Six straight games. Astrid had demolished me six times in a row. It wasn’t even a contest until, after breakfast, I started to figure her out. She was a devastating force on the board, always ten steps ahead, but she was also happy to make a deal for position. By the final game, I spotted an opening. When we reached a critical turning point, I simply asked her if she was willing to draw. She agreed with a happy smile.

"Sometimes the smartest move is knowing when a draw is better than a win." I could hear my Aapo’s voice in my head, echoing the lesson she’d drilled into me.

We’d been playing for over an hour, and our admittedly bland breakfast of eggs and fresh bread was long gone. I had the sense Astrid would’ve kept going indefinitely, and I wasn’t about to end on a loss. Turns out that was the lesson all along.

Afterward, I asked where Red and I could get some air. That’s how I ended up in a private courtyard within the estate. Rain fell lightly on the wide stone surface, broken up by intricate statues of animals lining the edges. A small river diverted the falling rain beneath decorative bridges, channeling it gracefully out of the space. It was quiet, serene, and exactly what I needed to decompress.

Red lounged just at the edge of the covered area, stubbornly avoiding the rain. Typical dog.

I leaned back, letting the drizzle cool my face. Valor. A Seal. The way that magic had felt—intense didn’t even begin to cover it. My senses had been sharper, faster, more expansive than ever. But the cost… I could only keep it up for a minute or two before I was drained. And then there were the memories, the strange images of a small, angry elf jumping around and shouting instructions…

“Did you really walk up to my mom naked?”

Cass’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. I turned to see her crouched next to Red, clearly thinking about petting him. She was wearing a red satin robe I hadn’t seen before—must has been some kind of Winters thing.

“I didn’t have enough mana for clothes,” I replied with a shrug. “Couldn’t even find a curtain.”

“Too bad,” she said with a smirk, finally petting Red after he practically shoved himself into her hand. “We have some really nice ones. But we had to get you out of the armor so your mana could regenerate.”

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the rain pattering softly around the courtyard. Finally, she broke it. “Ben, that was…” She hesitated.

“Reckless?” I offered, bracing for her critique.

Her grin was unexpected. “No. That was awesome! No wonder you took down a Brine Tyrant. You handled those Arbortrux like they were nothing. Why didn’t you tell me you figured out a Seal?”

I glanced at her. “It’s the same one from yesterday morning. When I healed your ankle—that was Valor. I just didn’t realize it at the time. Wait, that was yesterday right?”

She frowned, clearly trying to process what I’d said. “Yeah, just a good night’s sleep…What do you mean you didn’t recognize Valor? How did you use it?”

“It just… happened,” I said, struggling to explain. “I saw it form in my mind, and then—zap—everyone was healed, and most of the excess mana was gone.”

Cass stared ahead, her voice soft. “That’s… not possible, Ben. I mean, maybe it is for you, but I’ve always been taught you can’t use magic you don’t know. That’d be like imagining something and having it just… happen.”

I turned to her, completely serious. “Isn’t that what magic is? Where I come from, magic doesn’t exist. So we imagine it does. To a child, magic is anything they want. Accidentally casting spells people don’t know? That’s the whole plot of all sorts of stories back home.”

She chuckled softly. “And you don’t think you’ll pass me? I’ve been at this for almost a year now, and I’m nowhere close to a Seal. I can fight—that’s why I stick to Striker work—but after being paired with Felix, and now you…”

“Cass, we talked about this. Trust me when I say I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m just really good at faking it.” I leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. “My magic is literally based on Bravery. Do you know what that means? I’m still terrified. I can’t go home, so now I live here—a place where half a dozen giant, murderous beavers try to kill you on a random Tuesday.”

“Uh, Thursday,” she corrected with a straight face.

I blinked at her. “What?”

She tilted her head, genuinely confused. “It’s Friday today.”

Shaking my head, I gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Wait—you’re telling me the days of the week here are the same as on Earth? How has no one mentioned that before?”

Now she looked intrigued, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Hold on. What are the days called on Earth?”

I rattled them off, and she barked a laugh. “That’s ridiculous! How is that even possible? I thought someone explained the days of the week to you.”

“Like I said, Cass. Anything’s possible.” I spread my hands theatrically. “We’re speaking the same language—well, mostly. Apparently, somewhere along the way, something influenced both our worlds to use the same measurement of days. Who knows? Maybe it’s just magic!”

She shook her head, still chuckling. “Magic… Alright then, Mr. Education, you’re going to help me figure out my Seal when we get to Sylvarus. I might be a little behind you, but I’m choosing to imagine I’m not that far off.”

Grinning, I stood up, stretching. Why was it that I always felt better around Cass? It wasn’t a mystery, really. In this world, she was the person I’d spent the most time with. And, across an unknowable distance from Earth, living a new life on Ark—I had a great friend.

“Oh! Hey, you want this?” I said, pulling the Mana Orb from my earring and holding it out. “We’re supposed to go hunting, right? I’m not sure if there’s any etiquette, but if it’ll help, please use it.”

Cass blinked at the orb, her expression caught between shock and discomfort, like I’d just handed her a bar of solid gold. “Ben, that’s a Class E Mana Orb. A big one. That’s worth a couple of gold mana coins, easy. I couldn’t take that—you used so much saving us and healing my leg. Thank you, by the way. I should’ve started with that—that’s your advancement.”

I grinned, walking over to a nearby statue in the rain—a lion-like beast perched on a stone plinth—and placed the orb on it. “Well, I’m full up. Almost bursting, honestly. So, I’ll just leave this here. It looks nice, doesn’t it?”

I turned and started walking away, hearing her exasperated sigh behind me. A second later, there was a sharp gasp as she absorbed the orb.

“Gaia’s… Wow,” she muttered, her voice tinged with wonder. “That was… a lot. I’ve never felt mana like that before. No wonder Hunters taking down high-class monsters advance so fast.” She swayed on her feet in the rain, steadying herself. “I was supposed to get one from the Spirit Realm job where we found you, but… well, Chas.”

I nodded. “Deadbeat Mentor.”

She laughed.

“Noted.” I smiled. “Okay, so how does this work? Do we suit up and head to Riverbend?”

“Since we are both basically full of mana? Damn right. And this time, I’ll have swords that can actually cut a monster. Those old ones were just steel—felt like trying to chop down a tree without a proper axe.”

“Ah, that explains a lot,” I said as we walked down a hall into the proper estate, Red close in tow. He was snuffling around as we walked, clearly unfamiliar with the halls. “You barely managed to scratch the Arbortrux, and it only took one hit with the spear to drop them. I didn’t realize there was a difference.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She nodded. “Depends on the monster’s mana. Same principle as with people. Spirit Steel can bypass a lot of mana hardening, but it doesn’t work as well against higher-class monsters. Absolutely obliterates spiritual creatures like Glids, though—super handy.”

We turned a corner into a grand foyer, with sweeping staircases and a large circular door inlaid with intricate designs. “I have a lot of questions about Spirit Realms,” I said, my curiosity bubbling up.

Cass laughed as we started up the stairs. “Fuck, you think I have answers? I’ve been to two. One was a lot scarier than the other and you were there. Entrances mostly show up in the Greatwood, and Hunters—mostly Adepts—explore them. Felix probably knows more, and we can look it up in Sylvarus.”

That reminded me of something I’d been meaning to ask. “What’s an Adept, anyway? I keep hearing all these titles, but no one’s really explained them.”

Cass grinned, pushing open a door at the top of the stairs to reveal a lavishly decorated sitting room. Two mannequins stood at one end, each adorned with armor—one clearly mine, the other undoubtedly hers. “Think of an Adept as a Class D Runebinder. They have Seals, they know how to use them, and typically have several other sigils they can use on top of it. Basically, they’re experts. A Master—or Class C—would be someone like Diana, although she’s probably a Grand Master, which is just someone who has been a Master for a long time. They use magic in ways I can’t even begin to understand.”

I frowned, thinking. “But you called Chas an Adept, and everyone talks about him like he’s way higher than that. The man moved a Mountain, Cass.”

Cass smirked. “Chas is… Chas. He nearly beat Alexander in a duel a while back. The Axe made him join the Hunters after he lost. The highest position Elara could officially recognize him as was Adept, and then Maris—our Grand Mistress of the Strikers—made him take Apprentices. She can boss him around now that he’s a Hunter. Politics, you know? I’m glad I don’t have to deal with it. But honestly, it was the best damned thing that could’ve happened to me. Even if Chas sucks at teaching.”

I blinked, processing that. When Felix said they were new, I hadn’t realized just how new.

“So Chas is a Master then?”

“Probably Grand Master,” she replied, taking her armor from the mannequin. “You should see him fight. Not Glids, he was barely using mana there. In a real fight, especially against monsters, there’s a reason he has a mural in the citadel.”

Red trotted in, sniffing the air before hopping onto something that looked like an ottoman. He flopped down with a dramatic huff, his tail wagging once before settling. The dog was unapologetically at ease—his lounging was oddly reassuring.

As we began putting on our armor, I couldn’t help but notice Cass’s tattoos. They weren’t just decorative—they seemed alive, almost alive in the dim light. Intricate runic patterns wove across her shoulders and arms, shifting between sharp angles and flowing lines.

“What’s with the tattoos?” I asked, buckling my belt.

Cass tightened a strap on her tunic and glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have anything like this on Earth? These are runic markings. We’re born with them.”

I froze mid-motion. “Wait, you’re telling me babies come out with… glowing tattoos? That’s fucking wild. On Earth, tattoos are done with ink and needles and definitely not to babies.”

She grimaced. “That sounds awful. These aren’t just for show, you know. They’re tied to who we are, our lineage, and our magic. My whole family shares a pattern—well, except for the personal runes that appear later. You’ve seen Erik’s markings, right? And my mom’s?”

I nodded, storing my clothes in my earring. “I saw the ones on her neck and face. They’re like yours, but... dimmer, I guess? I’ve seen dozens of Gaians and kids without tattoos, though. Want me to store yours too?”

Cass handed me her clothes. “Here. Yeah, most only have one or two. The Winters family has a lot more. The patterns on our arms and shoulders? Those come from my dad’s side.”

Her voice dipped slightly as she mentioned her father, and I hesitated. “Your dad… is he—?”

“That’s a fucking story,” she cut in with a half-smile, adjusting her bracers. “If you’ve still got that bottle of Sevenfold, maybe I’ll tell it later.”

I grinned, slipping her clothes into the earring. “Oh, I still have it.”

Cass finished suiting up, the faint glow of her tattoos dimming slightly as her armor settled into place. I mirrored her, sliding my boots on. They fit better than most shoes I’d encountered on Ark, though they weren’t exactly comfortable.

“Alright,” she said, straightening. “We should grab our weapons from Kerrin and see if any of the Wandering Wheels that brought us are still here. Maybe we can hitch a ride to Riverbend. Running the trail’s fun, but it’s all uphill.”

“Wandering Wheels?” I asked. “The Sentarian carts, right?”

She nodded. “Yep! The carts are called Trailbinders, but the Sentarian who run them call themselves the Wandering Wheels. It’s like a delivery service—they move goods that are already paid for. Revolutionary, even the Central Isles have started using them. The carts themselves are pretty new.”

A courier service powered by magic-run carts. That was… oddly modern. Cass noticed my expression and smirked.

“Let me guess—you’ve got those on Earth too?”

I returned the smirk. “Sort of.”

As we left the room, Red got up with an audible sigh, as if our departure were a great inconvenience. He trailed after us at his usual unhurried pace, sniffing the ground occasionally. Just as we reached what I assumed was the front door, Red stopped abruptly, his ears perking up. He let out a low rumble, his gaze fixed on a dim hallway.

My head snapped to follow his line of sight, but the hall appeared empty. It was too far for my danger sense in armor to pick up anything, but Red didn’t seem convinced.

Cass stiffened beside me. Without missing a beat, she grabbed a nearby stool and hurled it into the hallway with surprising force.

“Shit!” A male voice yelped as the hallway twisted unnaturally, bending in a way that made my stomach lurch. A brown-haired teenager tumbled out of thin air, hitting the ground with a graceless thud and a string of curses.

“What’d I tell you about sneaking around the house, Henrik?” Cass barked, storming up to the boy and yanking him to his feet with a grip that suggested this wasn’t the first time.

Henrik. Right—her brother.

“Oh, fuck off, Cass,” he grumbled, brushing himself off. “If it weren’t for that red beast there, you wouldn’t have known I was here. How’s that for spell mastery? I’m perfectly invisible.”

Red let out a loud hacking noise that sounded suspiciously like a sarcastic cough, smacking his lips for emphasis.

“You might want to mask your smell,” I offered. “Dogs can sniff out pretty much anything.”

Cass smirked, folding her arms. “You hear that? You stink. Go clean that stain you call a body—and stop creeping around when Elizabeth’s here, too. You do know she’ll absolutely fucking stab you if she finds you, right?”

Henrik glared at her, rubbing his arm where she’d just socked him. “Ow, gods-dammit, Cass! That hurt. And I told you, it’s not me she’s sensing—it’s probably someone else! I hope you step on shit on your way outside.”

With an exaggerated huff, Henrik stomped back up the hallway, sliding a shoji door closed behind him with as much force as he could muster—which wasn’t much. Red made a strange snuffling noise that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dogs don’t laugh.”

Red panted, his tongue lolling out in what I could only describe as smug satisfaction.

“That’s Henrik,” Cass said as we returned to the door. “Probably the most irritating person on La-Roc—and my little brother. He’s figured out how to turn invisible just to avoid doing work.”

“And to spy on your friends,” I added.

“Exactly. Not sure if you have any siblings, but little brothers are the worst.”

“Mine’s not so bad. Danny. Kid’s a genius,” I said, thinking fondly of my younger brother. “We’re best friends—but also archrivals. We were, I guess…” My voice trailed off as Cass opened the door to a stone courtyard.

The space was dotted with large statues of nondescript figures in prayer, many of them cloaked in moss or streaked with the grime of neglect. Kerrin stood in the light drizzle, speaking with several other Sentarian near two large carts. Two Gaian men loaded boxes onto the carts, their movements precise despite the weather.

“Ah, young Miss,” Kerrin greeted, turning and approaching us.

“Young Miss?” I teased, catching the faintest blush rise on Cass’s face.

“This poor butler overheard that you were on your way to Riverbend,” Kerrin continued smoothly. “The drivers here insist on taking you. They feel it is the least they can do for your services rendered on the road.”

“They feel that way,” Cass replied, her tone sharp, “or you told them to feel that way, Kerrin? I would have preferred to ask them myself, without you influencing their decision. You know I don’t like people doing things just because they’re scared of my mother.”

“Of course not, young Miss,” Kerrin said, inclining his head slightly. “This poor butler simply relayed the information that was overheard.”

Kerrin’s calm, measured demeanor was impossible to read, but Cass finally sighed and nodded, her tone softening. “Thank you, Kerrin.”

“You are most welcome,” he replied warmly. “Your weapons are on the bench of the Trailbinder there. The driver is Lorrin.”

A short while later, we found ourselves seated on a bench of the moving cart. My spear case was strapped to my back, and Cass’s swords hung at her hips. Red, however, had stubbornly refused to get on the cart. Instead, he trotted alongside with an effortless gait, showing no signs of strain as he kept pace.

I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the Sentarian driver seated ahead of us. His hand gripped a rune-covered rod that extended from a base in front of him. It seemed to function like a joystick. Pushing it forward made the cart accelerate, while tilting it to the sides directed our turns. There were no gears, no visible engine—and no suspension. The uneven road caused the cart to lurch and jolt unpredictably, and the cushioned bench did little to soften the impact.

To my surprise, the driver didn’t seem to bounce nearly as much as we did.

“How is it that you’re not flying out of your chair, Lorrin?” I finally asked after one particularly jarring bump sent me crashing back down onto the bench.

“I anticipate the unanticipated,” Lorrin replied smoothly. “I feel the flow of space around us as we move and predict the infinite.”

I stared hard at his back, trying to decipher the cryptic explanation as another hard thud sent me sprawling. That’s when I noticed it.

“Oh, you have a fucking seatbelt.”

“Indeed,” Lorrin said, not missing a beat. “I have a seatbelt.”