In the darkness, a faint echo stirred.
One word repeated itself—softly at first, then louder, clearer—ringing through the void and into Soren's ears.
"Healing."
Light crept into his periphery, pale and slow, until his eyelids fluttered open.
The surroundings were dim. Night had already fallen.
His body jolted upright with a gasp. A low, burning pain still pulsed in his leg, radiating outward in dull, rhythmic waves that made his teeth clench. As he tensed, a sudden pressure pressed against his shoulder, guiding him gently back down.
A hand.
His gaze shifted toward it—then to the woman it belonged to.
Behind her, another figure sat quietly by the campfire, flipping through a book. A man with medium-length brown hair and an unremarkable presence—nothing about him stood out at first glance.
But the woman before Soren was… striking.
Blonde hair framed her face, and her eyes were a sharp, piercing blue. She wore gray-white robes, and though her touch was firm, it wasn't threatening—only careful, almost gentle.
"Please—please lie down," she said quickly, her voice hurried, laced with concern. "You were almost dead."
Before Soren could reply, a large figure approached from behind her. A man—tall, lean, muscular—with three weapons strapped across his back.
What's going on…? I fought the Gnarler… I was supposed to be trailing that group…
Wait… is this the group I was following?
The man's voice cut into his thoughts.
"Stop fussing, Alice. He's clearly still breathing." He gave Soren an unreadable look—neither warm nor hostile, just assessing. "Now that you're awake, mind telling us what you're doing out here?"
Then, as if remembering something, he added with a faint smirk, "Oh—right. I need to go grab Iris. Make sure our guest doesn't try crawling away."
He chuckled softly and turned to leave.
Clearly, he was joking. Soren could barely move, let alone run. Though the burning in his leg had dulled, the injury was still raw—repaired just enough to keep him alive.
Soren hesitated. He didn't want to reveal too much—but saying too little could raise suspicions.
Glancing sideways at the woman—Alice, apparently—he spoke in a calm, even voice.
"Who are you people? …And did you heal me?"
She smiled softly, her tone gentle.
"Just a group of travelers, really. We heard a surge of lightning earlier—and out here, there aren't any monsters capable of producing something like that. So, at our captain's insistence, we backtracked to investigate."
She paused, then added, "That's when we found you—collapsed and bleeding. You were poisoned by a Gnarler, and your leg was in a terrible state. Honestly, you're lucky we got here in time."
Alice leaned back slightly, folding her hands in her lap.
"Now just rest a little longer. Iris and Garald will be here soon."
So… they found me before I could find them.
Ironic.
They don't seem hostile—at least not yet. But I should still keep certain things to myself. I don't even know if they're connected to that old man's acquaintances… if he even had any.
Soren remained on the ground, his body still heavy with fatigue, when two more figures emerged from the darkness.
One of them was the same man from earlier—lean, muscular, with short brown hair and a quiet, steady presence.
Beside him walked a tall woman, just as imposing in height. Her crimson-red hair caught the faint firelight, and her eyes matched—deep, striking, and sharp. A slender ivory-white sword hung at her hip, gleaming slightly under the flickering glow. Her figure, though clearly formidable, was cloaked beneath sleek black armor, its design threaded with deep red inlines that pulsed subtly like embers.
As they stepped closer, Soren pushed himself upright, shifting into a sitting position.
The woman's gaze met his immediately—stern, direct. One hand rested on her sword's hilt.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice cool and commanding.
Soren paused for a moment, thinking carefully before answering.
"I'm Soren," he said calmly. "I escaped from a labor camp… and eventually came across your footprints. I- I followed them here."
Her expression didn't change, but she turned slightly—just enough to exchange a glance with Alice. Soren pretended not to notice.
"If you escaped alone," the red-haired woman continued, "how did you survive? Or awaken?"
Soren kept his tone measured.
"A clan arrived to rescue some of the workers," he explained. "As for surviving… I was lucky. I received a good enough weapon from the awakening trial that helped me stay alive."
That should be believable enough.
If I word it like this, they'll likely assume I awakened with the clan's help. And it's not impossible—there should be inheritances strong enough to let someone weak survive out here.
Well I didn't really survive in that sense but I did make it this far on my own.
Iris again glanced at Alice and brought her gaze back to Soren.
"So you are alone here?"
Soren gave her a calm look and answered "Yes it hasn't really been that easy as you can see"
Garald decided to interrupt "Where are you heading then?"
Soren thought for a moment "I- I don't know... I thought that I would come across something if I just continued and it seems it lead me to you"
Garald, the tall and well built man bursted out laughing "Haha I can't believe it... this kid is truly something. You could have gotten yourself killed on the first day but managed to make it this far. I bet Ren can finally have friend, hehe what about it kid. Wanna follow us to the next citadel?"
This man seems rather straightforward. If they are heading to a citadel I believe the best chance for me to make it is to take them up on the offer. They seem to be strong fighters at least Iris and Garald. The person reading a book seems a bit mysterious. Is that maybe 'Ren'.
Just as Soren's eyes looked over at the person at the campfire Garald added
"That's Damon quite a knowledgeable fellow, if your looking for Ren, I don't know where he is. He's always scouting during the nights but appears at the camp in the morning so you will see him. So what do you think about the offer. Not to be rude or anything but I don't think there's much of a choice if you want to live. It's already a miracle that you haven't been feasted by some kind of a monster."
Soren answered in a low calm voice "I will join you."
The way Garald phrased it felt more like a command than an offer.
Iris nodded and walked towards the campfire while Garald continued "Great, it's good to have a new face around here. Alice, is he able to walk tomorrow?"
Alice looked thoughtfully at the dark canopy above her head and said "I think so. I- I hope so... probably?"
Soren sat on the ground, confused.
Shouldn't she know the limits of her own healing?
Then Alice added "Yes he can walk, maybe limp, but walk with us at least."
Garald nodded and walked over, the leather of his armor creaking softly beneath the weight of three weapons neatly strapped across his back. He settled beside the fire where Iris and Damon were waiting.
"Alright. Shut it down for the night, will ya?"
Damon gave a respectful—if mildly annoyed—nod. "There's no need to put it out in this area, but… suit yourself."
He rose from the tree root he'd been using as a seat and scattered the burning wood with a few calculated kicks, burying the glowing embers beneath the soil.
The crackle of fire faded into silence, replaced only by a light breeze and the occasional shift of metal plates in the dark.
Soren remained on the ground, lit faintly by the shy moonlight filtering through the thick canopy above. It touched his pale, weary face in soft silver lines as he turned his gaze toward Alice.
Alice's eyes lingered on Soren, her smile soft but eager beneath the moonlight.
"So…" she murmured, drawing out the word with a light hum. "Rest up. I'll heal your leg."She gave a playful little wave, coaxing him to lie down.
Soren hesitated, as if something tugged at the edge of his thoughts. But whether from exhaustion or the faint poison still curling in his veins, the thought slipped away.
He leaned back, lowering himself onto the cold, firm earth. A few loose strands of hair fell across his eyes, shielding him from the glow of the moon above.
His hands settled on his chest, rising and falling with each slow breath.His mind felt heavy—overworked, as if he'd lived an entire day in a single hour.
The poison, probably. Still lingering in his system.
His eyelids dropped, and his thoughts began to blur—slipping quietly into the familiar dark.
And for a moment, there was nothing.
Like always, there wasn't supposed to be anything.
Only silence.
Until a voice stirred again within the void. Soft. Clear.
"Healing."