I went to see Elder Caelum two days after we returned.
Not immediately. I needed a day to rest first, to let my body stop pretending it was fine. Another to think. Astrae and I talked late into the night, quietly, carefully, circling around the same conclusion without saying it outright. Hearthroot was useful, but it was small. Safe. Limited.
If we wanted answers, real ones, we needed to move.
That meant two things.
First, information. Second, leverage. Standing was leverage.
Elder Caelum lived where he always had, far from the busy roads and far from the noise of town. His home sat at the edge of Hearthroot where stone gave way to old growth roots and half-buried ruins that no one bothered to clear anymore. It did not look like the dwelling of a legendary assessor. It looked like a place someone went to be forgotten.
Astrae stopped at the edge of the path.
"I'll wait here," she said.
"You don't want to come in?" I asked.
She glanced at the door, then back at me, her expression neutral. "I don't enjoy pointless conversations."
That was fair. There's really nothing for her to know the old man assessor.
As I stepped forward, I felt Caelum's attention before he opened the door. Not magic. Not pressure. Just awareness, sharp and unpleasant, like stepping into a gaze you did not want.
The door opened before I knocked.
He looked exactly the same as before. Small, hunched, wrapped in layered robes that had once been fine and now existed somewhere between practical and stubborn. His eyes, however, were sharp enough to cut.
"You," he said flatly, although I feel he's already expecting me. "Why are you here?"
I bowed my head slightly. "I need a reassessment."
"No," Caelum said immediately. "You don't."
I straightened then answered with subtle stuborness. "I do."
He snorted and turned, already walking back inside. "I am no longer an active assessor. I told you that the first time. I do not handle Standing changes. I do not certify progression. And I certainly do not do it for Crossers who wander into trouble and expect paperwork to catch up."
I followed him anyway. "I know. That's why I came to you."
He stopped mid-step and turned slowly.
"That is not a compliment."
"I didn't mean it as one," I said. "I don't want anyone else looking at my status."
Caelum studied my face, then his gaze drifted past me, toward where Astrae stood outside the boundary stones.
"Who is she?" he asked.
"A companion, someone I met during my recent… journey if you can call it that," I replied.
He hummed quietly, eyes narrowing just a fraction. Then he turned away again. "You attract strange company."
"I've noticed too."
Inside, his home was unchanged. Shelves lined the walls, heavy with records that smelled older than the town itself. No glowing displays. No assistants. No formal assessment circle. Just a worn stone floor and a low table carved with faded sigils.
Caelum sat and gestured for me to stand in front of him.
"You shouldn't be here," he said again, more tired this time. "If anyone notices I reassessed you, it raises questions."
"I know," I said. "That's why I came to you privately."
"And why do you think I would agree?"
"Because you already know my sub-function exists," I answered calmly. "And because you know what would happen if the wrong assessor saw it."
Silence stretched.
Caelum leaned back, exhaled through his nose, and muttered something unkind under his breath.
"And you think I care?" he said with a tsk. "And you haven't even been here a full season."
"I'm sorry but I have no choice."
He waved a hand dismissively. "Apologies are cheap. Explain yourself."
I took a breath. "I was part of the expedition that defeated Kar'thessa."
Caelum's eyes sharpened. "The Queen of Sand?"
"Yes."
"And you lived huh," he said slowly.
"Yes, I am here aren't I?"
"And your Standing has not been updated."
"No. I didn't even try asking another."
He stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head. "Of course it hasn't. Nothing about you is straightforward isn't it?"
He stood and walked toward the back of the room, retrieving a small, worn crystal that did not glow on its own.
"I will reassess you," he said finally. "Not because you asked politely. But because if I do not, someone else will eventually. And I do not trust their discretion as of now, nor do I know if you can defend yourself as you are currently."
Relief settled in my chest, careful and quiet.
"Thank you," I said.
"Do not thank me yet," Caelum replied. "Stand still."
The old assessor closed his eyes, listening to something Theo could not hear. The familiar sensation returned, not pain, not pressure, but a deep internal tug, as if something inside me was being counted against its will.
His expression shifted almost immediately.
"Your intelligence," he said, voice tight. "It has grown again."
I stayed silent.
"And the others," he continued. "Slowly. Frustratingly so. But they have moved at least."
He frowned. "Except luck. Still broken."
"That hasn't changed," I said.
"No," Caelum agreed. "It never does."
"Strength: four," he continued as he state my current stat. "Vitality: six. Agility: four. Dexterity: twelve."
His brow furrowed. "Your dexterity is still tied to cognition rather than movement. As expected."
Then he paused.
"Intelligence: sixty-six."
I exhaled slowly as I check my status changed in front of me.
Strength: 4
Vitality: 6
Agility: 4
Dexterity: 12
Intelligence: 66
Luck: Negative Infinity
"And luck," he finished quietly. "Negative infinity."
Caelum opened his eyes.
"You should be dead," he said stated.
"I hear that a lot."
He shot me a look. "Do not make jokes about things you do not fully understand."
I nodded, biting my inner cheeks to prevent myself to say unnecessary information, before I utter, "Understood."
He stepped closer and raised a hand toward my neck. I felt a brief warmth, then a pressure like ink sinking into skin.
A mark formed just below my left ear. A Standing Mark. Not a tattoo. Not exactly. It felt embedded, like a concept made physical. When he pulled his hand away, the sensation faded, leaving something faint but present.
"High Initiate," Caelum said. "That is as far as I will move you for now. Your contribution against Kar'thessa justifies it."
He met my gaze. "Do not mistake this for safety."
"I won't."
He hesitated, then added, "Your growth is… abnormal. Intelligence at that level with those physical stats is unstable."
"I'm aware."
"And your sub-function," he continued quietly. "It is reacting more frequently."
"It is."
"That concerns me," Caelum said. "Failure Converter was never meant to be leaned on. It is a last-resort function."
"It's the only way I can move forward," I replied.
Caelum studied me again, longer this time. Not as an assessor. As an old man looking at a problem he could not solve.
"You plan to leave Hearthroot," he said.
"Yes."
"Good," he replied. "This place will not hold you for long."
He glanced toward the door again. "Your companion is… dangerous."
"I'm not sure what you're talking about," I said as casually as possible.
"I'm sure you have an idea," Caelum replied. "Be careful what follows you."
I inclined my head. "I will."
As I turned to leave, he spoke again.
"Theo."
I paused.
"Do not rush to fix your luck," he said. "When it breaks, everything else will follow."
I met his eyes. "As you said."
Outside, Astrae was waiting exactly where I left her.
She looked at me once, then tilted her head slightly. "You've improved your stat?"
"A little," I said.
"And you have your Standing Mark?"
"High Initiate."
She nodded, as if filing it away.
"We should go," she said. "This town has given us what it can."
I looked back once at Caelum's door, then turned toward the road.
For the first time since arriving in Aetherfall, my Standing reflected something close to the truth.
Not safety or control but momentum.
And that, I suspected, was far more dangerous.
~~~
I didn't leave Hearthroot quietly.
Not because I wanted a scene, but because I had spent enough time there that disappearing without a word felt wrong. For a place that was supposed to be temporary, it had given me shelter, work, and a strange sense of rhythm. Leaving without acknowledging that felt dishonest.
Nyra was the hardest goodbye. She has been a great help, almost a friend.
She was at her usual spot near the office when I found her, tail flicking as she sorted through slates with practiced ease. She looked up when I approached, eyes narrowing just a little.
"So," she said. "You're really leaving."
"Looks like it," I replied.
She snorted. "About time. I was starting to think you'd grow roots here."
I smiled faintly. "Thanks for everything. The work, the referrals. Putting up with me."
Nyra waved a hand. "You paid on time and didn't cause trouble. That's already better than most." She paused, then added more quietly, "And you're not useless. Don't let the capital grind that out of you."
"I'll try not to."
She leaned back, crossing her arms. "I earned enough from you anyway. Go be important somewhere else."
We exchanged a brief nod. No dramatic farewell. No promises to write. That suited us both.
By the time I reached the gate, Astrae wasn't there yet.
I stood just inside the boundary stones, watching the road stretch out beyond Hearthroot. The world outside the town felt larger than it had when I first arrived. Less forgiving. My stats hadn't changed enough to make that fear go away.
If anything, they made it worse.
Strength four. Vitality six. Agility four.
I exhaled slowly, rubbing my hands together.
"This is stupid," I muttered under my breath. "I'm walking into open land with monsters, low stats, and a death count that keeps climbing."
I tried not to think about how many ways this could go wrong.
Astrae appeared beside me without a sound.
"There's nothing to worry about," she said casually.
I startled despite myself. "You could at least make noise."
She tilted her head. "Why?"
I sighed. "Habit."
She followed my gaze toward the road. "Those creatures you're afraid of? Insignificant. Even with half my power sealed, I could deal with them without opening my eyes."
"That's comforting," I said flatly. "For you."
She smiled, small and sharp. "Your concern should be elsewhere."
"Where exactly?"
"If we run into god-tier mortals who want us dead," Astrae said, tone light. "With my strength limited and you being… you, that would be problematic."
I stared at her. "That's your definition of reassuring?"
She shrugged. "I prefer accuracy."
I rubbed my face. "Let's just hope we don't meet any of those."
"I share that hope," she replied.
Only then did I really look at her.
Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, dark strands neatly tied back instead of hanging loose. She wore a plain robe similar to mine, nothing that stood out, nothing that hinted at what she was. In the morning light, she looked young. Too young.
If someone didn't know better, they'd think she was my younger sister tagging along on a reckless trip.
The thought made my chest tighten.
Depending on her to fight felt wrong. Not because she couldn't, but because she shouldn't have to. Then again, she wasn't a teenager. She was older than my world. Older than most recorded history.
Perspective mattered.
We stepped through the gate together.
The moment we crossed the boundary, Hearthroot felt distant, like a chapter closing behind us. The road ahead was well-worn, marked by countless travelers heading toward the capital. Carts, messengers, lone Wayfarers. Civilization thinned, but it didn't vanish.
Astrae stretched her arms casually. "If we keep moving, we'll reach the capital in less than a day."
I stopped walking.
She took two more steps before noticing, then turned back, confused. "What?"
"No," I said firmly. "Absolutely not."
She blinked. "Not what?"
"Less than a day," I repeated. "Do you want to get trapped in my endless death cycle? Because forcing that pace is how you get trapped in my endless death cycle."
Her lips twitched.
Then she laughed.
Not loud. Not mocking. Just amused.
"You're worried about me?" she asked.
"I'm worried about me," I said. "And you being near me when I collapse."
She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Fair."
"So we're walking," I continued. "At a normal pace. A very slow, very mortal pace."
Astrae smiled. "Sometimes pretending to be mortal is good."
I snorted. "I'm barely pretending. Look at my stats."
"Then pretend to be an invalid mortal," she said lightly. "That can be fun too."
I groaned. "You're enjoying this."
"A little," she admitted.
We started walking again, slower this time. Deliberate. Sustainable.
The road stretched on ahead of us, leading toward the capital and whatever waited there. Answers, maybe. Trouble, definitely.
I didn't feel ready.
But then again, I never did.
And somehow, I kept moving anyway.