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Chapter Nine: The Reason
The road stretched out flat for miles. Dry trees passed by the windows, their leaves barely holding on. The carriage hummed steadily, its mana core giving off a soft, dull vibration under the seats.
Eli sat on the right side, bag resting near his feet. He stared out the window, watching the dust trail behind them. The inside of the carriage was simple—two long benches, wooden floor, thin cushions. No decorations, no insignias.
Monroe sat opposite him, coat draped loosely over one shoulder, legs crossed. His eyes were half-lidded, as if he'd been dozing for a while, but suddenly, he spoke.
"So," Monroe said, voice casual. "Why do you want to get stronger?"
Eli blinked and turned his head slightly.
"What?"
"Pretty standard question," Monroe added. "Every student I've had gets it within the first hour. Most come prepared with a dramatic answer. Something about revenge, legacy, saving the kingdom. You get the idea."
Eli looked back toward the window. He scratched at the side of his neck for a second, then shrugged.
"No real reason," he said.
Monroe raised an eyebrow. "None at all?"
Eli gave a small nod. "Just because I want to. Nothing really."
There was a pause.
Monroe leaned back against the carriage wall and laughed—a short, honest sound. Not loud, not sarcastic. Just amused.
"That's a good reason," he said.
Eli looked over, a little surprised. "It is?"
"Sure," Monroe said. "It's honest. Doesn't weigh itself down."
Eli didn't answer, but he gave a faint nod and went back to watching the trees.
---
In truth, he didn't know when the desire started. There was no clear event, no life-changing moment. No lost family member, no village burned down. He just remembered always feeling behind.
Bram had been strong since they were young. Niall was dependable, grounded. Their father had a weight to him, a presence that didn't need words. Eli had never felt particularly lacking—but never exceptional, either.
Then he awakened.
And something shifted—not in the world, but in him. Not ambition. Not a need to prove anything. Just... movement. A direction. A low hum that told him to follow where it led.
It didn't need a reason. It just was.
And when he thought about turning it down, stopping the training, letting things stay as they were—he didn't feel guilt. He just felt the quiet itch of incompleteness.
That was enough.
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Monroe pulled something from the inside of his coat—a small pack of dried fruit. He popped one into his mouth and offered the rest toward Eli.
Eli took one, hesitated, then nodded in thanks.
"I've met a lot of students," Monroe said, chewing slowly. "Some crack under pressure, others love the attention. You don't look like either."
"I'm just trying to learn," Eli replied.
"Good. That makes one of us."
Eli raised an eyebrow.
Monroe gave a lopsided smile. "I make most of this up as I go. But I've been around long enough to know what doesn't work. That helps."
"You've trained people before?"
"A few. Some didn't last. One made it to Rank 4. She was smarter than me."
"What happened to her?"
"She joined a merchant guild," Monroe said, casually. "Does paperwork now. Seems happy."
Eli didn't press further.
The carriage bumped slightly as the road shifted from packed dirt to stone. The mana engine adjusted, the hum softening.
"Alright," Monroe said, sitting up straighter. "Here's the plan."
Eli looked at him.
"We're heading to a mid-tier guild outpost. Not a huge city, but big enough to find proper training grounds, a few decent sparring partners, and—if we're lucky—real opponents. You'll start basic conditioning and movement drills right away. Soul Energy control in the evenings."
"Okay."
"You'll get one day off a week. Use it however you want. Doesn't matter to me. But if you slack off during training, I'll cancel the break."
"Understood."
Monroe studied him for a moment, then tilted his head. "You always this agreeable?"
"No. Just don't have anything to argue about yet."
Monroe smiled slightly. "We'll see if that holds."
---
They passed a few wagons along the way—traders, mostly. Some waved. Monroe nodded back lazily. Eli kept to himself.
After about an hour, the road dipped toward a low hill, and the landscape opened. Fields stretched across the right side, dotted with workers and plow teams. A small town sat in the distance, with the outer gates of the guild outpost barely visible beyond the tree line.
"That's our stop," Monroe said, glancing out the window.
"Looks quiet."
"It usually is. Good place to disappear for a while. Or build a foundation."
The carriage began to slow. The humming dropped to a low whine before cutting out entirely.
They stepped out onto the main street. The air smelled like dust and roasted grain. A few townsfolk walked past with crates and bags. No one gave Monroe more than a second glance.
Eli adjusted the strap on his bag.
Monroe stretched his arms behind his back, then pointed to a squat building across the road. "That's where we're staying. Upstairs room. Shared space. Hope you don't snore."
"I don't."
"Lucky me."
They walked across the street in silence. The building was older but clean. Stone base, wooden upper floor, open windows. A sign hung out front with chipped paint that read: Weller's Inn.
Inside, the main room was empty. Monroe waved to the innkeeper and headed up the stairs without checking in.
Eli followed.
Their room was plain—two beds, two chairs, one table. A small shelf against the wall. No decorations.
Monroe set his coat on the back of one chair and dropped his bag on the floor.
"Well," he said. "You've got about an hour before I start making you run up hills."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet."
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