Arin stood still for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the hut in the distance.
It stood at the far eastern edge of the village, set apart from the others by a wide strip of hard-packed sand where no paths crossed. Unlike the rest of the village, no footprints were leading toward it, only faint marks that came and went, careful, deliberate, as if whoever lived there avoided being seen.
The structure itself wasn't falling apart. The wooden walls were intact, recently repaired in places, the support beams straight and firm. The door hung properly on its hinges, not warped or broken, and the small windows weren't boarded up or cracked. Someone took care of it.
And yet—
No smoke rose from the chimney.
Not because it was unused, Arin realized, but because it was clean. Too clean. The chimney stones were darkened evenly, without fresh soot or old buildup, as if fires were lit rarely, sparingly, only when necessary. No cooking smells drifted from it either. No warmth bled into the air around it.
There were no decorations. No tools left outside. No drying herbs or hanging charms, unlike the other homes. Nothing that invited attention.
It wasn't abandoned.
It was intentionally quiet.
A place meant to exist without drawing eyes. Without reminding the village, it was there.
Like something, or someone, being kept at the edge, not out of neglect, but out of careful distance.
Arin felt an itch at the back of his mind.
"Oi."
Raul's voice snapped him out of it.
"You planning to stare a hole through that thing, or are we going back?"
Arin blinked, exhaled, and turned away. "Coming."
They headed back to the hut Rasir had given them. Lunch was skipped entirely after being force-fed by half the village earlier; none of them could even think about food without trying to vomit. They rested for a bit, letting the afternoon heat pass, then moved naturally into light practice.
Nothing intense. Just keeping their bodies warm. Stretching. A few weapon drills.
Eventually, Victor wiped sweat from his brow and spoke up.
"Let's go see Rasir."
They found him near the central well, speaking with a pair of villagers. Once he noticed them, he waved them over.
"Sir Rasir," Victor said, bowing slightly. "I'm actually a blacksmith. I wanted to ask, do you have a smithy I could use?"
Rasir's face lit up immediately. "Oh? That's great news, kid."
Victor gestured vaguely. "When Kel was showing us around, we saw an abandoned one."
Rasir nodded, smile softening. "That would be Old Dan's place. He passed from an illness a few years back. Never had an apprentice, so the smithy's been sitting empty ever since. We still have another one for basic needs, so…" He waved his hand. "You're welcome to use it."
Victor's eyes shone. "Thank you, sir."
"No need for thanks," Rasir replied warmly. "Just help the villagers when you can, alright?"
"Yes, sir," Victor said immediately.
Arin hesitated, then spoke.
"Sir Rasir… may I ask something?"
Rasir turned to him. "Of course."
"When we were being introduced earlier, Kel mentioned a hut on the eastern outskirts. He said we should ask you about it."
The change was immediate.
The warmth drained from Rasir's expression. His shoulders stiffened, and the air around them felt heavier somehow, as if the heat itself had thickened.
"…I see," Rasir said quietly.
He was silent for a moment, then nodded to himself.
"Alright. Come with me."
They didn't ask further.
They walked together toward the eastern edge of the village. With every step, the noise behind them faded, laughter, chatter, the clatter of daily life, until only the wind and the sound of their footsteps remained.
The hut stood alone.
Rasir stopped in front of it and raised a hand, hesitating just a second before knocking.
"Mina," he called softly. "Are you there?"
A pause.
Then the door opened.
A girl stepped out, no older than eighteen.
She was petite, her skin a warm brown tone, black hair falling loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes, dark blue, deep and unreadable, lifted to meet Rasir's.
"Oh," she said. Her voice was calm. Distant.
"It's you, father."
Something was wrong.
Raul felt it instantly.
His senses sharpened, every instinct screaming a quiet warning. There was an aura around her, thin, restrained, but unmistakable. Death. Not wild or aggressive. Controlled. Patient.
Victor reacted just as fast.
He stepped forward without thinking, placing himself subtly in front of Raul and Arin, his posture shifting into something protective.
Arin activated Lord's Eyes.
The screen appeared.
___________________________
Name: Mina
Core Talent: Necromancy
Rank: Soldier
Potential: High
___________________________
Arin froze.
High potential.
His gaze lingered on the word longer than he meant to.
Even Lira, the late daughter of the Ashenvill Baron, had only been mid-potential. Raul himself was considered low. And yet this girl, standing quietly in a lonely hut at the edge of nowhere…
What kind of monster…
Mina's eyes flicked toward him.
Just for a moment.
And Arin had the distinct feeling, no, the certainty, that she knew exactly what he had just seen.