The hallway was quiet. Sunlight filtered in through a stained-glass window, painting red and gold patterns on the wooden floor.
He took a shaky breath.
He didn't feel strong.
He didn't feel brave.
But he was outside the room.
And for now… that was enough.
The city air stung sharper than he remembered.
Knight's boots scraped against the cobblestone as he walked, his breath quiet beneath the iron of his helmet. It wasn't fancy—just a simple, slightly battered thing he'd found lying around at the dark alleyway where it all began. It covered his entire face, visor down, dark and featureless.
He didn't want anyone to see him.
Not the broken, hollow-eyed failure beneath the steel. Not the boy who'd cried for days in a dark room, soaked in guilt. Not the pathetic adventurer who couldn't even protect one person.
This way, he didn't have to explain himself.
No one had to know what kind of face he wore under the helm.
He pushed open the doors to the guild hall. The usual mix of chatter, metal clinks, and clattering mugs hit him immediately. The place hadn't changed at all.
Which made it feel all the more wrong.
The guild's tavern-style hall bustled with adventurers swapping stories, checking quests, nursing drinks. The same receptionists behind the desk. Same old creaky floorboards. Same tired scent of ale and sweat and woodsmoke.
Only now… Toby wasn't standing next to him.
Knight's hands curled into fists at his side.
He spotted them almost immediately.
A tall figure stood at the quest board, eyes skimming the parchment with a quiet, focused air. He wore a dark green cloak streaked with dust and weather, broad shoulders wrapped in leather armor that had clearly seen years of use. His stance was easy but alert—like someone who could snap to attention at a moment's notice.
To his right, seated at the edge of a bench, was a girl with striking hair — long white locks marked by faint red streaks. Amber. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, unmoving, her posture composed but distant. The sunlight caught in her hair as it streamed through the high windows, casting a pale glow across her quiet expression. She looked almost like a painting—still, watchful, but far away.
The other girl stood nearby, animatedly pointing at something on the board. Blonde, lean, dressed in a half-cloak and leather gear suited for speed. Her voice rose and fell quickly, punctuated by small hand gestures as she made her case for—or against—whatever job was pinned there.
At the table behind them sat a dwarf with a barrel chest and arms like stone pillars. A massive hammer leaned against his chair, and his thick braided beard swayed slightly as he muttered to himself while running a cloth over the metal head of the weapon.
Beside him, a thin boy hunched over a book, nervously flipping pages. He had pale green hair and oversized robes that looked like they belonged to someone a few inches taller. A polished staff rested beside him, faint light pulsing from the crystal affixed at the top.
Them.
The ones who had saved him.
Amber and the blonde girl—Miriam, he thought—were the only ones he recognized. But this was clearly their full party.
He hadn't spoken to them since that day.
They didn't even know his name.
Still, he walked toward them.
Each step thudded heavier than the last, as if the weight of what wasn't beside him anymore clung to his boots like mud. His helmet reflected back the flickering lanternlight as he approached—just another faceless figure in steel.
Miriam noticed first. Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Well, look who crawled out of the swamp," she said, voice playful but edged with something more cautious than teasing.
Amber looked up slowly, her gaze cool but not unkind. "Didn't think you'd still be breathing."
He stopped in front of them.
For a moment, he just stood there, helmeted and silent.
Then, finally, in a low voice barely more than a breath:
"…I want to join your party."
Miriam blinked. "Wait—seriously?"
"I don't have a team anymore," Knight said. "No money. No quests. But I won't slow you down again."
Amber's eyes searched his visor. "You almost got yourself killed last time."
"I still killed the snake."
Silence followed. The dwarf looked up mid-polish. The priest paused mid-page. Even the room seemed to quiet for a heartbeat.
The tall man at the board finally turned.
He had the air of a leader, but not the loud kind. His expression was hard to read—lined, thoughtful. His black beard was neatly trimmed, his dark eyes sharp with the look of someone who'd seen more than he spoke about. A longsword rested on his back, and a silver badge on his chest marked him as B-rank.
"You're the one they pulled out of the swamp?" he asked, voice calm but firm.
Knight gave a single nod.
The man studied him for a beat longer, his gaze steady and appraising.
"…You've got guts. I'll give you that. Most don't walk back in here after something like that."
He extended a hand. "Titus. I lead the team."
Knight looked at the hand, then slowly reached out and clasped it. "Knight."
"That your name?"
Titus raised a brow. "Fair enough." He glanced at the others. "Any objections?"
Miriam gave a shrug. "I mean, he's already bled with us once."
Amber didn't respond right away. Her lips pressed into a thin line. But then, slowly, she gave a quiet nod.
Titus turned back. "You've got potential," he said, clapping a hand on Knight's shoulder—not hard, but solid. "I heard how deep you drove your blade. It's raw. But it's real. Stick with us, and I'll train you. After quests. You've got a long road ahead."
Knight's grip on his gauntlet tightened. Under the helmet, his eyes narrowed, not in defiance—but in grim resolve.
"…Thank you."
Behind Titus came a sudden cough, followed by a voice that cracked a little too high.
"U-uh—do we… do we have room for one more? I mean, not me! I mean, him. Yes. Him."
A boy stepped out from behind the dwarf's shadow. He was slim and had an awkward posture with robes that looked half-wrung out from stress. His hair was pale green and tousled like he'd forgotten to brush it for a week.
"Sairis," he said, gripping his staff like a lifeline. "I'm, um, the team healer."
Titus chuckled. "Don't mind him. Sairis spooks easy, but when someone's bleeding out, he's got hands like a miracle."
Knight nodded toward him.
Sairis looked surprised, then gave a crooked smile.
The dwarf leaned back in his seat with a satisfied grunt. "Darryl," he said, voice like rolling gravel. "I tank. You swing. Don't die. We'll get along just fine."
Knight gave a small nod. "Sounds fair."
Amber's eyes flicked back to him. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft, almost hesitant. "…You're not taking off the helmet?"
Knight's tone was cold. "No."
Miriam raised a brow. "That serious, huh?"
He said nothing.
Amber lowered her gaze. "Alright." A pause. Then, quieter: "I'm glad you lived."
His throat caught behind the steel.
He didn't answer.
Miriam elbowed her gently. "Let it go."
Titus clapped his hands once. "Then it's settled. If you're with us, you're with us. We'll see what you've got in the field."
He didn't know it yet.
But this was the first step toward something he didn't think he'd have again.
He wasn't going to be able to financially support himself lying in his bed all day anyways
He didn't know what to say to that. But he nodded, and that was enough.
Titus turned back to the board, plucking a scroll from the wall with a practiced flick of his hand. "Looks like we've got our next job."
Knight shifted slightly. "Wait… I'm coming along already? On the mission?"
Titus glanced over his shoulder with a slight grin. "Why not?"
Knight hesitated. "I thought… maybe there'd be a trial. Or… something to prove first."
"You already did that," Titus said, walking back to the table and tossing the scroll down. "You fought a monster three levels above your pay grade, alone, and survived. You've got guts. The rest?" He shrugged. "You'll learn in the field."
Miriam leaned forward, squinting at the paper. "Missing miners, huh? Sounds like a cave job."
"Eastern ridge tunnels," Amber murmured, scanning the mission details. "Miners went down three days ago. Haven't come back up."
"Guild thinks it's monsters," Sairis added nervously, flipping through his notebook. "Cave-in was ruled out. No seismic signs. That's what the last team said, anyway…"
"Don't worry," Darryl said with a grunt, hoisting his hammer. "If anything's still breathin' down there, I'll crush it 'til it's not."
Titus turned back to Knight. "You're in. No babysitting, though. You fight, you stay alive, you follow orders. Fair?"
Knight nodded. "Fair."
"Good," Titus said. "Then pack your gear. We'll leave in an hour."
Knight stood there for a moment longer, unsure if he should say something else—something to acknowledge how quickly this was all moving. But nothing came. So he gave a small nod and turned to leave.
Behind him, he heard Darryl's voice rumble, amused: "Kid's quiet. I like him."
Amber, still seated, glanced once more toward the door as Knight disappeared through it. She didn't say anything. But her fingers, folded calmly in her lap, twitched—just once.
By late morning, the party was already on the road.
The sun hung high in a pale sky as they passed rolling hills and fields tinged with the last green of summer. Knight walked near the back of the group, a silent, armored figure marching behind the others. The helmet—his helmet—never once came off.
Up front, Titus chatted idly with Darryl about quarry layouts, Sairis muttered to himself as he reread the request scroll, and Miriam hummed a tune under her breath as she flipped a dagger between her fingers. Amber walked beside Knight, though not quite with him—her arms folded, her gaze on the horizon.
For a long while, there was only wind and footsteps and birdsong.
Then:
"You ever worked a mine before?" Miriam asked Knight over her shoulder.
Knight didn't answer at first. Then, quietly: "…No."
She grinned. "Lucky you. It's like spelunking, but with more dirt and worse air."
Amber gave her a sidelong glance. "That's not comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be."
"You okay with tight spaces?" Amber asked suddenly, eyes shifting toward Knight. "Some people panic underground."
"…I don't panic," he replied.
A lie. But a practiced one.
Amber didn't push.
They arrived at the quarry by late afternoon.
The mining camp was deserted. Tents sagged, cold fires sat in rusted pits, and crates of ore sat abandoned. Nothing was torn apart. No blood. No drag marks.
"Looks like they left in a hurry," Titus muttered. "Or vanished."
"Creepy," Sairis whispered, gripping his staff.
The mouth of the quarry yawned at the edge of the camp—a sloping tunnel, reinforced with wooden beams and iron brackets, leading into the dark. Signs of recent cart tracks were visible in the dirt, but they stopped at the edge of the descent.
Titus turned to the group. "Alright. Standard formation. Amber and Sairis in the back. Knight, you're with me up front. Darryl's center to block if anything breaks through."
Knight hesitated, then nodded. He followed Titus toward the tunnel.
Amber passed him as she moved into position. She paused, just a fraction of a second, and said quietly, "If something happens… call out. Don't try to act tough."
Knight didn't reply. But the corners of his mouth—beneath the helmet—tightened.
The descent began.
Inside the mine, the light vanished fast. Their torches hissed to life one by one, casting flickering amber across the walls. The path angled downward through narrow halls and crude staircases. Ore veins sparkled faintly in the stone. Occasionally, the creak of wood or distant drip of water punctuated the silence.
"Be on guard," Titus murmured. "This place is too quiet."
They reached the first checkpoint: an abandoned elevator platform. More signs of sudden evacuation—helmets scattered, tools on the ground, a lunch tin still half-full. But no signs of a struggle or violence.
Titus knelt beside a set of footprints in the dust. They were scattered.
"Something probably scared them," he said.
Amber came closer, observing the prints beside him. "They ran… but there's no second set. No predator tracks. Just them."
"Fear without a cause," murmured Sairis. "That's worse."
Titus motioned onward. "Keep moving."
The team descended deeper.
Soon the tunnels widened, opening into a gallery of carved stone with exposed crystal veins. A faint, blue glow hummed from the mana ore embedded in the walls. Their footsteps echoed oddly here, bouncing in unnatural patterns, like the stone was mimicking them.
And then—
A sound.
Scraping. Shuffling. Not far.
Everyone froze.
From one of the side tunnels, something emerged.
It looked like a man at first. But only at first.
His eyes were blank white, his skin pale as bone dust. He staggered forward like a puppet on strings, dragging a pickaxe behind him. His clothes were that of a miner—but he moved like something hollow.
"By the gods," Amber whispered. "That's one of the missing."
Sairis stepped back. "That's… That's not alive."
Titus drew his blade in a flash. "Blighted. Everyone ready!"
Soon more appeared.
Stumbling shapes poured from the side shafts—dozens of them. Miners, but not. Their faces were blank, veins dark and throbbing with some corrupted energy. Magic gone wrong, or worse—infested.
Knight drew his blade without hesitation. He didn't think. He moved.
The first miner came swinging, and Knight parried it with a sharp clang. Another came from the side—he ducked, swept its legs, then drove his blade through its back. It crumpled into ash and dust, not blood.
"They're not human anymore!" Miriam shouted, slicing through two with her twin daggers.
Titus's sword cleaved through the pack like a scythe. "Don't hold back!"
Behind them, Amber raised her staff. A rune flared in the air.
A blast of air surged down the corridor, throwing half a dozen Blighted back into the walls. Sairis followed up with a beam of purifying light, hitting another in the chest and reducing it to smoke.
Knight moved with quiet brutality, his helmet glinting in the flickering torchlight. The Blighted didn't scream—they only moaned, whispered things in a language no one understood.
"Knight—behind you!" Amber called out.
He turned just in time to block a blow aimed for his neck. He slipped, staggered—but then a hammer slammed down beside him, crushing the thing in one brutal hit.
Darryl grunted. "Told you not to die."
Knight panted. "Thanks."
Within minutes, it was over. The last of the Blighted collapsed into dust, the corridor finally falling silent.
They stood in the gloom, catching their breath.
"What was that?" Sairis asked shakily.
Titus's eyes narrowed. "Blight magic. Forbidden stuff. Someone experimented here—or dumped something they shouldn't have."
Amber looked sick. "And the miners…"
The walk back to the surface was heavy with silence.
No one celebrated. No one spoke much. The echoes of the Blighted miners still lingered in their minds—their blank eyes, the way their bodies turned to dust, like they'd never truly lived at all.
Knight said nothing.
Amber walked beside him again. Not close. But not far.
"…You fought well," she said after a while, her voice barely above the soft shuffle of their footsteps.
Knight didn't respond, but his hand flexed slightly at his side. She noticed.
Up ahead, Miriam turned around, walking backward as she grinned at him. "You know," she said, "you've got this whole emo vibe going on. Helmet, silence, mysterious trauma… very brooding. Ten out of ten."
Knight blinked at her from behind the helm. "…What?"
"I'm just saying, if you start sighing dramatically or reciting dark monologues, I'm leaving you in the next crypt."
Darryl chuckled. "She's not kidding. She left me once for humming in a dungeon."
"It was off-key and haunting," Miriam shot back. "Besides, I had to pee."
Knight stared, unsure how to respond.
But then—just for a second—Amber smiled.
And though he said nothing, Knight's pace grew a bit lighter.
Later that night, as the party geared up outside the guild hall, Amber approached Knight while the others adjusted their gear.
"…You should eat," she said quietly, holding out a wrapped ration. "You'll need your strength."
Knight stared at the ration. Then took it wordlessly.
Amber didn't pry, didn't ask anything. She just stood there beside him, gazing up at the moonlight.
"…Do you remember their names?" she asked suddenly.
Knight blinked. "What?"
"The miners. Their names. I always try to read the report. If something happens to them… I want to at least know who they were."
Knight didn't know how to respond. He hadn't even thought to ask.
Amber gave a faint, sad smile. "People should be remembered."
Then she walked away.
Knight watched her go, something tightening in his chest. She was quiet—like him. But unlike him, she wasn't indifferent of others.
His mind was still blurry and heavy from the self loathe he constantly kept. Going on quests like these were an effective method of giving himself some rest after all.
Night had fallen by the time the group made it out of the mines and set up camp just off the forest trail. The stars above glittered like frost on dark velvet, and the scent of pine mingled with the lingering sting of sweat, dust, and dried blood.
A fire crackled in the center of their small clearing, sending warm light flickering over armor and cloth, over exhausted faces and heavy limbs. The quest had taken longer than what the had expected. What should've been a simple rescue had turned grim, and quiet stillness now blanketed the group.
They were alive, though. And the miners were safe.
For now, that would have to be enough.
Knight Muetsukashi sat apart at first, just outside the circle of firelight. His helmet, as always, stayed firmly in place. He hadn't said much since they'd left the mine. His body ached in a dozen places. The boy had healed him, but the ache was still there—deeper than just muscle and bone.
It was the same emptiness that never quite left.
Toby should've been sitting beside him.
"You're brooding again."
The voice caught him off guard. He turned slightly.
Miriam stood nearby, balancing a tin cup in one hand, her other on her hip. Her blonde hair was messy from battle, and a faint scar on her cheek still oozed the tiniest trickle of dried blood. She looked like someone who'd been through hell and was still waiting for dessert.
Knight didn't answer. She flopped down on the ground beside him anyway.
"I knew you were the dramatic type," she continued, sipping. "But sitting five feet away like you're some mysterious cursed loner is a bit much. What's next? Gonna write poetry under the moon?"
He grunted softly. "I'm tired."
"Sure. And I'm the queen of Erathin."
Knight didn't reply.
She nudged him lightly with her elbow. "You did good today, you know. You didn't freeze up. Didn't get in the way. Even blocked a strike for Sairis." She gave a low whistle. "Pretty ballsy, helmet boy."
"…I had to."
Miriam blinked, surprised by the answer. Not "I wanted to." Not "It was nothing."
Just: I had to.
She looked at him a beat longer, then nodded and stood. "Come sit with the rest of us. You earned it."
She walked away before he could argue.
Knight hesitated, then slowly got up and stepped closer to the fire. The others were already gathered: Darryl was roasting meat on a skewer the size of a mace. Sairis looked half-asleep, wrapped in a blanket, mumbling healing chants under his breath like lullabies. Titus sat polishing his sword, the edge catching the firelight. And Amber…
Amber sat nearest the flames, her face bathed in orange glow. Her eyes looked distant, but not unfocused—like she was watching something that no one else could see.
Knight sat down silently.
For a while, no one spoke.
The fire popped and cracked, breaking the quiet.
Then Titus said, "You held your own in there, Knight Muetsukashi."
Knight looked up. "Thank you."
"I wasn't just being polite. You could've panicked. You didn't." Titus set his sword down beside him. "A lot of greenhorns think they're ready for their first real fight, until they see corpses in the dark. You didn't look away."
"I wanted to," Knight admitted quietly.
Titus smiled faintly. "But you didn't. That's what matters."
Darryl gave a low chuckle. "Only thing you did wrong was not bringing snacks. Big dwarf like me's got a big stomach. Sairis over here tries to feed me those dry rations like I'm some kind of goblin."
"I-I said sorry," Sairis mumbled through the blanket.
Miriam snorted. "He has a point though. You could chew those things for an hour and still die of starvation."
Then her eyes flicked to Amber, and she smirked. "Amber's the only one here with taste. Those herbs you added? Not bad."
Amber blinked, startled by the attention. "They… they help with nausea. After trauma. And they settle the stomach. I wasn't thinking about flavor…"
Miriam leaned back, hands behind her head. "Still, I'll take it. That cave stunk worse than Darryl's socks."
"Hey!" the dwarf grumbled.
Amber glanced at Knight then—just briefly. Her voice was soft. "You were quiet back there."
Knight stared into the fire. "I didn't know what to say."
"You didn't need to. Sometimes… sometimes just staying is enough."
He looked at her now. Her expression was calm, but there was something behind it. Not judgment. Not sympathy. Understanding. She knew what it was to stand still when the world collapsed.
A silence settled again, this one gentler.
Then, unexpectedly, Miriam said, "So… does your helmet come off, or is it, like, cursed to your soul or something?"
Knight didn't move.
Amber, to everyone's surprise, spoke up. "Don't ask him that."
Miriam blinked. "What? I was joking."
"I know," Amber said. "But… some people wear armor for reasons they can't explain out loud."
Knight's throat tightened, though he said nothing.
Miriam raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Touchy subject. Got it."
Titus watched Knight for a moment, then nodded slowly. "We all carry our own things. Some are just heavier than others."
Knight finally spoke again, his voice low. "I wasn't supposed to be the one who lived."
The crackle of the fire seemed to pause.
Nobody said anything for a long time.
Then, quietly, Sairis said, "I think… sometimes the people who survive are the ones needed most. Even if they don't understand why yet."
Everyone looked at him. The quiet boy's voice was barely above a whisper, but the truth in it was louder than anything else.
Knight stared into the flames again, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
Amber gently moved closer, not saying anything—just sitting beside him. Not too near. Not too far.
They sat like that, in the quiet, while the fire burned and the stars blinked above them.
No grand declarations. No sudden shifts. Just the warmth of the flames, the low hum of Sairis's breathing, the soft crack of logs splitting in the fire.
Knight didn't feel any different.
The weight was still there—pressed behind his ribs, coiled behind his thoughts.
But for the first time in what felt like days, his mind had stopped clawing at itself.
When he wasn't scolding or loathing himself, he felt like he was going to throw up but now that spiraling guilt seemed distant.
Like his brain was finally taking a breath it had been holding since the swamp.
He didn't know if that made him better.
But it made the silence bearable.
And for now, that was enough.
The door to Knight's tiny rented room creaked shut behind him. It was a cramped second-floor space above the blacksmith's storage shed, barely large enough for a bedroll and a corner shelf, but after weeks of sleeping in tents and forest clearings, it felt like a palace.
He sat down without removing his armor. For a long while, he just stared at the wall. No thoughts, no noise. Just… quiet.
His fingers idly traced the chipped wood of the floor. The guild's warm lights. The laughter around the campfire. The scent of toasted bread. Amber's gentle smile. Miriam's teasing. Titus's reassuring presence.
They weren't dreams. They were real memories now.
He leaned his head back against the wall, letting the helmet knock softly against the surface.
His mind… it was finally taking a break as he slowly drifted off to sleep.