He knew it was a trap.

He knew Keiner’s words were just meant to rile him up.

But as he mentioned her name, moments past took form with such a force, it made Avaln relive them in the course of a breath…

“I’m sorry!” A young woman outside my “house” shouted, as I came out first thing in the morning. “I’m sorry for peeking!”

She was sitting cross-legged by my door, and her hands were joined together on top of her head, as if praying. I scratched my cheek, a bit embarrassed, yet a spark of joy also flickered in my chest. I noticed it not because of how grand it was, nor because the meeting had some sort of hue nor fateful tint. I noticed it because of the contrast it created against the dark clouds it was flooded by.

After almost ten years trying to reach the end of the blue book… I’d finally lost hope. A loss mirrored by Arthur’s gaze, and Ran’s worry. Their care hurt me, and Hallen’s beatings were starting to feel like a much needed punishment.

“Peeking? Did you peek inside?” I asked, to which she nodded emphatically, her hands still in the air, pleading. “Why?”

“I-I dare not say anything about it out loud, sir!”

“Sir?” I repeated, dumbfounded.

“W-Was I not supposed to say that?” Her features cracked, unsure of what to do, and as soon as she began to kowtow I reached for her arm, then pulled at it. “What?”

I gently led her to stand up, aware of how I looked, of how some people would react at me reaching so casually for them. The truth is my appearance only reflected how uncared for my heart was, not by my loved ones, but by myself. She observed the touch, then my face, as if uncertain of what was going on, provoking her blonde ponytail to whip around, her scarlet gaze filled with a worry that was far from the kind I expected.

It lacked disgust.

It was genuine.

“Who are you?” I asked, forgetting about how I was still holding her arm, suspecting this to be a prank of some sort.

She lifted an eyebrow at my question.

“Why do you call me sir?” I mirrored her expression.

She stared at me, for a long instant, as if trying to discern something.

“You are young.” Her lips muttered with a hint of incredulity

I scratched my cheek again, feeling awkward. “They do tell me my beard is way too thick for my age.”

Her gaze then fell to my feet, then slowly returned to meet my eyes again, as if confirming something, and she added, “You are at the first stage. Nascent Essence first stage.”

My awkward smile froze, then I felt how those dark clouds in my chest crept all the way up to my face.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by it!” She quickly denied in a bunch of flustered hand gestures, slipping free of my grasp, reminding me of it, which only made me feel worse. “It’s not unusual for some people to remain there a while. It’s different for everyone!”

My genuine smile fell, replaced by a forced one, spiteful and injured. A part of my mind wanted to complain, to blame her, to send her away in a shout and a curse. But I held back. I swallowed that bile that would only make me hate myself more, and said as gently as I could, turning around, “If that’s all, I’ll be returning to my…”

The words hut, shovel, trash and waste appeared in sequence inside my mind, yet I let none of them slip through. And I also never got the chance to finish my sentence.

Her hand grasped my arm, much like I did before. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Her concern was honest, intently, and warm like the first ray of sunlight. “What’s your name?”

Another flicker of joy.

I turned around. “Avaln."

“Avaln.” She tasted the word, as if trying to discern the ingredients composing it. It felt so normal in her features I almost wondered if someone could actually know a person like that. “Avaln… do you truly not know who I am?”

I lifted an eyebrow, suddenly awkward. “Should I? Have we met before?”

She met my gaze, intently, on purpose. It felt so strange, yet so interesting, and again I had that sensation of being inspected, as if she was trying to find some sort of truth inside me. Her scarlet eyes then shone with something resembling happiness, and the sight of it, made the thought of not remembering her, feel almost sinful.

“You truly don’t know…” She muttered, then realized she was still holding my arm and quickly let go. “I’m sorry. It’s just so unusual… “

I don’t know what came over me. The sound of her genuine concern for not being known felt so foreign to me, I chuckled in disbelief… and maybe my reaction was a bit longer than a chuckle. “Are you famous or something?”

She stared at me agape, as if she couldn’t believe my reaction. “Quit laughing at me!” She hit me on the shoulder, with a strength I didn’t expect, but that didn’t hurt me either. “I’m Alary. Alary Greenleaf.”

Alary Of Greenleaf? I thought back then, thinking her an orphan just like me. It wouldn’t be until a few weeks later that I’d find out how wrong I had been.

I bowed. “The pleasure is mine, my lady.”

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She squinted her eyes at that, yet after a breath of examination, she let out a funny sigh. “You truly don’t know me.” Despite her previous reaction, however, her thoughts seemed to dim her smile slightly, and her scarlet eyes lost themselves in a crack of my hut. “Please, don’t do that.”

Her request filled the air in a whisper, timid, beaten.

I stood straight, gently, thinking. There was no way I’d forget meeting someone like her, that was for sure, so either she was related to some important figure, or was a strong adventurer. Given her athletic body and the leather armor she was wearing, I leaned towards the latter. It was a bit on the nose.

She seemed to be really conscious of it, of being famous, of bonds forged through it.

It made me wonder what it was like, to be known wherever you were, to never know if the people approaching you held genuine intentions or just a base interest. Ran, my orphan sister, quite often would complain about men trying to win her over with gifts and pretty words, while knowing they only wanted one thing.

I wondered if being famous, and as pretty as Alary meant the same, but incredibly worse.

I wondered how many true friends she had.

I hoped she had at least one.

And so, as the words slipped through my lips, I tried to ignore the clear interest I began to hold for her. “Alary it is then.” She met my gaze. “And Alary will be, if we ever meet again.”

Her smile shone bright then, and I felt another spark of joy.

“Avaln.” She tasted my name again, her arms crossed. “You are not what I expected.”

I lifted my eyebrow at that. “What were you expecting?”

“Kind of… like an old master in disguise. Like in the stories.” My expression spoke for itself, pushing her to elaborate. The feelings shown on my features weren’t because I didn’t know, but rather due to the laughter I saw in her eyes. “Like, you’d meet a beggar that despite their appearance, are actually quite powerful, and they teach you a technique or give you some invaluable treasure because you… “

“Peeked at them through the night?” I finished for her, and the image of her pleading and about kowtow came to my mind, causing me to laugh, then say, “‘Oh, this pretty woman peeked at me while I slept! I better give her some treasure! Let me look inside my secret pocket…’”

She laughed too. “Oh, please! I already apologized!”

My laugh soon turned into a guffaw. “Let me look inside! I’m sure I’ve got something!”

I made the attempt to set aside the plank I had as a door. “Oh wait! I’ve got nothing!”

“Search better, you old bat!”

“I can only give you my body, young lady!”

“I’ll take it!”

My legs failed, and I fell against my hut, whose walls trembled but resisted the impact. Soon after, another shake ran through it, and my shoulder felt the contact of hers as we convulsed, my sides hurting. I don’t know for how long I laughed, nor if what I laughed at was funny to begin with, but she laughed with me, and those sparks of joy finally gave way to a tiny fire, a tiny fire my heart sat around, sending that warmth throughout my body, dispersing the dark clouds.

They came back afterwards, as if migrating like birds through the leylines, but Alary, after that day, did so too.

Avaln performed the fastest Snake bites the neck he’d ever done, yet Keiner’s gaze saw it all, waited for it, then moved swiftly forward, crouching out of the spear’s way, his blade ready to trace a cut through Avaln’s gut.

Alary, I don’t think you’ll ever know how you saved me that day.

The spear however, far from retracting in the slim hopes of blocking the attack, kept moving forward and was plunged in the ground, inviting Avaln’s momentum to shift upwards. The blade supposed to cut his abdomen only grazed his thigh, drawing a drop of blood, before his whole figure flew in the air, quickly extending the distance between him and Keiner ten steps.

Even if the opportunity arises in the future, my words may fail to describe it.

As that weightless sensation took over his body, Avaln took advantage of his still strong momentum to spin and perform Unneeded heart, throwing his bone spear with merciless precision, causing Keiner’s instincts to flare and stop his attempt at catching his opponent as he landed, urging him to block that projectile.

As Avaln met the ground, he drew one encircled symbol with his right hand.

The link rune.

Another similar rune on the spear shone then, and its erratic path was suddenly altered as if being pulled by an invisible chain, soon landing by Avaln’s right side, the small dagger at the end of its shaft digging itself into the ground, the spear’s blade pointing skywards.

Yet right now, I’m so glad.

Keiner’s silhouette blurred as he skipped the distance between them, trying to reach Avaln before he could resume his stance, yet to his surprise such an opening never appeared. With a kick, Avaln caught the spear and thrust forward, taking a step with his right, the movement utterly fluid, the tiny dagger aiming straight for Kiener’s eyes, blocking his vision. To lose one sight meant to try and rely on one’s other senses, and albeit the time it took Keiner to swap to his seventh sense was minimal, there was still that tiny instant in which the unknown made him have to guess. And so, he leaned against the ground, gaining speed, evading the small dagger and regaining his vision…

I’m so glad I get to repay, in some small measure, the debt I owe you.

But the thrust never had any weight behind it, its only purpose, to shift his advance, and so it was retracted incredibly quickly. Avaln’s senses caught Kiener’s intentions, and so he dragged his right foot backwards to adjust his weapon as quickly as possible, changing his grip, then by sending his left foot a step behind, he traced a vertical, descending cut with both hands.

Wave the river.

That was the name of that move. By spinning the spear half a turn, its own weight added a powerful force and speed to it, and was especially effective when fighting close range, where the spear usually loses its advantage.

During his training…

How many times did Avaln die against it?

How many times did he die from the consequent Fortune abandons the bold?

Keiner’s sweat ran cold, his instincts having flared for a number he’d stopped counting, and forced his leg’s muscles to halt his momentum, shifting his weight backwards, causing his back to straighten up, feeling that brush of air on his forehead caused by Avaln’s blade… yet his instincts flared once again. Through his seventh sense he felt how his opponent’s left foot was moved forward, tracing an horizontal cut at his neck height, precise, lethal.

“Shit…!” He couldn’t help muttering as he let his weight fall, his back now bending backwards, the blade whistling right above his nose. As soon as the danger passed he kicked the ground and made some distance…

But his instincts flared yet again.

How many times had he heard that bell of death today?

In the time he took ten steps back, ivory flashed in front him, and before he could regain his balance, his sword met a heavy projectile about to pierce his chest, and managed to deflect it just in time, yet the blade sunk in the outside of his right shoulder, splitting flesh, drawing blood.

It was a superficial wound, but a wound nonetheless.

The spear spun then, and as if guided by some unknown hands, it flew right into his owner’s grip with a whistling sound.

Disbelief and anger mixed in his expression as he stared at that young-man that seemed to defy all common sense. “I can’t believe this…”

“I can’t believe I’ll have to go all out…”