busy checking the sturdiness of their horses' harness, while Naya re-counted their remaining supply of fresh water in the leather bags. In another corner, Adul ensured his communication box was wrapped in thick cloth so it wouldn't jar during the journey.

​Roland stepped closer, standing beside his brother while pulling his coat collar tight to ward off the bone-chilling morning wind. "We've made it this far."

​"Yet our true journey is not even halfway through," Rianor murmured softly.

​Roland turned, slightly surprised to hear a rare touch of melancholy from his rigid brother. "Are you... tired?"

​"Just a bit of stiffness in the joints."

​"You can sleep all you want in the carriage later. I'll keep watch."

​The carriage began to lurch forward, the creak of wooden wheels shattering the morning quiet.

​Time spun rapidly until the sun sat directly overhead. Their wooden carriage was now traveling through the canopy of a dense, ancient pine forest.

​Pine trees of colossal diameters stood closely on the left and right of the narrow trail.

​Suddenly, Dom's body on the driver's bench went rigid.

​His powerful fingers instantly hauled back on the reins, forcing the horses to whinny loudly as the carriage ground to an abrupt halt.

​But before anyone could utter a sound—

​Swoosh!

​A terrifying tear in the air shattered the forest silence.

​A colossal, blazing red fireball streaked rapidly from behind the darkness of the pine trees.

​BOOM!