Will Keeps adjusted the strap of his satchel as he stepped out of the narrow courtyard, pausing just long enough to turn back.
His mother stood in the doorway of their modest home, hands folded together, her shoulders a little too thin beneath her worn shawl. She smiled at him, tired but genuine, the kind of smile that tried very hard not to worry.
"I'll be back before dark," Will said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
"Don't rush," she replied softly. "And don't argue with anyone important."
Will grinned. "I never do."
She raised an eyebrow in clear disbelief, but waved him off all the same.
Will turned and headed toward the inner city, his steps light despite the familiar knot of tension that always came with crossing that invisible line. He was in a good mood today. Better than usual, actually.
First lecture with Elder Grigs.
That alone made it special.
He would have gone to fetch Malichi too, if he could. The thought crossed his mind as it often did. But even Will knew better than to try. The son of the clan head lived in a different world, one guarded by walls both seen and unseen.
Zareck, at least, was reachable.
Even if getting to him meant enduring a few looks.
The streets grew wider as Will approached the inner city gates, stonework cleaner, formations more tightly woven into the architecture. Two guards straightened as he approached, eyes narrowing instinctively.
One of them frowned. "Inner city is restricted."
Will stopped politely and bowed. "Yes, sir. I'm here to fetch Zareck Hans for Elder Grigs' lecture."
The guard hesitated, clearly weighing whether it was worth the trouble.
Then recognition flickered.
"…You're Keeps' boy," the second guard said slowly. "The one who serves the clan head."
Will smiled easily. "That's me."
The first guard sighed. "You're cutting it close."
"I always do."
A beat passed. Then the guard waved him through. "Don't linger."
"I won't," Will promised, already moving past them.
The tension drained from his shoulders as soon as he was inside.
The inner city felt different, quieter, heavier, like the air itself expected more from you. That didn't stop Will as he whistled softly as he walked, hands tucked into his sleeves, eyes wandering over tiled roofs and spirit-lamps that glimmered faintly even in daylight.
He liked this place, even if it didn't like him much back.
Zareck's house came into view soon enough, standing apart from the clustered residences around it.
Will neared, when a voice called out.
"Well, look who wandered into the wrong part of the city."
Will stopped.
He turned slowly.
Three boys stood near the edge of the street, all around his age. They wore fresh robes, cleaner than Will's, their postures loose but deliberate. Disciples.
The same generation.
They would have been in the same group that received their cultivation manuals three days ago.
Will recognized one of them, barely. A distant branch member. Not important. The others were strangers, but their eyes carried the same look.
Measuring.
"Hey," Will said cheerfully. "If you're lost, the outer city's that way."
The boy in front snorted. "Funny."
Will tilted his head. "I try."
Their smiles didn't reach their eyes.
"You're Keeps' son, right?" another boy said. "The servant's kid."
Will's grin softened, just a touch. "That's me."
"And you're walking around the inner city like you belong here."
Will shrugged. "I walk where my legs take me."
The first boy stepped closer.
"Funny thing," he said. "We've all started cultivating now."
Will felt it then.
That faint pressure. Unrefined. Uneven. But real.
So they had too.
"That is funny," Will replied, still smiling. "Congratulations."
They didn't laugh.
"You've always walked around like you're one of us," the boy continued. "Standing next to Malichi Hans."
Will's eyes flicked briefly toward Zareck's house, then back to them. "He is my friend."
"Friend," the boy repeated, tasting the word. "Everyone knows he just hangs out with you cos he feels sorry for a lowborn like yourself"
Will's smile faded.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But then he'd surly have tried to befriend you all even more so, no?"
The third boy cracked his knuckles. "You've got nerve."
Will sighed. "And you've got poor timing. I'm already late."
The first boy's eyes hardened. "This won't take long."
Will straightened, hands lowering from his sleeves.
For the first time, there was no humour in his expression.
"Then make it quick," he said. "I've heard Elder Grigs hates interruptions."
The air tightened.
And somewhere behind him, Zareck Hans' door stood closed, unaware that trouble had decided to arrive early.
Will Keeps moved first.
The moment the tension sharpened into certainty, he ran.
Not away.
Toward them.
The three boys flinched for half a heartbeat, surprise flashing across their faces. They had expected hesitation. Fear. Maybe a shouted threat or a call for help.
Will gave them none of it.
As he charged forward, something shifted around him, subtle, but unmistakable. A thin pressure rolled off his body, uneven and raw, like heat rising from stone under the sun.
Level One of the Body Forging Realm.
The aura wasn't strong. It wasn't refined.
But it was real.
The last traces of doubt vanished from the boys' expressions, replaced by grins edged with excitement.
"Level One," one of them said, almost relieved. "Same as us."
Will scoffed as he closed the distance. "Figures."
So that was it.
They really weren't here for revenge. Or justice. Or even real malice.
They just wanted to try it.
Three days of cultivation. Three days of feeling stronger than they ever had in their lives. Three days of wanting to know what that strength meant when measured against another body.
If it hadn't been Will, it would've been someone else.
Some other branch kid. Some servant's child.
That thought weighed more on his mind than the threat in front of him.
The first boy lunged, leading with a clumsy punch, spiritual energy surging into his arm without restraint. It was powerful, stronger than an ordinary strike, but sloppy, overcommitted.
Will slid inside the arc of the punch instead of backing away.
He stepped into danger.
His shoulder slammed forward, just enough to knock the boy off balance. At the same time, Will's foot hooked behind the boy's ankle and yanked.
The boy hit the ground hard, breath exploding from his lungs in a wheeze.
"What—?"
The second boy reacted immediately, swinging low, aiming for Will's ribs. Will twisted, letting the strike glance off his forearm instead of absorbing it fully. Pain flared, but he used it.
He grabbed the attacker's wrist, stepped past him, and pulled, redirecting the boy's own momentum straight into his fallen friend.
They collided in an awkward heap.
The third boy hesitated.
That was his mistake.
Will snatched a loose pebble from the ground and flicked it. It struck the boy square in the throat, enough to make him gasp reflexively.
Will was on him instantly.
He drove his elbow into the boy's collarbone, then followed with a knee to the thigh. His balance failed him. The boy collapsed with a cry, leg buckling beneath him.
Will stepped back, breathing hard.
All three were down.
Not unconscious.
But stunned. Scrambling. And most importantly suddenly unsure.
"You're all using the Hans Flower Technique," Will said, voice tight but controlled. "Balanced. Even. Safe."
He flexed his fingers, ignoring the sting in his arm. "You gathered energy evenly. You strike evenly. You think evenly."
One of the boys glared up at him and shouted in indignation. "We're the same realm!"
Will met his gaze. "Yeah."
Then he added quietly, "But not the same fight." (He thought that sounded cool).
The boy tried to stand. Will planted a foot on his chest and pushed him back down.
"Listen carefully," Will said, eyes cold now. "I'm not your enemy. But I won't be your test either."
The three boys exchanged glances, bravado cracking.
"You won," one muttered bitterly.
Will shook his head. "No. I finished it before it got stupid."
He stepped away, giving them space to recover.
"Next time," he said over his shoulder, "pick someone who wants to prove something."
He turned and walked toward Zareck's house, pulse still racing, heart heavier than before.
Behind him, no one followed.
The inner city was quiet again.
But Will Keeps no longer whistled as he went.