The desert road turned violet as night fell. A line of wagons creaked northward, torches throwing orange light onto the dunes. Not merchants—candidates. You could hear it in their voices: a Janoan boy bragging about his rank, a Vinlan girl sharpening a wooden blade, Rajistani twins tapping nervous rhythms on the floorboards. Hope and noise heading toward Chun.
Kai sat in the middle of the convoy, ribs aching, shoulders tight. Wearing plain travel clothes, simple enough even out here. He took a slow breath. Bodhira was behind him. Chun was ahead.
At the front, a quiet man walked, making conversation fall silent wherever he went. Mushi Katana, a Silver Seeker. Plain robes. Curved blade riding low. The weapon looked ready to be drawn at any moment.
Where Mushi was silent, his squad was not.
"Place your bets," James called, jogging backward with a grin and flashing steel gauntlets. "Who'll cry first when the dunes turn rough?"
Lisa chuckled softly, her laugh rippling like a breeze that made the wagon boards hum. "Half of them already are. Shh, it's cute."
Mustafa clicked his tongue. Lean, dusty, patient. "If either of you kept an eye on the horizon as much as your mouths, I'd retire happy."
The wagon eased up. People laughed because the three of them made it easy.
The door to Kai's carriage slid open. A girl climbed in—light hair catching torchlight like wire. She set her pack down opposite him, back straight.
Outside, Mushi didn't turn. His voice carried anyway. "You two share. Guild's choice. If you can't stand each other here, you won't in Chun."
Kai blinked. "You decide that?"
"Me," Mushi said.
The girl folded her arms. "Heads up, monk. I don't slow down. If you slip, I won't wait."
Her tone was steel. Her eyes weren't cruel—just used to heat.
Kai smiled despite his ribs. "Fair. Don't be surprised if I don't slow either."
One corner of her mouth lifted before she looked out the slats again.
Torches bobbed like stars. For a moment, the line of wagons felt like a moving festival.
Shadows followed them anyway.
Bandits.
The jungle took them suddenly. Roots, black mud, wet air. Horses blew hard. Guards from everywhere—Britannian halberds, Rajistani fire-hands, Vinlan axes, Chun spears—tightened ranks.
"Too quiet," James muttered, flexing.
Lisa's hum sharpened, slicing through the torchlight. "Not quiet. Listening."
Mustafa tapped his staff once. "They're here."
The treeline erupted.
Masks, rusted spears, bad blades, cheap tricks. Screams.
The convoy stopped abruptly.
A Britannian halberdier caught the first clash and held it. A second raider slipped in—met James's fist and a rib-crack that sounded like a tree branch. "One," James grinned.
Lisa planted her feet and screamed—a clear, narrow note. A bandit's sword shivered apart; he dropped, ears bleeding.
Mustafa slid along a spear and snapped the man's chin up. "Down."
And then the moment that made the jungle go quiet.
Mushi stepped into the mud like he'd been doing all night. Hands loose, eyes half-closed, breeze on his cheek.
The blade whispered free.
One body opened from collar to hip. Click. The sword was back in its sheath, the man still falling.
The second bandit froze—he hadn't seen the cut, only the end of it. He lunged anyway. Mushi drew again. Flat arc. Weapon parted first, then throat. No words.
Kai's breath hitched. "He... cuts like distance isn't real."
The girl's voice stayed low. "Spatial work. He doesn't rush. He shortens the space between start and finish."
Chaos continued around them. Fire lit the trees, axes clashed. Chun pairs moved like clockwork—parry, step, stab.
Bandits pressed harder. Their captain—big, loud, rune-sword humming—roared.
Lisa ripped a second note, breaking a charge. James ran through two at once. Mustafa made three men regret standing up.
Mushi didn't move.
The captain swung his sword down.
Mushi's eyes opened.
One breath. The sound of the draw like silk tearing.
Space folded.
Eight slashes rippled from him. You didn't see them until bodies started to fall. The air looked cut. Trees hissed.
The captain stared at his halved blade like it betrayed him, then faced the mud without ceremony.
Click.
Silence returned. Blood, wet leaves. Guards tightened ranks and swept away stragglers.
Inside Kai's carriage, candidates whispered quietly, hungry. "Silver—Yamata no Orochi—"
Kai leaned back, ribs hot, smile fierce. "So that's the path."
The girl didn't look at him. "That was a skirmish. Don't get drunk on it."
Heavy footsteps approached, steady, off-beat on purpose.
Torchlight illuminated a tall man in a tattered cloak. Armor half-buckled. Flask dangling.
Captain Darius King. Gold Seeker.
He squinted at all of them as if the night had personally wronged him, took a sip that made him cough, nearly dropping the flask. "By the Wheel's backside, you look like you saw Molok naked."
A guard snapped a salute. "Captain! Silver Seeker Mushi secured—"
Darius waved with the bottle. "Aye, aye. Shadow boy drew pretty lines, Bronze screamed on key, Irons broke heads, guards did the dance. I supervised the flask."
The younger ones blinked. Gold. Drunk?
Darius ambled toward Mushi, lifting the flask in salute. "Clean work. Almost spilled."
Mushi, sword wiped and sheathed, said nothing.
Darius turned to the wagons, his grin lazy but his eyes sharp. They lingered on two.
The girl in Kai's carriage—sitting tall, lightning still dancing beneath her skin. The monk—sweat, bruises, umtra held neat and tight.
They hadn't moved. They'd been one breath from it.
He laughed loudly and foolishly, on purpose. "Well! Bandits dead, jungle smoking, hero too drunk to help. Remember me as the man who saved the convoy with a flask!"
Nervous chuckles turned to real laughter. Faces relaxed.
Darius leaned on Kai's wagon. "You two are surprisingly calm for kids who almost peed. What's the trick? Chanting? Not seeing the big man with the axe?"
"I saw him," Kai said.
"We knew the squad had it," the girl said, dry. "That's their job."
Darius let out a deep laugh and patted the boards. "Sharp tongue. Calm eyes. Good mix. Don't mistake 'calm' for 'safe.' Fear's normal. Only fools skip it."
He pushed off, still smiling but clear-eyed. These two aren't green. The boy stays steady. The girl holds her storm. The road just got interesting.
He lifted the flask high. "Alright, hopefuls! Bandits done, drinks alive, next stop New Relhi! Pray for a boring road!"
The line of wagons laughed enough to move again. Wheels squeaked. Torches steadied. Mushi took the lead. Darius drifted, swaying like a bad song.
Kai exhaled and let himself relax against the wood. Pain hummed; something brighter underneath.
Across from him, the girl sat straight, hair catching stray firelight.
He said, "You were calm."
"I've seen worse."
"I haven't," he admitted, then smiled. "I want to. Not just fights. All of it. Roads until they run out."
She studied him. "Most people want to survive. You talk like you want... more."
"I do." His gaze didn't waver. "I want to be the strongest Seeker. Strong enough to stand where no one else can. Strong enough that the world remembers."
Her mouth tipped at one edge. "Bold talk for someone who hasn't passed the exam."
"Every mountain starts with a first step."
Her eyes softened, barely. "People don't say things like that out loud."
"Maybe they should."
The carriage swayed. This quiet felt good.
"You're reckless," she said. "Maybe not wrong."
He leaned back, ribs complaining, heart light. For the first time off the mountain, he felt the shape of a friend.
Through the slats, faint gold pricked the horizon.
The girl saw it first. "New Relhi."
Kai looked. Far lights burning like a second sky.
The convoy kept rolling. The old capital waited just beyond the dark. Wonder held.