Pov - Yoshiya
The soft glow of dawn seeped through the shutters, painting the room in pale gold. I stretched my arms and sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Today wasn't just another day—it was the day we would join the march north.
Outside the house, Omina was already checking on the two boars. Their breaths came out in warm puffs, and they pawed at the dirt, eager and restless. She gave me a quick grin as I approached.
"They're ready," she said, patting one on the flank. "Honestly, they look more excited than you."
"I'm still waking up," I muttered. "Unlike them, I don't snore like a thunderboar."
She shot me a glare. "That was one time."
"Sure it was."
After a quick breakfast, we headed into Orleaf's bustling morning market. The streets were crowded—merchants shouting prices, adventurers haggling, and the smell of roasted bread mixing with steel and leather. Preparations for the northern march were in full swing.
Our first stop was Bren's workshop, where he was waiting with a grin. On the counter were two sturdy pairs of boots made from Taurox hide, reinforced at the heels and toes.
"Finished them last night," Bren said proudly. "Tough as nails. These'll give you damage and knockback resistance while you wear 'em. Perfect for when something twice your size decides to punt you across the battlefield."
Omina picked up her pair, flexing them with both hands. "They're heavier than my last boots."
"Because these won't fly off the moment a kobold tackles you," Bren replied.
I slipped mine on, stomping the ground twice. "They fit like a glove."
"On your feet, genius," Omina deadpanned.
"...You know what I mean."
Before leaving, we also grabbed a fine-grit sharpening stone from Bren's stall. Omina tested it with a few swipes along her blade, the faint rasping sound drawing nods of approval from nearby adventurers.
---
From there, we crossed to Mira's apothecary, a cramped wooden stall packed with herbs and bottles. Her potions were simple but reliable.
"Stocking up again?" Mira asked, hands on her hips.
"Big raid," I said, placing a few empty flasks on the counter.
She nodded and started filling them quickly. "Healing, stamina, or mana?"
"All three," Omina replied. "Preferably without going broke."
"Eight silver," Mira said sweetly.
Omina's eye twitched. "You're robbing us."
"I'm funding my retirement," Mira shot back.
We paid up, though not without a dramatic sigh from Omina. "Goodbye, sweet silver. We barely knew you."
---
As we were leaving, something shiny caught my eye. A small accessory stand was tucked between two larger shops. Among the necklaces and rings hung a simple leather choker with a faintly glowing mana stone.
"How much?" I asked.
"Three silver," the merchant replied. "Extra mana reservoir. Good for mages who don't wanna pass out mid-battle."
I hesitated, then handed over the coins. Omina leaned in with a smirk. "Another accessory? You're starting to look like a noble's son."
"It's called preparation," I shot back. "Not everyone has endless stamina like you."
"Flattery won't make you less squishy," she said.
---
On the way to the guild, we passed by Mako's house. The old village head sat on his bench, watching the busy streets with a faint smile.
"Heading north, are you?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "March starts at midday."
He nodded, eyes distant. "In my youth, wars like this were common. The sound of marching boots brings it all back."
Then his gaze fixed on me. "Yoshiya. You've been training your mana flow, haven't you?"
I blinked. "Uh… yeah."
"If you're confident enough, you can evolve your Protect spell," he said. "Keep the mana flowing steadily, and it'll become Mana Shield. As long as you have mana, no blow will break through."
I felt my heartbeat quicken. A constant shield—something that wouldn't fail in the middle of battle. "Thank you, Mako. I'll practice it."
"You'd better," he said with a chuckle. "You're young. You have time to master what we old fools couldn't."
---
By the time we reached the Orleaf Guild Outpost, the grounds were packed with adventurers—mages, swordsmen, beast tamers—all preparing for the march. Naomi Junjo, the new receptionist, stood on a crate, barking orders like a general.
"Form your squads! Supplies to the left! Check your gear—if you forget something, it's your grave, not mine!"
The atmosphere was electric. Some faces were nervous, but most were determined, even excited. This was their chance to prove themselves—to be heroes defending Korvath.
I glanced at Omina. She adjusted her new boots and cracked her neck. "Feels like the calm before a storm."
"Yeah," I said quietly, tightening my grip on my staff.
By midday, the march north began. The column stretched down the road, banners fluttering in the wind, boots pounding in unison. As Orleaf shrank behind us, I felt a mix of fear and resolve settle in my chest.
"Let's make this count," I murmured.
Omina smirked. "Try to keep up."
The march had begun.