The sun rose behind the curtains, spilling warm rays across the living room floor, painting the walls in gentle golden hues. The morning air drifted in through the open windows, carrying the fresh scent of grass and dew glistening on the leaves outside.
In the kitchen, the aroma of toasted bread and tea filled the space, while Milo sat at the breakfast table, arranging his utensils and centering himself for another day of training and missions. His brown eyes gleamed with the clarity of morning, and his light brown hair was slightly tousled from the night's sleep, yet neat enough to reflect his calm and disciplined nature.
Across from him, Milena moved gracefully, arranging the breakfast tray with care. Her long brown hair shimmered in the sunlight as it fell over her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes radiated warmth and kindness. Her delicate, gentle face was lit up with a reassuring smile as she looked at him. She was roughly Milo's height, giving their interaction a balanced, comfortable feel, with no noticeable difference in height.
Milo and Milena sat across from each other at the table in the morning light. Milo's brown eyes and slightly messy hair caught the sun, while Milena's long brown hair and warm gaze gave the room a soft glow.
They spoke lightly, their voices gentle and casual. Milena asked about Milo's morning, and he replied calmly. Small smiles passed between them, and the atmosphere felt easy and comfortable, a simple, friendly exchange between them.
Their gestures were natural Milena adjusting a strand of Milo's hair, Milo sipping his tea nothing rushed or tense, just a quiet morning conversation.
Milo stepped out of his house, the warm morning light spilling over the streets of Novara. The air was fresh, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint aroma of freshly baked bread from the stalls lining the sidewalks. Children ran through the narrow alleys, their laughter echoing between the old stone walls, while vendors called out softly to early customers.
As Milo walked through the narrow streets toward Hirax's house, faint voices reached him from a nearby alley. A small group of townspeople had gathered, speaking in low, hurried tones.
"...did you hear? The Seventh Guild is back from their mission," one said, excitement tinged with awe in his voice.
Yeah... I heard about it. They managed to defeat that monster," the man said in a low voice, a mix of surprise and respect lacing his words.
Milo muttered to himself, letting out a deep sigh.
"Ah... with everything happening right now the Trouble Makers, the Talented Gang, and the truth about the Church... I no longer pay attention to the news about the guilds or what's happening outside Novara."
Milo arrived at Hirax's house and knocked firmly on the door, the sound echoing slightly through the quiet morning streets.
Milo didn't get any response.
"Hmm... seems like he's not home..." he muttered to himself.
Suddenly, a hand rested on Milo's shoulder. Startled, he jumped back, only to realize it was Hirax.
"Yo, Milo! How's it going?" Hirax said.
Milo looked at him, still catching his breath.
"You scared me, man!" he exclaimed.
Hirax opened the topic,
"Less than a month left until the teste to become hunters, Milo."
Milo looked at him and replied,
"Y-yeah... about twenty-four days. Still plenty of time to train."
"Yeah, my friend. Tomorrow we'll head to the Guild Agency to train as usual, right?"
Milo replied, "Of course, Hira."
As they walked, Hirax asked Milo,
"Milo, yesterday when you went and left Lilith and me... what happened?"
Milo fell silent, trying to hide the truth.
Hirax placed his hands on Milo's shoulders.
"Come on, tell me and stop hiding things from me!"
Milo sighed deeply.
"Ugh... alright, Hirax! I found out who attacked Sally."
Hirax was stunned.
"Whaaaat? Where are they?"
Milo replied calmly,
"I fought them... and beat them badly."
Hirax put his hand on his face.
Hirax said,
"You acted too hastily."
Milo looked at him and replied,
"hirax... if you had seen the person who attacked Sally in front of you, what would you have done?"
Milo smiled faintly,
"I'd guess... you would have done worse than I did."
Hirax glanced to the side,
"I would've... broken his bones."
Milo nodded slightly,
"I tried talking to him first, but he didn't even feel a shred of remorse."
Hirax folded his arms across his broad chest, his thick black hair slightly tousled from the walk, brown eyes narrowing with curiosity and concern as he studied Milo's face. His strong, solid build made him look imposing even in a calm stance, and the tension in his posture suggested he was ready for action if needed.
"Well... you really eased my mind with what you did, but I feel like you're hiding something else..."
Milo met his gaze steadily,
"In fact, the people who attacked Sally are members of a gang called the Talented. And this gang... it's huge, from what I know, and their leader is extremely strong."
Milo looked at him seriously, a mix of gratitude and caution gleaming in his eyes.
"So... that means they might target me for revenge..."
Hirax raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised.
"Oh... is that how it is... That's really dangerous."
Milo replied calmly but tensely,
"Yes... it's dangerous for me."
But Hirax interrupted quickly, his voice firm and confident,
"No... no, it's dangerous for them! Because anyone who goes after you, I'll go after them. No matter who they are... I'll defeat them."
Hirax stood tall, his strong frame radiating confidence and protection, while Milo felt a slight sense of relief amidst the unwavering determination of his friend.
Milo smiled warmly.
"Thanks, Hirax."
Suddenly, Hirax playfully smacked Milo on the head.
"Ouch! Why?" Milo exclaimed, holding his head.
Hirax grinned,
"That's for hiding things from me."
Hirax nodded, a serious but calm expression on his face.
"No matter what path you take, I'm always with you. We're friends, don't forget that. Just... don't go down a dark path, because if you do, I'll stop you myself."
Milo let out a relieved sigh, a small smile spreading across his face.
"Thanks... really, Hirax."
Milo looked at Hirax with serious eyes, his voice low but sharp:
"Hirax... I... I allied with a gang too... The Trouble Makers. One of their members was the one who showed me where the people who attacked Sally are..."
Hirax stared at him for a moment, his expression tense, clearly upset by the news.
"All this happened these past few days... and you didn't tell me anything?"
Milo felt a wave of regret, his shoulders slightly hunched.
"I... I didn't tell you this because I didn't want to... No, I don't want to drag you into these things, Hirax. Don't forget... we need to stay focused on our goals. We're going to leave Novara and discover the world."
Hirax responded firmly, a hint of concern in his voice:
"Yeah... and that goes for you too. Don't do anything reckless, Milo."
After that, Milo and Hirax met up with Lilithia and Ryo. The four of them spent the day together, wandering through the streets of Novara, talking and laughing as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
They visited the local market, where the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee filled the air. Milo found himself smiling more freely than he had in days, enjoying these rare moments of peace. As they walked, Ryo began sharing stories about the girls who had rejected him, and everyone laughed at his amusing tales, while Milo and Hirax felt relaxed, enjoying the warmth of their friendship.
As the afternoon faded into evening, golden light spilled over the rooftops, casting long shadows along the cobblestone streets. They found a quiet spot by the fountain in the town square, sitting together and watching the sun dip below the horizon.
Milo felt a deep sense of calm, realizing that no matter what dangers awaited them, moments like these moments of friendship and laughter were worth protecting.
Somewhere in the wealthy district, the streets were wide and immaculately clean, lined with grand buildings that gleamed under the soft glow of lanterns. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfumes and freshly baked bread, a stark contrast to the alleys Milo had traversed earlier. Guards in crisp uniforms patrolled the streets, their footsteps echoing against the polished stone, while high walls and ornate gates hinted at the wealth and influence contained within.
Tavian stood near the grand entrance of his mansion, his posture relaxed yet alert, as if every movement had been calculated in advance. The massive doors loomed before him, polished to a shine and adorned with intricate carvings that hinted at both wealth and power.
As Tavian placed his hand on the door handle, it opened quietly, and a servant appeared at the entrance, dressed neatly, bowing slightly in respect.
In a calm yet firm voice, the servant said,
"Welcome back, sir... you are late tonight."
Tavian's voice was calm and composed as he spoke to the servant,
"Prepare my bath... I will be bathing shortly."
The servant replied promptly, "Yes, Master Tavian."
Suddenly, a commotion echoed from outside the mansion. Two of Tavian's guards were struggling with someone at the gates.
The figure called out loudly, his voice carrying through the air: Tavian...
His forehead bore a prominent scar, a mark that caught the eye even from a distance.
Tavian stepped out of his mansion with calm, measured strides, his wavy red hair gently swaying with each movement. His dark eyes glinted with sharp focus, scanning the scene before him. He paused at the doorway, the frame of the door behind him creating a natural backdrop, and rested a hand briefly on the handle as if weighing the situation before acting.
Tavian stood in the doorway, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observed the chaos unfolding outside. The scar-faced man, struggling to approach, shouted out his name, his voice filled with desperation.
Suddenly, Tavian raised his hand slowly, a subtle yet commanding gesture. Two of his guards immediately halted their advance, following his silent command. The scar-faced man froze mid-step, his eyes widening in shock.
Before he could regain his balance, he stumbled and fell to the ground, forced to kneel before Tavian, gasping for air. His hands pressed against the ground as he struggled to steady himself.
"T-Tavian... my lord Tavian..." he stammered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe.
Tavian's piercing dark eyes, filled with both authority and a hint of cold amusement, swept over him. After a long, deliberate pause, he spoke, his voice low but resonant:
"Raund."
Raund, the man with the scar on his forehead, smiled despite collapsing to his knees before Tavian, and spoke in a composed yet strained voice:
"Yes... it's me."
Tavian raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting sharply as he listened.
"They... they hurt me... beat me badly..." Raund muttered, his tone filled with pain and bitterness, yet he hadn't lost his composure.
Tavian stepped closer, just one step, enough to make Raund feel the weight of his presence. Tavian's dark eyes fixed on him, his voice cold and cutting:
"Who... dared to do this to you?"
Before Raund could continue speaking, Tavian straightened up, his presence commanding attention. His dark eye sharp and calculating fixed on Raund as he raised a hand.
"Raund," he called with authority, his voice echoing lightly through the grand hall, "follow me. We'll speak in the guest room."
The corridor was lined with polished wooden panels and elegant decorations, the soft carpet muffling their footsteps. Tavian walked with calm, deliberate steps, his face composed but radiating an unmistakable authority, his dark eyes observing every movement with precision.
They entered the same room where Tavian had previously spoken with Lola the guest room,
The room was spacious, dimly lit by tall wall lamps, shadows dancing across the polished wooden floor. Tavian stood confidently, his face calm, but his sharp gaze made it clear that everything in the room was under his control.
Beside Tavian, Raiza stood upright, her katana at her waist, her eyes steady and alert, reflecting her calm, lethal readiness. Her long black hair, streaked with red, fell gracefully over her shoulder. Her presence radiated silent threat, yet at the same time, unwavering loyalty to Tavian.
Braund was seated, slightly slouched from exhaustion. A noticeable scar ran across his forehead, and his chest rose and fell rapidly as he still panted lightly from the previous exertion. Despite his fatigue, his eyes remained alert, following every subtle movement in the room, showing both weariness and readiness.
The girl with short gray hair and glasses stands by the window, her eyes sharply focused on the scene inside, observing every movement in silence. The dim light from outside casts soft shadows across her face, highlighting her delicate features and intense gaze. She remains calm, yet alert, as if carefully assessing the situation without revealing her presence.
Tavian's voice cut through the tense silence of the room.
"Alright," he said calmly, his eyes fixed on Braund.
Braund spoke, his voice still catching slightly from the pain.
"I was at the tavern in the poor district, just having a drink, when a boy(Milo) showed up. He attacked me… and struck everyone with me," he said, his tone a mixture of anger and disbelief.
Tavian's calm, authoritative voice filled the room as he called out:
"oh ok... Adelheid!"
The girl with short gray hair, standing by the window, slowly turned her head, her sharp eyes meeting his gaze. Her posture was poised, almost statuesque, yet a subtle tension lingered in her stance, betraying the careful attention she always paid to Tavian's presence.
Adelhied stood in front of Braund and handed him the screen, then calmly said,
"Describe the person who attacked you."
Braund took a deep breath, still catching his breath, and looked at the screen. His voice was low but steady as he described Milo:
"The boy… he has light brown hair, slightly messy, falling over his forehead. His eyes are brown, sharp… almost piercing. He's lean but strong, his movements quick and precise. He wears a dark shirt and trousers, and there's a necklace around his neck… it looks important to him."
Adelheid stepped closer to Tafvian, holding the screen in her hand and showing it to him.
"This is the person, Sir Tafvian," she said calmly.
Tafvian stared at the face on the screen, his eyes widening slightly as recognition dawned on him.
"Hmmm… this face isn't unfamiliar to me."
He let out a small sigh, then added firmly,
"He is Arthur's son."
Adelheid spoke first, her tone calm:
"Hmmm… Arthur's son."
She looked up at Tafvian, then asked,
"Sir Tafvian, what shall we do about him?"
Raiza stepped forward, her voice steady and sharp:
"Sir Tafvian, if you wish, I can bring him to you alive or dead, as you prefer."
Tavian looked at Braund with sharp eyes, his voice low but cutting:
"Why did he attacked you?"
Braund swallowed hard, anxiety clear on his face, stammering:
"I… I think… because I attacked his friend, sir"
Tavian fell silent for a moment, eyes narrowing as if weighing every word. Then he spoke, slow and cold:
"And why did you attack her?"
Braund's answer came out rushed, fear making him stumble over his words.
"Because… because it was… fun."
Tavian rose to his feet in one fluid motion and stepped up to Braund. His hand closed on the man's throat. The room seemed to inhale a terrifying aura spread from Tavian like ice across the air, making the lamps hum and the shadows deepen.
His voice was low, each word a blade.
"Braund I brought you into the Talented because I saw talent in you. I saw potential. And you shattered it with this." He tightened his grip a fraction, and Braund's breath hitched. "You assault innocent people for sport. Where do you think that path leads? Do you imagine my protection will last if you choose this? Do you think you can flout the rules I set and still stand under my roof?"
Raiza watched, impassive but alert at his side. Adelheid's face remained composed by the window, though her fingers tightened around the screen she still held. Braund's eyes widened; he could barely form a word.
Braund began trembling, his body shaking from fear.
"I… I won't do it again… I'm sorry, sir… please forgive me…"
Tavian released his grip from Braund's neck.
"Good… now make sure your words are true. Leave."
Braund didn't waste a moment. He bolted toward the door, heart racing, and quickly left the room, heading out in a rush.
Tavian sat back and let out a slow breath, then spoke.
"Raiza, I want you to bring Milo here."
Raiza readied herself, hand moving toward her katana.
"As you wish." she answered.
Tavian raised a hand, stopping her.
"Not now. Only when I tell you."
Raiza froze, released her grip, and lowered the sword.
"Understood, sir."
Tavian turned his gaze to Milo's image on the screen. A faint, cold smile touched his lips.
"Hmm… I'm eager to see your strength, Arthur's son."
The room fell silent after Braund's departure, a heavy quiet settling over the space.
The air felt slightly cold, as if every corner of the room carried a latent tension, waiting to erupt.
The dim lights cast dark shadows across the walls, and the paintings seemed almost alive, silently observing every movement.
Milo's image on the screen drew all attention, as if the room itself was waiting for his arrival, filled with both anticipation and danger.
Tavian sat quietly, his eyes fixed on the image, a faint, mysterious smile playing on his lips part curiosity, part challenge.