Naritsa stood at the edge of the forested hill, bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun. The sky stretched endlessly above her, painted in hues of soft pink, fiery orange, and gentle lavender.
The early morning mist still clung to the treetops, rolling lazily over the valley below like a sea of drifting clouds. Birds sang their morning hymns, their melodies harmonizing with the whispering rustle of leaves as a warm breeze swept through the landscape.
A gentle gust swept past her, lifting strands of her golden hair, making them dance in the light. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The air was crisp and fresh, filled with the scent of pine, dew-kissed grass, and the distant aroma of campfire smoke from their resting place deep within the woods.
She had survived.
Escaping the Ghost Land had been nothing short of a nightmare wrapped in blood and fire. She had once been eager—excited even—to visit the city, but now? The mere thought of it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Never again would she set foot in that forsaken place.
Sometimes, reality shattered even the grandest of expectations.
As she savored the peace of the moment, the familiar sound of footsteps crunching against the damp earth approached from behind. The rhythm was unhurried, steady—someone she had come to recognize well.
She didn't need to turn around.
"You enjoy watching the rising sun as well?" she mused, a knowing smile forming as her gaze remained on the distant horizon.
Beside her, Nebula came to a halt. His silver-grey coat fluttered in the morning breeze, mirroring the way his grey eyes reflected the golden light of dawn. In his hands, he held a small cup, steam curling upward in delicate tendrils.
"It's irresistible," he admitted, his voice softer than usual. Then, with a teasing smirk, he turned to her. "But could it be any more stunning than the woman standing beside me?" He extended the cup of tea toward her.
Naritsa's fingers twitched, her cheeks immediately flushing a delicate shade of pink.
She had expected a casual conversation, not... that.
"I never thought you had the devil's tongue," she remarked, trying to suppress a flustered smile as she accepted the cup.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Nebula chuckled slightly, the warmth in his tone making the morning even more golden.
Then, silence settled between them, comfortable and unspoken. The wind carried the distant rustling of leaves and the faint laughter of their companions stirring in the tents below.
"But more than that, I'm just glad you're all safe," he spoke out once more, breaking the silence, his expression softening.
Naritsa turned to face him fully, her heart warming at the sincerity in his voice. "It's all thanks to you," she said, her smile genuine and bright. "You did it. You defeated the Ghost Land king and saved us all."
Nebula scratched the back of his head, his usual confident smirk faltering into a rare display of bashfulness. "I was just lucky."
Naritsa studied him for a moment. He was different now. Something about him had changed—not just his demeanor, but the very energy he carried. Her gaze flickered toward the nearby clearing, where a feline silhouette rested in the morning mist.
"I see you've finally accepted your new guardian." She spoke softly, her voice laced with both curiosity and admiration. "That's a great sign of growth."
Nebula sighed, folding his arms.
"Our battle with Yaron made me realize something." His voice was steady, thoughtful. "I've been holding myself back all this time. Clinging to grief, to the past… But that night, I finally let go."
Naritsa nodded, understanding the weight of his words.
After a moment, Nebula turned away, his gaze shifting toward the camp where the others still rested.
"I got you a gift." He smirked. "Laria has it."
Naritsa raised a brow in surprise, but before she could question him, he was already stepping away, his coat fluttering behind him like a phantom caught in the breeze.
She watched him go but refused to turn fully—choosing instead to linger in the golden light of dawn, her fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair. A soft smile tugged at her lips, hidden from view.
And there, beneath the first light of a new day, Naritsa realized something she wasn't yet ready to admit.
***
Whereas—
Jasmin, now a full-fledged ally, was eagerly engaging in discussions with Laria and Daryl, his curiosity palpable. He sat cross-legged on a rugged mat and leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles as he regarded Laria with newfound fascination.
"To think that you actually host a myth-level guardian beast…" Jasmin began, his voice filled with wonder. "I never knew you were this powerful."
Laria raised a brow, mildly offended. "Huh? So you actually mistook me for some kind of weakling?" she huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm Her Highness' royal assistant for a reason."
Daryl chuckled, adding his thoughts to the conversation. "But with such power, you could have ruled an empire if you wanted," he pointed out. "Yet, you chose to serve instead. Your devotion is admirable."
Laria's expression softened, touched by his words. "Thank you." A rare warmth flickered in her eyes. "But my life and loyalty belong to Her Royal Highness. She's saved me more times than I can count." Her voice held an unwavering conviction. "To protect her better, I sought strength—not for conquest, but for duty."
Both Daryl and Jasmin fell silent, their gazes flickering with newfound respect for the royal assistant. But as the conversation carried on, the attention gradually shifted to Daryl. There were still many mysteries about him.
Despite his youthful, almost innocent appearance, there was something about the boy—a quiet intelligence, an unusual depth. Laria and Jasmin couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't just speaking to a child, but to someone who carried wisdom far beyond his years.
Jasmin turned to him, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "And you, kid." he tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What happened to your guardian? How are you even alive without one?"
At that moment, Nebula entered the tent, his gaze calm yet filled with curiosity as he caught the tail end of the conversation.
Daryl lowered his head, his fingers absently rubbing against his knees. A shadow crossed his face, his usual spark dimming.
"I never had one," he said quietly.
Laria blinked in shock. "Impossible!" she argued. "A guardian beast—whether common-level or classic-level—naturally forms at birth. It binds itself to the soul of a newborn, becoming a lifelong protector."
Daryl exhaled slowly, his small hands tightening into fists. "That's why I'm an anomaly." His voice wavered, his pain evident. "I was just… born differently. A Guardianless criminal, as the Ghost Land king called me."
Silence.
The weight of his words settled over the group like a thick fog.
Jasmin and Laria exchanged troubled glances, wondering how a child had managed to survive all these years alone in a world where power equaled survival—to survive without the one thing that defined human existence.
Nebula, however, remained still, his eyes fixed on Daryl with an intensity that spoke of understanding.
And then, he asked the question no one else had.
"What about your family?" he inquired gently. "Parents? Relatives?"
Daryl's shoulders tensed.
"I have none," he said, his voice distant, hollow. "I never knew my parents… only the companion of loneliness in the orphanage."
That was it.
Nebula felt it—the familiar ache of being cast aside by the world. The pain of longing for something he never had.
A quiet sigh escaped him before he took a step forward.
Then, without a word, he knelt down and pulled Daryl into a firm, warm embrace.
The boy's breath hitched.
For a moment, he remained rigid… but then, like a dam breaking, he collapsed into Nebula's hold, his small hands clutching onto the fabric of Nebula's coat as silent tears streamed down his face.
Nebula's voice was soft, steady.
"You have us now, kid."
Daryl's shoulders trembled.
"You're no longer alone."
The embrace lasted a moment longer before Jasmin's voice cut through the emotion-filled silence with a question aimed at Nebula. "So," he began, "What do you plan on doing now?"
Nebula gently pulled away from Daryl, exhaling as he straightened. He glanced at Jasmin, then at the tent entrance—where Naritsa had just arrived.
Her elegant stride carried her inside, and adorned on her head was the gift he had given her—a finely crafted witch's hat. It suited her perfectly, the high-quality fabric accentuating her regal beauty. But what caught Nebula off guard wasn't just the sight of her wearing it—it was the way she kept glancing at him shyly, her face tinged with the faintest hint of pink.
She gave a small, almost hesitant smile. A silent yet clear thank you.
Nebula, caught for a second, responded with a subtle nod and a smirk before regaining his composure.
Then, he turned his gaze toward the depths of the forest, his grey eyes gleaming with determination. "I plan to stop the Gog Empire's terror, " he declared. "However, my strength alone isn't enough. We need allies—fighters willing to rise against their cruelty."
Naritsa, still lightly touching the brim of her new hat, raised an inquisitive brow. "Then how do we find these potential allies?"
Nebula's gaze remained on the distant horizon, beyond the trees, beyond the unknown.
"By heading further north," he clenched his fists. "We find those who share in our vision. We fight. And…" He exhaled. "I will free my people—the Mapolians—from captivity."
The camp fell silent.
******