Three days passed, settling into a routine. Each morning, Cass and I would meet at dawn to run for a few hours, leaving me a sweaty mess. On the first day, she took it easy on me, guiding me through the city routes. But once I was familiar with the paths, she began showing off her free-running skills, and I did my best to keep up. The more mana I stored internally, the easier it became to stay close to her, and by the third day, I was running faster than I ever had before. The wind rushed past as we vaulted over walls, climbed trees, and sprinted across rooftops.

We had become fast friend, and Cass gave me some advice that, in hindsight, should have been obvious:

"Mana should be expended with spells only as a last resort."

I realized that the more mana I had stored, the easier everything physical became. It acted as an enhancement to my existing strength, which we were actively training. When I used up some of it, the effect was diminished until I could naturally regenerate my reserves. The frustrating part was that, despite my reservoir feeling huge, my regeneration rate was painfully slow. It felt like trying to fill an Olympic pool with a garden hose.

Throughout our training, Cass made sure to pry for new and exciting curse words she could add to her repertoire, and I wasn’t proud of a few I had taught her.

I honestly didn’t think I could ever run as fast as her, even when she wasn’t using her swiftness spell. With some training I might be able to get close but even though she was a very large woman, she moved with simple grace like she’d been free running her whole life. She moved like water, moving through obstacles like they were all equal. I, on the other hand, had to weave around people, try not to trip, and scramble up walls to follow her.

I held onto Bravery because it didn’t seem to cost anything to maintain, and I could tell that the new range was much less traumatic. The more I used it, the more natural it felt, and the clearer the rune became in my mind. I could tell, though, that it was subtly influencing me, making me more comfortable with being uncomfortable.

A few times, it even activated on its own to save me from my own carelessness. On the third day, my lack of focus almost got me run over by a trader's cart driven by a Sentarian moving at surprising speed. There was no horse—just runes etched all over the cart as it rolled through the streets. Instead of dodging, mana surged into my legs, and I awkwardly launched myself into a backflip, landing on top of the cart. Fortunately, I remembered my shoes this time, and they stuck to the roof of the strange vehicle with some applied mana. I waved to a snarling Cass as I passed her, still running in the street.

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The afternoons I’d spend at Katie’s, helping her bake whatever I could think of. It turned out she was a widow. Her husband—a sailor—unfortunately just never came back a couple of years prior. Her unusual meek personality was recent as the bakery struggled with the city becoming more dangerous with monster attacks. She was also incredibly strong. The small, framed girl carried two thirty-kilo bags of flour around the kitchen like they were unruly children.

There was a surprisingly familiar overlap of ingredients available, albeit in small quantities. I quickly discovered the the Russets had a violently insatiable sweet tooth, but Doreen’s was the stuff of legend in the city. Deep-frying was a common practice, but good oil was scarce so making some glazed sourdough donuts fried in lard caused several altercations in the harbor. Russets set up and dared people to try and get in to buy their donuts. This ultimately led to some rather acrobatic fist fights in front of the bakery and then selling out of donuts almost immediately. At least the money was good.

After the fights were broken up by a few Hunters, we were advised that it might be a better idea to try making something else.

It didn’t help.

It turned out nuts and honey were plentiful on the island and once I had shown her how to make Baklava, Katie became obsessed. On the third day, by the time I had arrived at the bakery there was already half a dozen Vildar guarding the door, not willing to let me inside no matter my explanation. It was adorable, they were wearing suspiciously familiar wide-brimmed hats.

They explained that Katie had experimented with using different fruit and berry syrups on Baklava. There was no way these little mouse-folk would let me through without a fight.

Up to that point, I had basically been holding onto the Bravery spell as often as possible, so I might have been a bit arrogant with my response.

Nevertheless, the leading Vildar laughed and launched himself at me with a flying kick. It wasn’t nearly as fast as I had seen Doreen do, but it was still impressive.

Using only a sliver of mana, I slid to the side and caught the mouse out of the air, setting him down gently and patting his head. He blinked at me for a minute and seemed to realize who I was.

“Fine, the Breaker can go in but I’m watching the rest of ya,” he said to the clearly upset people wanting to get into the Bakery.

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In the evenings, I worked with Hildy to make dinner for everyone at Doreen's. On the first night, I made the baked ham, using the ingredients I found in the kitchen, which was like Katie's but with a wood stove instead of a runic oven. Doreen even had something like a refrigerator, though it was more of a portable cellar—a large box with shelves that was cool inside but not quite cold.

Bringing out the massive ham glazed with honey and cloves, I learned I had just missed Jeremy, which, quite frankly ruined my night. But Doreen declared I was hired after tasting the ham, only vaguely attempting to defend it from the eager crowd in the common room.

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The worst part of the job at Doreen's was that Hildy was truly an awful cook. Luckily, there was a back door to the kitchen that led to a small alleyway, where I could escape the smoke of burnt food and get some fresh air. Bins of what I assumed was compost were left out to be collected by the Sentarians at night—they were apparently nocturnal and used the compost for farming.

Over the next three days, several different mana beasts approached me as I sat outside in the evenings. Each one received a snack in turn—two different-sized Vulpes, small fox-like creatures, and a disconcertingly large boar with a collar. They would eat their snack and leave, but one mana beast returned every night. It took me a couple of days to figure out why it was different. It wasn’t that he was a dog, because he was definitely a dog.

There had been all sorts of mana beasts wandering around La-Roc with people—even some acting as beasts of burden, although that was typically considered cruel. I guessed it was because people here could carry much more than we could on Earth, thanks to mana. But I hadn't seen a single dog in my short time in the city and no one seemed to even know what a dog was.

He looked like a mix between a Labrador and a Pyrenees, with fur that was an orange-red like a fox's. There was an intelligence and kindness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen in the other mana beasts that came by for scraps. Naturally, I named him Red.

By the third night, I greeted him, "Hey Red, can you keep a secret?" I asked. The dog cocked his head as if to say he could. He wasn’t skittish and approached casually, ears forward, looking around me for food. I set a tray on my lap and produced two slices of ham covered in honey-mustard glaze. Finding someone to smoke the ham had been easy; however, I had learned that mustard seed was brutally expensive for some reason. Cyrus refused to budge on the price, not even a single blue coin.

Red sat down and started panting, waiting. I tossed him a piece of ham, and he caught it effortlessly, snapping it out of the air and swallowing it whole.

"Did you even taste that?" I chuckled, tossing him another piece. This time, he seemed to chew it—at least a little.

I picked up another slice for myself, but before I could take a bite, I felt a paw on my leg. I hadn’t even noticed Red move. I looked down at the paw and then at his goofy expression. As someone who grew up with dogs, I recognized the look immediately.

I reached out to pet him gently, and he moved closer so I could use both hands.

Oh.

He snatched another piece of ham, wolfing it down but staying close as I petted him.

"That was my dinner. You’re an animal!" I laughed. It was surreal, petting a dog on another world. It made me think of home—of my parents, my brother, my friends, of my own dog, Atlas. I hoped they were alright. I was here now; this world was my home, at least for now. And at least some of it made sense, I thought, looking down at Red.

"Ben! I've done it! I’ve 'folded in the cheese'! You must come observe!" Hildy called from the kitchen. The woman was incorrigible.

"I'll bet you fuckin’ didn't!" I called back, standing up and dusting myself off. "I'll see you tomorrow, Red."

Red wagged his tail as I went back inside.

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This whole time, I had met quite a few hunters at Doreen’s who were quite friendly, but don’t ask me their names. It turned out the most populated people in La-Roc were the Florans. I had seen quite a mix around but when meeting hunters I noticed that most were Aldertrees and some were a red-skinned variation, the Carmintrees. One Carmintree woman named Belouet, I think, had a distinctly French accent. I noticed she had a bracer like the one Felix had. Given that I hadn’t seen him in days, I thought I’d ask after him.

“He is in Seclusion, Breaker,” Belouet said with a thick accent. “To form a Soul Seal,”

I still didn’t really know what those were, but it was essential for becoming a Hunter and those who could form one before the exams were admitted to Sylvarus with no question. Felix had said he was close, but Cass said it was a really dangerous undertaking, even involving some kind of test.

“How long will that take?” I asked and Belouet shrugged.

“As long as it takes,” she said simply. “If he survives, he will emerge a Hunter, or he will emerge defeated.”

“If he survives?”

“Its uncommon. Normally, it damages your Runebinding capabilities if you fail. But things happen.”

That wasn’t something I was told, and it caused me pause. For the better part of the third night, I found myself feeling a bit anxious. I was hyped up over the last few days and the information really knocked me down.

Felix could die trying to become a Hunter?

I could die?

Thinking back to seeing Chas, running with Elara, watching Doreen fly around a room like a martial arts master.

Was it worth it?

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The courtyard stretched out before me, a place I knew well but couldn’t quite place. My mom, Jasmine, stood across from me, a broad grin on her face. She wore her usual shirt, and short overalls that she was always in when it was warm. She held a black staff, and so did I. It was a scene pulled straight out of a martial arts movie—practicing Tai Chi. Except something felt off. The air felt heavy, the edges of my vision blurred, and the ground seemed to shift beneath my feet.

"Come on, Ben, show me what you got!" Mom called, her voice echoing strangely, like it was bouncing around inside my head.

I lunged forward, swinging my stick, but she blocked it effortlessly. An action that seemed incredibly familiar but alien at the same time. We circled each other, the sticks clacking as we traded careful blows. I could see the sunlight glinting off the sweat on her forehead, the focus in her eyes. But then, her face shifted. Her features blurred, twisted, and reformed.

It wasn’t my mom anymore. Wait, we never practiced like this. Mom loved sports but thought martial arts were pointless—although my Aapo seemed to approve.

"What the hell, Ted? That was demented," I said, stepping back and lowering my stick.

Standing in front of me now was Ted, my little elf spirit guide, grinning like he hadn’t just messed with my head. He was wearing the same outfit my mom had been in, which only made it weirder.

Ted shrugged, his accent cutting through the dream haze. "I gotta do shit to snap you out of it, kid. Can’t have you wasting dream time."

I rubbed my forehead, trying to shake off the lingering disorientation. "It’s really fucking annoying that I can’t remember these conversations when I wake up, you know."

Ted gave me a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with that infuriating mix of wisdom and mischief. "Nah, you remember what you need to. Should get better if you do the whole Seal thing, though."

"You mean the thing that can apparently kill me if I screw it up?"

"Not if I have anything to fuckin' say about it, kid. You'll be fine. It's my job to show you how not to suck."

I frowned, trying to hold onto the details of what he was saying, but I could already feel the dream slipping away. The courtyard blurred, the colors fading, and Ted’s voice grew distant.

"Hey, stay with me, Ben. You gotta practice this shit when you’re awake, or it ain’t gonna stick," he called out, his voice echoing as if from a far-off place.

But it was no use. The dream dissolved, and I felt myself being pulled back to consciousness, the courtyard and Ted’s smirking face fading into darkness.