Chapter 53: Ripples Beneath the Surface
The mist thinned as they walked, revealing slivers of sunlight spilling through the trees. Waker kept stealing glances sideways at the girl—she was still silent, and still strangely calm. Her steps were steady, and her posture composed. For someone claiming to remember nothing, her steps unhurried yet never faltering.
Waker sighed. His sense of direction was all but useless in this misty forest. If not for her uncanny way of sensing the surroundings—perhaps some hidden Essence Aspect—he'd probably be walking in circles until nightfall without even realising it.
He imagined losing her in this fog and shuddered as he would lose himself in this forest. Without her, he'd be hopelessly lost in the misty forest.
"What should I call you, then?" he finally asked at last.
She tilted her head, considering the question far longer than seemed normal. "Call me … whatever you want."
"That's not really how names work Ms.Whatever you want," Waker said, smirking.
Her lips curved faintly, almost like she'd been expecting that, he wasn't sure if it was real. "Then … pick one for now. Until I remember."
"Alright … Nyra," he said after a moment's thought.
"Nyra," she echoed, testing the word. "It will do."
They stopped under the sprawling roots of an ancient tree, where Waker pulled out dried rations. He handed her a share, and she accepted with a slight bow.
"Thank you. For this … and for saving me."
"Don't mention it," Waker said, settling down. "Honestly, I'm surprised there were only three of them at that camp."
He bit into a strip of dried fruit. He thought maybe, just maybe, talking would jog her memory.
"Where are you from?" Nyra asked suddenly, curiosity sparking in her onyx eyes.
Waker choked, coughing until bits of fruit sprayed the ground. "Uh—Antiarena City. But I was born in Rashonbound, located near the borders of the Convert Empire of Armain. My parents … " He paused, frowning. "Huh. I never actually asked them where they came from. Pretty sure it's not Rashonbound."
A strange pulse stirred in his mind. He felt his Essence Core which was technically not possible to sense or feel—flared into awareness. He stared inward, spotting a faint golden coating over it. Suddenly, a searing ache tore through him, making him shiver.
"Waker?" Nyra's voice softened.
He blinked. "Sorry. Just … distracted." He hesitated, then handed her the two sickles. "You should carry these as a protection. Who knows what would happen at the next moment?"
It didn't take long for trouble to test their surviving capabilities. Two forest hounds prowled close, but Nyra sensed them before they could even close in and pounced on them. Waker's yellow-green grass lashed out from his palms, chasing the beasts away into the fog. He felt his movements stronger, and sharper—as if his Talent had grown, and he also felt his Essence Aspect - the yellow-green grass pulsed with new vigor.
By noon, the trees gave way to rolling green fields, and beyond that lay Fontarin City in all its shimmering glory.
Bridges arched gracefully over flowing canals. Stone towers rose like spires crowned with fountains whose sprays caught the light in shifting colors. The whole city shimmered, cradled by the river it stood upon.
"It almost looks like it's floating," Waker murmured.
But as they approached, Waker noticed something odd—the streets near the outskirts seemed too quiet. The rush of water filled the air, yet there was no chatter, no footsteps, no marketplace noise, and no bustle of people.
"Is it a holiday or something?" he muttered.
Nyra's gaze swept the surroundings with a sharpness that didn't fit someone with "no memories." Her eyes lingered on the rooftops, on the shadowed arches of the bridges. Her voice was low, but certain. "We're being watched."
Waker froze. "Where?"
Before she could answer, a splash echoed from a nearby canal. Something dark slipped under the water, ripples spreading toward them.
Waker reached for Ravi's sword. The water erupted, and three figures in scale-like armor burst forth, wielding curved tridents. Their helmets were shaped like snarling fish heads, and their movements were unnaturally fluid—as if the water still clung to them.
One of them hissed in a language Waker didn't know.
"They're not human," Nyra murmured, calm in a way that made Waker uneasy.
The lead attacker lunged, trident aimed for Waker's chest. Steel met steel as Waker parried, the impact sending a jolt up his arm. His yellow-green grass shot forward, but the creature twisted bonelessly, flowing back like a water itself.
Nyra's sickles flashed, but she held back, her eyes locked on the attackers' movements—as if memorizing them. The other two circled, cutting off escape.
A sudden whistle cut through the air. The three armored figures froze, then melted back into the canals as quickly as they had come.
From the far side of the bridge, a tall figure with silver eyes approached. Draped in flowing blue robes stitched with silver patterns like curling waves. His lower face was hidden behind a mask shaped like a serene, smiling tide engraved with wavy patterns.
"Welcome to Fontarin City," the masked figure said, his voice smooth and apologizing. "We're just trying to recheck the defending mechanism of the city … There is no intention of us to harm you sir."
Waker glared. "You test your system by trying to impale travelers?"
The masked man sighed. "I'm really sorry, I just followed the orders of my higher ups ... If we told travelers in advance, then we couldn't measure their true reaction and capabilities of our system."
Waker hesitated … then sighed. " … Good point."
But as they followed him into the city, Waker noticed Nyra glance back at the canal. Her gaze lingered too long on the place where the ripples had vanished.