The cart creaked as it rolled forward, carrying them away from the quiet edge of the road and toward the distant silhouette of Asterwyn's outer walls.
Cael sat across from the elf girl, trying to look calmer than he felt.
His body still hurt.
Not the clean kind of pain you could ignore with enough stubbornness. This was the messy kind—deep bruising under the skin, a shoulder that felt slightly wrong when he shifted, cuts that pulled every time he moved his hands. Even breathing too deeply reminded him of what the guardian's strike had done.
But he was alive.
That mattered more than comfort.
The elf sat with one leg tucked beneath her, arms loosely folded, watching the passing scenery like she belonged on the road. She looked too relaxed for someone traveling alone, and that alone told Cael how dangerous she really was.
Or how protected she'd been raised to be.
A disguised princess.
A title that sounded like fiction, yet here she was—quietly hiding in plain sight.
Cael kept his gaze outside the cart, letting the world pass by while his mind worked.
He had six days.
Not seven anymore.
Six days until the academy gates opened, and six days until the world decided whether Cael Thornwood was worth keeping alive.
The idea would've terrified El.
But Cael… Cael felt something else.
A calm that wasn't peace.
A calm that came from already knowing how cruel the story could get.
He rubbed his thumb lightly over the bandage around his palm. Beneath it, tucked close to his body, the Seed of Irregular Growth felt warm—faint, steady, like a quiet heartbeat that didn't match his own.
It was still bonding.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
But it was there.
Cael stared at the distant road, then lowered his eyes and whispered inside his own head.
Plan.
He couldn't afford randomness.
If he wanted S-Class, he needed to fight the week like a war.
He began listing the steps silently, like a prayer written in numbers.
Day 1: heal enough to move properly.
Day 2: stamina training, mana circulation drills.
Day 3: weapon adaptation—something light, something fast.
Day 4: sparring, even if he loses. Losing teaches timing.
Day 5: challenge a mid-tier trial beast for battle experience.
Day 6: rest just enough not to collapse on exam day.
It was brutal.
It was barely possible.
And it was the only way.
The cart hit a bump. His ribs protested.
The elf's eyes flicked toward him immediately, sharp as a blade.
"You're planning something," she said.
Cael blinked. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yes," she replied without hesitation. "Your face looks like a merchant counting coins."
That almost made him smile.
Almost.
But his mind didn't have room for humor yet.
"What's your name?" he asked instead, keeping his voice casual.
She paused for half a second too long.
Then she leaned back like she didn't care.
"Serel," she said. "Just Serel."
Cael nodded slowly, pretending to accept it.
A lie.
A simple lie.
Not malicious—necessary.
He understood that kind of lie better than anyone.
He didn't call her out. Didn't push. Didn't corner her with what he knew.
That wasn't how you earned trust in a world built on survival.
Instead he lowered his gaze again, mind drifting, and with it… memories came.
Not his own memories.
Not truly.
Memories from the game.
From routes.
From stories that had once been entertainment and were now a map of tragedies waiting to happen.
Five heroines.
Each with her own arc. Her own wound. Her own villain waiting like a shadow behind her.
Serelith—the elf princess in disguise—was only one of them.
Cael swallowed.
If he played this wrong, their arcs wouldn't just be "sad backstories."
They'd become funerals.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he reviewed them in his mind, one by one.
The first that surfaced was Iris Nocturne.
Demonkin. Shadowblood. Curse mage.
In the game, she was introduced like a nightmare—cold eyes, sharp words, a presence that made NPCs whisper and step away. She didn't trust anyone, didn't love anyone, didn't care about lives that weren't useful.
Except… she latched onto the protagonist after a specific event.
A survival moment.
A moment where someone didn't look at her like a monster.
Her arc was the darkest.
It wasn't about getting stronger.
It was about deciding whether she would remain human at all.
And behind Iris, like a disease walking in human form, was her villain—
The Curse Shepherd.
A man who didn't kill people because he hated them.
He did it because he wanted to understand how they broke.
Cael's fingers tightened unconsciously.
I won't let him touch her.
Even thinking it made his chest feel tight.
Then came Lady Elowen Mirelle.
Human noble. Knight-blooded. Discipline carved into her spine like scripture.
In the game, she looked perfect at first glance: honor, pride, a blade that never shook.
But she wasn't perfect.
She was trapped.
Her arc was political warfare disguised as "academy life."
House pressure. Engagement threats. A family that smiled while sharpening knives behind her back.
And her villain wasn't a monster.
That was the worst part.
Her villain wore a noble crest.
The Mirelle Traitor Lord.
A man who would sacrifice his own bloodline for power.
Cael exhaled slowly through his nose.
That kind of enemy is harder than demons.
The third face in his mind wasn't from Year 1.
It was a junior.
A future troublemaker.
Mira Ashwind.
Beastkin ranger. Wild instincts. Freedom addict.
In the game she arrived later, crashing into the story like a storm—too loud, too bold, too alive. The kind of girl who laughed during danger and carried pain like it didn't matter.
Her arc was about chains.
Beastkin slavery hunters.
The kind of people who called it "business."
Her villain was simple, but brutal.
The Beast Collar Warlord.
Someone who believed living things were property if they were weak enough to capture.
Cael's jaw tightened.
His world—Earth, Elaris—it didn't matter.
People like that always existed.
And then…
The last heroine.
The one who didn't appear like a warrior at first.
The one who made destiny uncomfortable.
Saintess Althena Lucienne.
Celestian blood. Holy sight. Inner-shell vision.
In the game, she was a "support route."
A healer.
A truth-seer.
But in reality, Cael knew she was the most dangerous one to him—not because she would hurt him…
But because she might see through him.
She might look at him and realize something was wrong.
Not his body.
His soul.
Her arc was about faith.
And her villain was wearing the same white robes she wore.
The White Inquisitor.
A man who believed "purity" was permission to murder anyone who didn't fit the prophecy.
Cael's throat tightened.
If Althena ever looked at him properly…
She would see the light inside him.
The damage.
The scars that didn't belong to one lifetime.
She would ask questions he couldn't answer.
Cael blinked, pulling himself back to the present.
Serel—Serelith—was still watching him.
"What's that face for?" she asked, head tilted. "You look like you're about to walk into a battlefield."
Cael hesitated.
Then he gave the safest truth he could.
"I am."
Serel frowned, but didn't argue.
Instead she shifted slightly and reached into her bag, tossing him a small pouch.
"Here," she said. "You're going to need that."
Cael caught it awkwardly with his injured arm. Inside, he felt coins clink softly.
He stared, confused.
"I can't—"
"Don't," she cut him off instantly. "Don't say the annoying proud thing. Consider it repayment for ruining my day by almost dying."
Cael let out a quiet breath.
He looked at the pouch in his hand like it weighed more than it should.
It wasn't the coins.
It was the fact that someone had given him something without demanding payment first.
He hadn't experienced that much. Not as El.
Not ever.
Cael tucked the pouch away slowly. "Thank you."
Serel waved a hand as if she didn't care, then looked away.
But her ears—barely visible under her hair—turned faintly pink.
Cael's chest tightened again.
That strange longing.
That quiet pull.
He didn't understand it.
But he could feel it shaping itself into something dangerous.
Something he couldn't afford.
And yet…
Somewhere deep inside, the Seed pulsed softly again, like it was listening.
The System flickered into view for a brief second.
[New Quest Available.][Trigger: Bonded Ally Detected.][Quest Name: "Do Not Walk Alone."]
Cael stared at it.
His fingers froze around the edge of the blanket.
Then, as quickly as it appeared, the window vanished—like the System had whispered it only to him.
Cael lowered his gaze.
His heartbeat slowed.
And for the first time since he woke up in this world…
he felt something that wasn't fear.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't exhaustion.
It was the faint, frightening warmth of a thought he hadn't allowed himself to have.
Maybe… I don't have to do everything alone.