While we waited, my curiosity bubbled up again.
"Ash," I asked, "you came from outside the city, right?"
"Yeah," he said.
"Did you come through this gate?"
Ash's eyes drifted forward as if looking at something far away. "I don't remember."
He said it lightly, but his voice held a shadow.
"I was wounded back then," he added.
My stomach dropped. "Oh. Sorry."
Ash looked at me and snorted. "Relax, Trey. It's fine."
He ruffled my hair with the hand closest to me, messy and familiar. "The past is over."
Then, with quiet confidence that made my chest tighten, he added, "All I need to do is keep moving forward."
It sounded like something my sister would say.
But Ash didn't say it like her.
He said it like a man who had to believe it to survive.
The line shortened. The adventurers in front of us moved through. Soon we stood at the counter.
A guard leaned forward, expression neutral.
"Names," he said.
Ash answered smoothly. "Ashrend Cyanoir. Azuris Guild member."
Then he nudged me slightly. I straightened.
"This is Trey," Ash added. "He's with me."
The guard's gaze dropped over me—my sling, my bandages, my small size.
His eyebrow lifted. "Purpose?"
Ash answered like it was as normal as breathing. "Quest. Primrose Forest. Gathering."
The guard's eyes flicked back to me. "This kid too?"
Ash's tone didn't change. "He's with me."
A pause.
Then Ash added, just enough weight to make it a promise, "I'll bring him back."
The guard watched Ash for a moment, then nodded once.
"Guild emblems."
Ash handed over his emblem and mine.
The guard placed them into the verification box slot.
A faint light ran along the seams. A soft hum, almost like the device was breathing.
For a second, I held my breath.
Then the box clicked and released the emblems.
The guard handed them back. "Fine. Don't stray from the route. And you—" he pointed at me, "listen to him."
"I will!" I blurted.
The guard blinked. "Good."
I was so tense—so relieved—that when he waved us through, words spilled out of me without permission.
"Thank you, uncle!"
The guard froze.
The second guard beside him turned his head slowly.
Ash's shoulders twitched like he was trying not to laugh.
The first guard stared at me, then stared at Ash like Ash had brought a stray animal through the gate.
"…Kid," the guard said slowly, "I'm twenty-two."
I went cold.
"Oh," I whispered.
The second guard snorted.
The first guard's mouth twitched into a reluctant grin. "Good luck out there."
Ash finally lost the fight against his own amusement.
He laughed as we walked away, loud enough that I wanted to evaporate.
Outside the wall, the city's sound changed immediately.
Inside the wall, noise was constant—people, carts, business, life stacked on life.
Outside, the air felt wider.
There were no buildings crowding the sky. Only tents and stalls near the gate, temporary setups for merchants who sold supplies to adventurers—rope, cheap masks, spare filters, dried rations, little charms that promised luck.
Beyond that, the land opened into paths and greenery, stretching toward distant hills.
It felt like stepping into a different world.
Ash laughed harder.
"Hahaha!" he wheezed. "You called a guard uncle!"
My face burned so hot it felt like my cheeks were going to peel off.
"I'm sorry!" I shouted, mortified. "I didn't— I just—"
Ash slapped his own knee like this was the funniest thing he'd heard in years. "You're unbelievable."
"I panicked!"
"You panicked and aged him twenty years," Ash said, still laughing.
I groaned. "Please stop."
Ash tried to stop.
He failed.
Eventually he wiped under his eye like he'd laughed hard enough to tear up.
"Alright," he said, breathing out, "alright. We'll let you live."
I muttered, "Thank you."
Ash grinned. "Now come on."
"Where are we going?" I asked.
Ash's expression settled into something steadier. "First, I'm taking you to the Monument of Heroes."
"Monument…?"
Ash nodded. "You should see it. Helps put things in place."
I didn't know what that meant, but I nodded anyway.
We walked farther from the gate, the tents thinning behind us.
Out here, nobody cared what you wore. Nobody looked for crests. Nobody measured rank by cloth.
Out here, it felt like only one thing mattered.
Whether you could make it back alive.
My skin prickled at the thought.
Ash walked beside me, hands in his pockets like the open world didn't bother him.
As we followed the path, he started talking again—like walking made words easier.
"You know the kingdom we're in, right?" he asked.
"Avalonia," I said.
Ash nodded. "Avalonia has cities spread out in every direction. North, south, east, west… northeast, northwest… you get it."
I nodded, watching the landscape as if it might swallow the idea.
"We're in Azuris," Ash said. "South of Avalonia. Port city. Trade. Commerce. Noise."
"That fits," I muttered.
Ash's mouth twitched. "And there's Seagate to the west."
My ears perked. "Seagate?"
Ash nodded. "Knowledge city. Best academy in the kingdom. The Grand Academy of Seagate."
His voice carried something like respect.
Something like longing.
"You're going there?" I blurted.
Ash hummed. "Eventually."
I stared at him like he'd said he was going to touch the sky.
"How?" I asked. "How do you even get in?"
Ash glanced at me, amused. "You can't just knock on the door and ask nicely."
"Why not?"
"Because everyone wants it," Ash said. "To get into the academy, you have to be personally selected by a professor."
My eyes widened.
"Selected…?"
Ash nodded. "Scouted. Chosen. Whatever word you like."
I swallowed.
"You were selected?" I asked.
Ash shrugged like it was nothing, but I could tell it wasn't nothing.
"I got lucky," he said. "A Seagate professor was visiting during my ceremony. Saw something he liked."
I remembered Ash being gone for a week before, and how everyone acted like it was normal—because Ash was Ash.
That week had been this.
"Is that why you disappeared?" I asked.
Ash nodded. "Yeah."
I stared at him. "That's… cool."
Ash snorted softly. "It's terrifying."
I blinked.
Ash glanced at me. "Being chosen means expectations. Pressure. People watching whether you fail."
His tone was casual, but the words hit deep.
I thought of a certain arena. A certain crowd. A certain man watching without stopping it.
My chest warmed faintly.
Not pain.
Not warning.
Just… something uneasy.
I forced the thought away.
I looked at Ash again, and the ambition slipped out of me before I could stop it.
"Someday," I said, "I want to go too."
Ash looked at me for a moment.
Then he smiled. Not wide. Not mocking. Just… warm.
"Then you'll need discipline," he said. "And someone to notice you."
He bumped my shoulder lightly. "And you'll need to stop calling guards uncle."
I groaned. "Please."
Ash laughed again, softer this time.
The Monument appeared on the horizon like a cluster of pale shapes against green.
As we got closer, the air changed.
Even the wind felt quieter.
The path widened into an open stone plaza. The ground was clean, swept, carefully maintained. Grass surrounded it like a respectful border.
And in the center—
The monument wasn't just one statue.
It was a half-circle of heroes, eleven figures arranged in a wide semicircular pattern as if they were guarding something sacred in the center. Each statue was about the height of a grown man, carved from pale stone that had weathered smooth over time. They all faced inward—toward a single slab of stone set into the ground like an altar.
Ash slowed beside me.
"This is the Monument of Avalonia's Legendary Hendeca Heroes," he said, voice dropping without me asking. "Every city has one. Always just outside the wall. Always in the same kind of place."
I stared at the statues again, and only then did I notice something strange.
Each hero held their arm forward.
Not a weapon—
A hilt.
A stone hilt, extended toward the center like they were offering it… or asking someone to take it.
Ten of the hilts were empty, nothing but carved stone grips.
But the statue in the middle—
That one still had a sword.
Not stone.
Steel.
A real blade seated into the hilt, metallic and dark against the pale monument, like it didn't belong and yet had always been there. Even from a distance, it looked different from everything around it—sharper, colder, more real.
In the center of the semicircle, between where all the statues "looked," a block of carved writing sat on a raised base. The letters were ornate and old, the kind that made my eyes work harder just to read.
Ash stepped closer and nodded at the inscription.
"They sealed a Dark Lord," he said simply. "A long time ago. Thousands of years. They sacrificed themselves to lock it away."
My throat tightened as I looked at the eleven stone faces—calm, resolute, almost gentle. Like they'd known the price and paid it anyway.
"What's the writing say?" I asked.
Ash tilted his head, then recited it like he'd read it too many times to count:
"Lay your hand upon the waiting hilt—and if the sleeping steel yields to you,then fate has marked your name as Hero."
I swallowed.
It sounded like a children's story.
But standing here, with the steel sword catching dull daylight, it didn't feel like a story.
I glanced up at Ash. "So… someone can pull it?"
Ash snorted softly.
"In theory," he said. Then he jerked his chin toward the steel blade. "In practice? Nobody does."
He scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed to admit it.
"I've tried," he added.
I blinked. "You did?"
"Several times," Ash said, deadpan. "I was younger. Dumber. Thought I'd be special."
He looked at the sword again, eyes narrowing like he was remembering the ache in his palms.
"It didn't move," he said. "Not even a breath."
I stared at the steel blade, suddenly feeling smaller.
Eleven heroes offering hilts like a silent challenge.
And in the middle, a sword that had been waiting longer than anyone alive.
I didn't know why my throat tightened.
Maybe because they looked like people who had carried something heavy and never put it down.
Ash stood beside me for a moment, quiet.
Then he murmured, "This is why the kingdom stands."
I swallowed.
It was strange. Standing here made the city wall feel less absolute.
The wall wasn't the kingdom's strength.
People were.
Ash started walking again, guiding me along the base of the monument.
I followed, my eyes tracing the carved details.
Then—
Two voices snapped the quiet.
Sharp. Frustrated. Urgent.
I turned, startled.
Near the far side of the plaza, two boys stood facing each other—close enough that it looked like they'd been arguing for a while.
One was familiar in the way someone becomes familiar through repetition in a place like the guild.
Todd.
He stood with his shoulders squared like he was trying to be bigger than he was. His face was tense, brows drawn down, mouth set in a line like he was refusing to back off.
The other boy had messy hair and too much energy packed into his limbs even when he was standing still.
Milo.
His hands were waving as he spoke, eyes wide, expression dramatic like he was narrating the end of the world and expecting the world to applaud.
I couldn't hear the words clearly from here, but the tone wasn't playful.
It was the kind of argument that had something underneath it.
Something that didn't belong beside a monument.
Todd's gaze flicked over Milo's shoulder—and landed on us.
His expression changed instantly.
His eyes widened.
"Ash!" Todd shouted.
At the exact same time, Milo's head whipped around, and his face lit up like a spark hit dry grass.
"Trey!" Milo shouted.
Their voices hit in unison.
And the way Milo said my name—too loud, too relieved, too excited—made the hairs on my arms rise.
Because Milo only reacted that big when something big was happening.
Ash's posture shifted beside me, subtle and immediate.
Like a man stepping between me and a storm without thinking.
Todd started walking toward us fast.
Milo followed half a step behind, still talking—even from this distance I could see his mouth moving like he couldn't stop it.
And whatever they'd been arguing about—
Whatever had driven them out here—
It felt like it was about to crash straight into us.