As the sunset painted the sky in warm hues, Elron hurriedly threw on his clothes. He packed what he could from his room while trying to shake off Holly’s lingering charms He left the room, yet he knew the damage was already done. With the sun dipping low and casting long shadows, he quickened his pace toward the eastern gate, ready to embark on his new journey—a journey that would take him far from the trauma that was the capitol.

“What took you so long?” Sylra asked, eyeing him with a smirk.

Elron’s cheeks reddened as he mumbled, “Apologies, I had to get a few things.”

Her gaze dropped to the unmistakable hickey on his neck. “Right,” she said slowly.

Elron rifled through his pack, avoiding her stare. “What?”

Sylra shrugged, her tone casual. “It’s fine, Elric. You have your vices; I have mine.”

Blushing, he muttered, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you ready?”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “I was the one waiting on you, remember?”

Elron forced a smile and called toward a merchant passing through the massive gatehouse. The merchant, steering a covered wagon pulled by a six-legged lizard, leaned down with a lantern, squinting to get a better look at the pair.

“I’m headed to Bridgewoods. One gold for the ride,” the merchant said gruffly.

Elron hesitated, counting the remaining coins in his pack. The price was steep, especially without future access to royal funds. Even a prince could see this was overpriced.

Sylra muttered, “You human fu—”

Elron clamped a hand over her mouth and quickly replied, “One gold is fine. Many thanks.” He then flipped the coin up to the merchant and led Sylra to the back of the wagon.

The merchant grunted in acknowledgment as they climbed into the wagon bed.

For the next few days, the wagon rumbled along. They only stopped for brief rests, filling their canteens, or handling necessary business. Elron and Sylra spent their time eating, sleeping, and playing cards in the back. With the scenery constantly shifting outside, neither was bored for long.

Elron leaned forward toward the driver, curious. “Does the forest always look like this?”

The merchant threw him a disdainful look. “What? Never been outside the city or somethin?”

Elron scratched his head sheepishly. “Mostly, no. My friend and I know little beyond Kaltar.”

“A couple of elves who don’t know their own forests—figures,” the merchant scoffed. “It’s sparse near the cities, but it gets denser as you go further in. And stick to the road, or else…”

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“Or else what?” Elron asked, frowning.

“They’ll eat you!” Sylra teased, shoving Elron playfully.

“Hey now! Don’t go busting up my merchandise!” the merchant shouted, trying to steer his creature.

Before they knew it, their destination appeared. Unlike the capital, the town was a collection of towering elven trees surrounded by a sturdy stone wall.

“We’re here. Now get out of my wagon,” the merchant grumbled, stopping abruptly.

Sylra leaped from the cart and stuck her tongue out at him. “You smell, old man.”

Elron was about to scold her but stopped, and instead, he followed after her.

They then stood in the town square, right in front of a busy message board. Elron skimmed through its posts, eyes darting over warnings, notices, directions, and the real prize—job requests.

Sylra nudged him, “You’d better be looking for directions to the nearest bar.”

Elron leaned up on one foot, muttering, “No, I’m looking for experience.”

“Can’t get drunk on experience,” she scoffed.

Ignoring her, he tore a note off the board. “Ever tried?”

She rolled her eyes. “What’s that?”

He flattened the paper. “A notice asking for kobold ears.”

She was already striding toward a nearby tavern. “You’re buying me a drink.”

Elron laughed, trailing after her. “Fine, Sylra.”

Inside, they rented rooms and paid for meals, drawing the usual curious glances from the locals. The next morning, after a quick breakfast, they set off to fulfill the request.

Under one of the town’s gatehouses, Elron pointed to a spot on his map. “That farmer said we should start here. It’s the most recent sighting.”

“That guy hated you. Probably setting us up for trouble,” Sylra scoffed.

Elron shrugged. “The barkeep also mentioned someone went missing in this area too.”

“So, we’re rescuing people now?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I saved you, didn’t I? Maybe it’s your turn to return the favor?”

“Ouch,” she said, smirking. “But seriously, why are we here? We left steady jobs for this?”

“As I told you, I needed to leave my old life and—”

“‘Grow as a person,’” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “So, we’re leveling up?”

“Yeah...”

She stared at him for a moment, unreadable.

Leveling up varied by class. Most people gained experience by performing tasks related to their abilities—blacksmiths through smithing, fletchers through fletching. But for combat classes like Elron, leveling required one to do more dangerous things, such as slain monsters.

“You don’t even know what class I am,” she said, crossing her arms.

He stopped, surprised. “I assumed you were non-combat or a low level like me, considering you applied for guard work.”

She smirked. “Hybrid class.”

“And that would be?”

“A rogue,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“All right, then. You’ll support me and help track these creatures,” Elron said, plotting their approach.

She raised a brow, genuinely curious. “What’s your class?”

“Spellblade.”

“That’s cool! Never heard of it. Is it a hybrid too?”

“No, it doesn’t seem to be,” he replied.

She looked intrigued. “What was your ascension trial like?”

As Elron scrunched his face in thought, a spark of realization flickered in his eyes. He turned to Sylra, a grin forming as he began recounting his ascension trial.