The forest was quiet again.
Smoke floated low over the clearing, smelling like burnt mana and blood. Julian walked over to the first dead Howler—the one that had almost killed him. Its chest still smoked from the lightning burn, its fur blackened around the wound.
He got down beside it, breathing slowly. "You were fast," he said to himself.
He held out his hand and flames appeared around his palm. They weren't wild or bright, just steady. He pressed the fire against the beast's horns, the heat spreading as red lines glowed through the black surface until the horn cracked. He pulled it off while it was still warm.
"Sorry," he said. "I need it more than you do."
He went to the second body. This one had fallen face-first with its jaw broken where it hit a rock. Julian did the same thing—steady fire and slow cuts. The smell of burning hair and blood filled the cold air as he tried not to breathe it in.
When all four horns were on the floor, he stood up and wiped the sweat from his face. "Two done," he said. "That should count."
He raised his right hand again.
A symbol appeared in front of his palm—a circle with spinning runes inside it. The horns glowed before shrinking into small crystals that floated into the rune and disappeared.
[Acquired: Howler Horn ×2]
[Stored in Inventory]
The message faded as Julian let out a tired breath. "At least that still works."
He walked toward the sound of running water. A few minutes later, he found a river cutting through the trees, the water calm and silver under the moonlight. He sat down on a large rock by the edge and looked down at his arm.
A deep cut ran from his elbow to his wrist, dried blood covering his skin. It stung when he moved it.
He laughed a little. "My mother's going to kill me," he said. "Again."
Erevos' voice came, low and calm.
"Pain is the tutor of strength. Every scar you earn is a lesson in survival."
Julian made a sound. "Try telling that to her. She lectures harder than you do."
Silence fell before the Relic made a faint hum that got louder. Symbols appeared in front of him.
[System Function: Auto-Heal – Activated]
[Reconstruction Progress: 12%... 47%... 100%]
Light wrapped around his arm, soft and white. He watched with wide eyes as the wound closed, the skin coming back together while the blood disappeared. In seconds, his arm looked normal again.
He jumped up. "What—? How did you do that?" He looked around like Erevos might suddenly appear next to him.
The voice answered, still smooth.
"The relic is bound to your life force. When the body weakens, it restores balance."
Julian blinked. "That's… not an answer."
Erevos made a short hum. "That is the one you're getting."
"Yeah sure," Julian said, brushing dirt from his hands. "Real helpful."
No reply came this time, just the sound of the river and the wind through the leaves.
Julian sighed and stretched his arm before starting to walk back toward the village path.
---
A short distance away, three figures stood behind some trees, their hoods covering their faces while their silver eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
They'd been watching him since the fight.
The tallest one—Ruven—lowered his hood first, his pointed ears catching the moonlight as his silver hair fell over his shoulders. "So," he said quietly, "he can use Spatial magic… and now healing too."
The second man, Tarron, frowned, his voice lower and steadier. "Looks like it. Maybe Arc Two. Could be Three."
Ruven smirked. "I'd say Three. Or Four if we're lucky."
The third figure was a young woman with sharp green eyes who lowered her hood next. Elora's voice sounded curious. "But who's he talking to all the time?"
Ruven shrugged. "No idea. Maybe he's got mental issues."
Tarron gave him a flat look. "Do not forget who you're talking about, Ruven. He's your prince."
Ruven rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Prince or not, talking to invisible voices doesn't sound royal to me."
Elora smirked a little but her eyes stayed on Julian, his shape fading in the distance. "Still… he's different. I felt it when that shield appeared. That wasn't normal mana."
Tarron nodded slowly. "No. It wasn't."
Ruven stretched and cracked his neck. "Well, guess we'll find out soon."
Tarron looked once more at where Julian had gone before saying quietly, "Let's follow him before he gets too far."
The other two nodded as their forms blurred a little, mana running over their bodies before they disappeared into the trees, following Julian's trail.
The forest swallowed the sound of their steps, leaving only the wind and the river.
---
Deep under Acadia, in the lower tunnels of the Spire Catacombs, the air smelled like stone, blood, and sweat.
Chains rattled in the dark, heavy ones marked with glowing runes.
The man from the inn was strapped to the wall, his wrists chained above his head. Blood ran down his arms and chest while his shirt was torn open from the beating. His face was swollen with one eye barely open.
This was Reinard—the same man who'd stayed behind at the inn.
Five Black Sigil soldiers were in the room with him. One of them dropped a blood-covered spike back onto a table full of torture tools as the air smelled like blood and metal.
The door opened with a heavy sound.
Three men walked in. The one in front wore a long black coat with the Black Sigil mark across his chest. The soldiers in the room stood up straight right away.
"Captain Monrel," one of them said. "He still hasn't said anything."
Monrel walked closer until he stopped right in front of Reinard. He looked at him for a moment before smirking.
"How the mighty have fallen," he said slowly. "You know, there was a time I used to look up to you, Captain Reinard. Or should I say… ex-captain."
Reinard lifted his head as blood ran from his lip. "Still as arrogant as ever, Monrel. Some people change for the better with time. You just rotter instead."
Monrel laughed quietly. "From where I stand, I don't think you're in a position to insult anyone. Then again, it doesn't really matter." He moved closer. "What matters is what I need."
He stopped just a few inches from Reinard's face. "Tell me where the Scryer are hiding. And who knows, maybe I'll be generous. Maybe I'll even end your suffering."
Reinard coughed and spat blood at Monrel's boots. "Do your worst, Monrel. You're not getting anything from me."
Monrel's smile disappeared as his eyes went cold. "Fine. Suit yourself."
He turned to the soldiers. "You may resume."
Then he walked out.
As Monrel left the room, Reinard screamed, the sound echoing through the stone halls as the door shut heavily behind him.
---
Note: In this world, everyone has their own inventory. It is tied to their Magic, hence why the "inventory" wasn't bold-lettered for Julian.