Hajin awakened with his cracked ribs entirely mended and free of pain, an impossible luxury that a single night of standard mortal rest never possessed the capacity to provide.
Whatever miraculous restorative vitality their shared soul bond circulated through his spiritual channels quietly knit the fractured bone while he slept like a log.
They cleared their clay trenchers of warm salted oats and smoked venison in the inn common room before stepping out into the bustling morning thoroughfare.
The stone streets already teemed with loaded dray carts, shouting dockhands hauling crates from the canal, and morning hawkers wheeling barrows of crisp river greens.
"So... what exactly constitutes a Ranker, human?"
Juna walked beside him with her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her traveling tunic.
"Given that you invoke the title incessantly without ever defining its legal boundaries to your partner—"
