Kael woke with the morning sun warming his face, his body aching from the battle with the Shadehounds. His mind was still foggy, recalling how close he had come to losing his life.

The sharp memory of fainting immediately after the fight made him wince with embarrassment.

'Damn it... Passing out in front of Lyra like that,' he thought bitterly. 'What a way to impress someone.'

The ground beneath him felt cool, and he was covered with a rough blanket made from an animal's hide. ‘It must be Lyra…’

Kael noticed his injured arm had been carefully bandaged with a piece of Lyra's robe. It seemed that Lyra had taken good care of him while he was unconscious.

The campfire had died down, leaving only glowing embers and a thin trail of smoke. The forest around them was calm, with the soft sounds of birds filling the air.

Kael turned his head to find Lyra seated nearby, sharpening a blade, the one he had never seen her used. The rhythmic scraping of stone against metal was soothing in its own way, contrasting with the previous night's chaos.

"You're awake," Lyra said without looking at Kael, her voice calm and steady, as though nothing had happened.

Kael blinked, watching her work with focused precision. The way the morning light caught her face, highlighting her sharp features and determined expression, made it clear that Lyra was already preparing for the challenges ahead.

"How was your sleep?" she asked, finally glancing up. The warmth of the sun softened her eyes slightly.

"Like the dead," Kael muttered, forcing a smile. "If the dead dream of being chased by nightmares."

A small smile tugged at Lyra's lips. "Then it's good we're awake. Dreams, even nightmares, can linger, but what we do when we're awake defines us."

Kael sat up carefully, wincing as pain shot through his side, a harsh reminder of his injuries. "I'm sorry for what happened last night," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I shouldn't have passed out like that."

“It’s okay… It was your first time,” Lyra glanced at him, her expression unreadable but her tone firm. "You fought well. You survived. That's what matters."

Kael nodded, but the embarrassment still weighed on him. "But I passed out right after the fight ended."

Lyra stood and sheathed her blade, her gaze serious. "Reaching your limit is nothing to be ashamed of. It means you gave everything you had. But you must understand, Kael—this journey will test you in ways you can't imagine. There will be more battles and pain, and you won't always feel ready. Hesitation will cost you everything."

Her words were harsh but carried a deep truth. She wasn't reprimanding Kael—she was preparing him.

"I understand," Kael said quietly, his resolve hardening.

"Good," Lyra replied, her tone softening slightly. "We need to move. Our next stop is the Town of Duskwillow."

“Duskwillow?” Kael frowned, confused. "I thought we were heading to the Sanctuary?"

"We are," Lyra confirmed, "but we need supplies, clothes, and maybe a proper rest before we get there. Duskwillow is the closest town, and we must be prepared before reaching the Sanctuary."

“Lyra, I’ve something to ask,” Kael hesitated, still thinking about his performance in the battle. "Do you think I'm not ready? That I'll be... looked down on when we get there?"

Lyra sighed, meeting his gaze. "The truth is, yes. In your current state, you'll be seen as weak. Godslayers respect strength; to be one, you must prove yourself."

Kael bit his lip, accepting the harsh reality. His last fight proved he had a long way to go. And if anyone found out he was the heir to Oranos, things could turn dangerous.

He feared that his weakness might drive the Godslayers away from their mission, pushing them toward alliances with the gods.

"You're right," he said quietly.

“It’s okay. You’ll have more than enough time to become better before we reach there,” Lyra gave a bit of encouragement. "We'll take it one step at a time. For now, Duskwillow."

"Looks like we're in for a long trip," Kael remarked.

Understanding the path before them, Kael woke up and began to prepare. They quickly gathered their belongings and set off again, feeling the cold mountain air bite their skin as they progressed.

When they arrived in Duskwillow, the sun had already set, leaving the quiet town covered in long shadows.

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The setting sun painted the sky in hues of purple and orange, but an unsettling stillness hung over Duskwillow. Kael felt a strange tension in the air as they entered the town.

"This place feels... strange," Kael muttered, glancing around.

Lyra's expression was grim. "Duskwillow is governed by one of Thalios's Seven Knights."

Kael's eyes widened. "Thalios has knights?"

"Yes. They served their king, Rasmund, the heir of Thalios, the God of Dust," Lyra replied. "Each of the Seven Knights holds power over a region. The one controlling Duskwillow is known for his cruelty. He enforces Thalios's will through the Divine Chosen, who keeps the people in line."

Kael felt a chill run down his spine. "What kind of power does this knight have?"

Lyra's face darkened. "Same as Rasmund but not on par as him.”

Kael nodded. That was for sure. The gods should have better power against their Divine Chosen.

Lyra continued, “The knight here controls dust. His power slowly breaks down everything—both the land and the people. It's subtle but devastating. The people of Duskwillow live in fear, but they've become so accustomed to it that they barely recognize it as fear anymore."

Kael frowned. "What happens if someone resists?"

"They're either enslaved or sacrificed," Lyra said flatly. "Rebellion against a Divine Chosen is nearly impossible. Even a Godslayer can't guarantee victory against them."

Kael nodded without replying anything. Despite his efforts, Kael couldn't shake off the unease that clung to him. Kael was doing his best to keep his mind off troubling thoughts.

The idea that the heir of Thalios had an army of Divine Chosen at his command was unsettling, to say the least. Meanwhile, the state of his village wasn't much better than the dire situations this town were in.

As he looked around, Kael noticed the town square was nearly deserted, save for a few disheveled children playing in the dirt. Their subdued and out-of-place laughter barely broke the oppressive silence.

Reflecting on their grim reality, Kael thought, "We're supposed to be under the protection of a god, yet we live as miserably as if we were forsaken. There's no sense of freedom here, just a constant fear."

Lyra, ever cautious, reminded him, "They're not behaving as a true god should. That’s whu… we should avoid making rash decisions or drawing unwanted attention to ourselves."

As they walked through the eerie streets, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The few people they passed looked worn down, their eyes hollow, like they had given up hope long ago.

As they approached a narrow alley, Kael heard the soft sound of someone crying.

"Wait," Kael said, stopping. "Someone's here."

Without waiting for Lyra's response, Kael moved toward the sound. In the alley's shadows, he found a young boy, no more than seven or eight years old, huddled against the wall. His clothes were torn, and his face was streaked with dirt and tears.

Kael knelt beside the boy, his voice soft. "Hey... are you okay?"

The boy looked up, fear clear in his eyes. "They... they took her," he whispered.

Kael's heart tightened. "Who did?"

"The Divine Chosen," the boy said, trembling. "They took my sister. They said she was chosen for something great, but they're lying. She's never coming back."

Anger surged in Kael's chest, but he knew there was little he could do now. He wasn't strong enough to take on the Divine Chosen, especially not here.

"I'm sorry," Kael said, his voice heavy with guilt. "I'm so sorry."

The boy didn't respond, his small body shaking with quiet sobs. Kael reached out, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, but then his gaze shifted, his eyes widening in awe as he stared at Lyra.

The boy was stunned by her presence, his gaze locked on her face. Lyra, with her otherworldly beauty, seemed almost like a figure from a dream to him.

Unfazed by the boy's reaction, Lyra looked down at him with sympathy and a certain detachment. To her, this kind of reverence was nothing new. She had seen it countless times before.

Kael noticed the boy's reaction but didn't think much of it. Given her ethereal appearance and the calm authority she exuded, anyone would be captivated by Lyra's presence.

Lyra's voice cut through the moment. "We need to leave. There's nothing more we can do for him now."

Kael nodded reluctantly, the boy's sobs still echoing in his ears as they walked away. His heart ached with his helplessness, but he knew he had to keep moving.

One day, he promised himself he would be strong enough to stand up to the Divine Chosen.

The image of the boy crying is still fresh in his mind. The unfairness of it all and the cruelty of the gods and their followers sparked his fierce determination. He knew he couldn't stand by while innocent people suffered because of the gods' whims.

"What are we going to do now?" Kael asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

As they moved further into the town, it was somehow still bustling. Despite the clear signs of struggle, people went about their daily lives, albeit hastily and with a visible sense of dread.

"We should find somewhere to rest for now," came the suggestion.

"Okay. But… I don't have any money on me," Kael admitted, a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

Lyra couldn't help but offer a small, reassuring smile at this. "Don't worry about it. You can pay me back when you're in a better position. Being a Godslayer has its perks, financially speaking."

Kael looked puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"

With a playful twinkle in her eye, Lyra replied, "You'll find out soon enough."

Kael decided not to push for more information and accepted her explanation. He understood that becoming a Guardian, a rank achieved by Godslayers after a long and challenging journey, often takes more than a thousand years.

So, he knew he couldn't grasp the entirety of a Godslayer's information in just a day or two.

As they reached an inn, the innkeeper—a weary man with deep lines etched into his face—greeted them with a nod. The years under Thalios's rule had clearly worn him down, but he didn't say a word as they entered.