"He's far surpassed whatever potential I first saw in him," a voice muttered under breath.
"Heinris of the Crimson Antlers—here's your change," a worker said, bowing respectfully as he handed over a pouch of coins.
Heinris gave a nod, accepting the pouch with little interest. As he stepped out of the estate's side entrance, the midday light hit his face, and he paused to glance back at the sprawling courtyard behind him.
He let out a slow sigh."We should've taken him in when we had the chance," he muttered. "Guess I'll have to tell old man Beintress we've lost that chance for good."
His boots tapped softly against the stone as he continued walking, voice low but heavy with finality. "The Ember Crown saw everything. There's no way we're prying him from them now. Guildmaster Beintress isn't going to be happy."
He stopped at the edge of the road, looking back one last time. "Harkin was it? I am uncertain of what you are, but I can already tell—you are destined to become a legend."
He pulled his hood up. "Guess my time scouting you is over." "That old man will not be pleased .What a nuisance."
Inside the Infirmary.
Harkin lay propped up on a cot, a faint glow still clinging to his skin as the potion worked through his body, knitting torn muscle and sealing fresh wounds. He winced slightly as he shifted, but the pain had dulled—mostly.
Barek sat nearby, arms crossed, casting the occasional glance at the doorway. Moments later, it swung open.
Aylin barged in first, her face streaked with soot and frustration, followed closely by Ameian, whose normally tidy brown hair now stuck out at wild angles. Burn marks dotted the sleeves of his robe, and his eyes carried the weary expression of a man who had narrowly avoided becoming a test subject.
"So…. I'm guessing that experiment didn't go well?" Barek said dryly, raising an eyebrow.
Ameian chuckled. "Oh, it was a complete disaster. Magnificently so."
"I'm right here, you know," Aylin huffed, puffing her blackened cheeks in protest. "That last mix was almost stable."
"Right up until it exploded," Ameian added with a grin.
Harkin let out a breathy laugh, his ribs still sore. "Glad to see I wasn't the only one getting beat up today."
Ameian's smile softened as he stepped closer. "I saw your fight," he said, gesturing toward the corner of the room where a tall, gnarled staff rested against the wall, topped with a glowing blue orb. "Watched it through the Seer's Eye."
"You held your own better than most ever could—especially against Rhess."
"Yeah, but… he was only the eleventh commander," Harkin muttered. "That doesn't sound like anything insane."
Barek burst into laughter, shaking his head. "Oh, if only you knew…"
He leaned forward, tapping a finger against Harkin's blanket-covered leg. "Rhess Vansler is one of the most gifted warriors the Ember Crown's ever seen. Youngest commander in over fifty years. And that's not a title they hand out lightly."
Ameian nodded. "You managed to push him hard before he even used his Rune. That's saying something."
Harkin looked down at his hands, flexing them slowly.
"I barely scratched him."
"Sure," Barek said, "but you made him bleed. That's more than almost any average person could do in their lifetime."
A moment of silence passed, the weight of the earlier duel lingering in the air.
"You haven't even reached the foundational stages of your rune yet," Ameian began, arms folded.
"I could tell—you've only awakened the trait granted by your rune."
Harkin's brow furrowed. "So… how do I unlock the skill?"
Ameian gave a small shrug, offering a wry smile. "Well, I don't have a rune myself, so I can't speak from experience. But from what I've gathered…" —he paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully— "you have to surpass yourself. Go beyond whatever limit your body and mind have accepted as their peak."
He leaned forward slightly. "It's not just about power—it's about growth. The skill doesn't come from the rune alone. It comes when you evolve with it."
Barek chimed in, arms crossed and voice firm. "Most people take years—sometimes decades—to unlock their Rune Skill. That's why people like Vansler are considered elite. They're the ones who rise above the rest, the kind who can make it far in this world."
He looked at Harkin, a small grin tugging at his lips. "And you? You put up a damn good fight. I'd wager you're already as strong as some of the fighters under Vansler's command. That says a lot."
Barek paused, then gestured toward the infirmary. "Anyway, once you're patched up, you can head over to—"
But Harkin was already nodding.
He didn't need to hear the rest. He'd been planning it anyway.
It was time to pay someone a visit. Solène. He had to find out if she was still in the Lower town.
As Aylin, Barek, and Ameian left , Harkin sat alone, the silence around him doing little to quell the thoughts exploding in his mind.
Is she still in the Lower Town? His thoughts drifted to Solène. He hadn't seen her in what felt like ages. The memory of her was already starting to fade at the edges. Maybe she's forgotten me too.
But his mind wouldn't stay still. It kept dragging him back—to Rhess. That fight.
He clenched his fists angrily. I'm nowhere near him. Not yet.For a while, he'd believed he was unstoppable. When he tore through those bastards in the forest and saved Aylin and Barek, it felt like nothing could touch him. Even Lettuce, despite how that fight had gone, hadn't shaken that belief completely from him, he had thought Lettuce himself was another breed all together yet now it seemed both him and Lettuce where practically nothing
But Rhess did. That fight showed me the truth. The gap between people like me and the people like him.
He tried to shake the thoughts off. No point wallowing.
Focus.Focus. Solène first. He had to see her. Even if she didn't remember him, he had to know if she was still here.
Then, something Bjorn had told him back at the Crimson Antlers Guildpost came back to him. If you want to learn more about your rune—about runes in general—visit the Vellum Vaults.
That was the plan, then. After checking the Lower Town, he'd head to the Vaults. He needed answers.
His thoughts circled back to Rhess again—to something he'd said mid-fight.Adaptability. That's your trait.
And Rhess hadn't been wrong. Harkin had started to adjust during the fight, even if it wasn't fast enough to make a real difference.
I could feel it, though. Every dodge, every clash. I was learning. Adapting.
"So maybe adapting is the trait I inherited from that Wolf Rune," Harkin muttered to himself. But if there was one thing he truly wanted to know, it was how to unlock the skill gifted by a rune. That mystery tugged at him more than anything—the missing piece he couldn't stop thinking about. That would surely get him to be at least on par or hopefully a level above figures like Rhess.
Just then, the door creaked open and a nurse stepped inside. She gave Harkin a polite nod before speaking.
"The effects of the potions have worn off," she said calmly. "You're free to leave the infirmary whenever you're ready."
Harkin gave a small nod in return, flexing his fingers as he sat up.