I gazed at the moon for quite some time. It should be about 9 o'clock by now. Should I wait until my rune speaks to me, or maybe do something useful, like helping the villagers? I wondered.

"So, you can't use your powers without having a rune?" I asked the old man, who had been sitting silently nearby.

He laughed, a deep, almost weary sound. "The power and strength are already within me, boy. The rune just amplifies it, multiplies it many times over." With a swift motion, he leapt down from the rock he'd been perched on, landing softly despite his age. Dragging his feet through the graveyard's soil, I watched as small sprouts of life emerged from the earth.

With a mere touch to the dead branches hanging above us, leaves began to sprout. Then, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he pulled a vine from the palm of his hand. It twisted and curled as if it had a life of its own.

I couldn't hide my amazement. Seeing this in person for the first time made my pulse quicken with excitement.

"But," he continued, his voice dropping a little, "this is all just parlor tricks." The vine extended further, producing a small fruit in his hand. "With skills like these, I couldn't stand a chance in real combat. A rune is needed for that."

"Why don't you just ask the king to return your rune?" I questioned.

He chuckled again, though this time with a darker edge. "Oh, I don't need to ask. I can summon my rune anytime. All I need to do is call for it, and it'll appear."

I blinked, surprised. "Wait, then why haven't you? And, how do u know all this despite having your rune for just a small period of time?"

"Once you get your rune," he explained, his eyes fixed on the graveyard, "you also get an instant understanding of how to wield it, a sort of manual for every attack, every trick you could ever perform."

It started to make sense now, the weight of the rune, the power it granted. But still, something felt off.

"Then why don't you summon it?" I asked again.

He slowly walked to a nearby grave, his hand gently resting on the weathered stone. "Do you think it would be happy, being summoned here?" His voice softened, filled with a kind of sorrow I hadn't expected.

He looked up at me, his eyes hollow. "I failed, boy. I failed the only task I was given. Even with my rune, I couldn't protect this once-beautiful land."

He was right, I thought. And now, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of hatred toward the king. Ugh, what should I do about the rune now?

"Go home, child. It's getting dark," the old man said, his voice gentler this time. "The beasts may show up if they sense two players in one place."

"But what about you? I can't just leave you here," I replied, unease creeping into my tone.

He chuckled again, softer, more resigned. "I've been here for 400 years, boy. Another night won't make a difference. Now go on."

I didn't want to leave him alone in this forsaken land, but I had no choice. Hunger gnawed at me, reminding me of my own needs. "Well then," I said reluctantly, "I'll come see you tomorrow."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and left the graveyard, the oppressive silence of the place weighing on my mind as I walked away.

The village was still lit, a warm glow spilling out from the homes and shops, cutting through the deepening night. The stores were still open, bustling with people wrapping up their day. I wandered into one of the small stores and bought some flatbread and roasted root vegetables, the kind they often sold in these simple villages. Alongside it, I picked up a portion of dried meat and a small jar of honeyed fruits, staples that kept the villagers going through long, hard days.

I had already used two of the meals provided by my refugee card. I wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but at least it ensured I had food for now. As I wandered through the streets, looking for a place to stay the night, one hotel caught my eye. It wasn't the biggest or the brightest, but it had a certain charm—the building looked old yet well-maintained, with ivy crawling up its stone walls. A small wooden sign hung above the door, swaying gently in the night breeze. What really drew me in, though, was the inviting smell of fresh bread wafting from the kitchen. It gave the place a homey feel, something that seemed rare around here.

I stepped inside and found an old woman at the register, her hair tied back in a simple knot. She looked up as I approached.

"Oh, young man, are you looking for a place to stay?" she asked, her voice kind but businesslike.

"Yes, I'd like to stay for the night," I replied.

"That would be 25 coppers," she said.

I handed her my card, and she examined it closely, her eyes scanning the details. "Hmm, a beginner, eh? Well, it seems you still have your two free nights."

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She gestured for me to follow her, and we walked down a narrow hallway lit by dim lanterns. She opened a door to a small, simple room. "The restroom and bath are on the ground floor. You've got a single bed here and a furnace to heat the room."

"Thank you," I replied, grateful for the warmth and quiet.

She gave me a nod and left, closing the door softly behind her.

I examined the room—four walls, one window, a wooden door, a single bed, and a furnace sitting in the corner. Basic but enough for the night. My gaze lingered on the furnace for a moment.

"How does the furnace run here?" I asked the messenger, half-expecting silence but getting an answer.

"It operates on a spell from a fire stone," the voice responded calmly.

"So, there are a few devices here using mana," I muttered to myself, intrigued by how magic and mundane life intertwined. I stretched my tired limbs. "Guess I'll take a bath before turning in."

I grabbed my worn clothes and stepped out of the room, heading downstairs. The hallway was dim, with just a faint orange glow from the lanterns flickering along the stone walls. I followed the signs pointing toward the bathhouse, the soft murmur of water guiding me as I reached the ground floor.

The bath was tucked away in a small, cozy space, made of smooth stone. There were separate pools of water—one steaming hot and the other cool. The stonework was well-polished, and the scent of herbs hung in the air, making the atmosphere almost serene. A faint mist floated just above the water's surface, glowing in the light of several mana crystals embedded in the walls.

I spotted a small washing basin in the corner, along with a metal frame next to it—clearly for drying clothes. The frame had intricate carvings that resembled the furnace upstairs, and it hummed faintly with warmth, powered by the same fire stone magic.

I quickly began washing my clothes in the basin, scrubbing them thoroughly. The water in the basin turned murky as dirt and grime from my travels washed away. Once done, I placed my damp clothes over the metal frame. Within moments, heat began to radiate from the device, and I watched as the moisture evaporated, leaving my clothes drying faster than I had expected.

With my clothes taken care of, I turned to the bath. The hot water was welcoming as I slipped into the pool, the warmth sinking into my tired muscles. I let out a deep breath, the weight of the day momentarily melting away. The steam curled around me as I leaned back, letting the heat wash over my body. The herbs in the water eased the tension in my shoulders, and for the first time in a while, I felt like I could truly relax.

After what felt like both an eternity and just a few moments, I climbed out of the bath and dried off. My clothes were still a little warm but perfectly dry now, thanks to the mana-powered frame. I dressed quickly, feeling refreshed, and made my way back up to my room.

The bed wasn't luxurious, but at that moment, it looked more inviting than anything. I laid down, the soft crackling of the furnace in the corner lulling me into a peaceful sleep.

I don't usually dream, but this time was different. This was my first real sleep in this world, aside from the nap I had taken when the messenger needed to update me.

I stood in utter darkness. It was strange—I could move, I could feel the cold emptiness pressing in around me, but I wasn't scared. I had already braced myself for something unsettling. A nightmare, maybe. But I wasn't particularly terrified. With a straight face, I wandered through the darkness, silent, not bothering to call out to anyone.

Suddenly, a voice broke through the void, muffled and distant, yet clear enough to cut through the silence.

"Do you feel good, Owen? Are you satisfied after finding a good life? A life of your choice?" the voice taunted, dripping with malice. "You left us. You left your parents. You abandoned your friends. You want to pass on alone? Walking on the bodies of the dead? You are here because of us, Owen. You dare leave us in hell?"

The voice seemed to echo around me, as though it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was a twisted, mocking tone, as if it was trying to burrow under my skin. But I knew better. It sounded like my parents, but I could tell it was a lie, a trick trying to provoke me.

I shrugged it off. "Think whatever you want. Mimicking my parents? Trying to make me feel something? Hatred? Confusion? Doubt?" I smirked in the darkness, defiant. "Should I feel bad for leaving my old life behind?"

The taunting words meant nothing to me. If anything, I felt liberated. "If anything, I feel good being here," I said aloud, knowing full well that the voice could hear me. "Let my old life rot in hell. I'll enjoy the life I live here and become the first to clear this game. And I'm not a Rowe anymore my name here is... Eldric Zephyris."

For a moment, the voice fell silent, as if stunned by my words. Then, another voice spoke—this time, a soft, melodic female voice.

"You are hard," she said, her tone calm but curious. "Your life is clouded. I cannot see how far you will go in this world, but I do know you are special."

The space around me began to shift. The once oppressive darkness melted away, replaced by a brilliant light that grew brighter with each passing moment.

"Well then," she continued, her voice soothing, "I'll assist you on your journey."

The light flared, blinding me momentarily, and when I opened my eyes, I was back in my bed. A strange weight pressed down on my chest, as if the dream had left something behind. I inhaled sharply, blinking away the remnants of that surreal world, my mind still spinning with the memory of the voices.

I sat up in the hard bed that, just hours before, had felt comfortable enough. The night had passed in the blink of an eye. I closed my eyes briefly and flexed my arms, feeling the tension ease from my muscles. With a deep breath, I stood up from the bed.

Clank.

Something hit the floor. My eyes darted down, and there it was—a pale yellow stone, darkened at the edges, lying on the ground. I recognized it instantly. My heart raced, and for a moment, I didn't know how to react. Then, almost instinctively, I made a triumphant gesture—"Yessss!" I whispered under my breath.

Overcome with excitement, I dropped to the floor as if showing respect to some unseen presence, my hands trembling slightly as I picked up the stone. It was smooth, almost oval in shape, and fit perfectly in my palm. As I turned it over, I noticed the symbol etched into its surface.

It wasn't like the rigid, sharp lightning bolts I'd seen in illustrations. This one was different—more fluid, more alive. The lines curved gracefully, winding through the stone like a coiled serpent ready to strike. Each bend in the symbol seemed deliberate, as if it captured the unpredictable, chaotic nature of lightning itself. The curves flowed outward, almost touching the edges of the stone, which was nearly circular in shape but still bore slight imperfections. The energy emanating from it felt raw, yet controlled, as though it had been waiting for this moment.

I held it in my hands, mesmerized.

"Congratulations, Eldric Zephyris, on obtaining your rune."

The words echoed in my mind, carrying a weight that felt both exhilarating and intimidating. This was the beginning of something far beyond what I could have imagined—power in its purest form, sealed within the stone now resting in my hands.