Arthanis trailed behind Vaendalle, his gaze sweeping over the lively village streets. His surroundings were a blend of the familiar and the foreign. The signs above many shops bore the name "Terabis," a subtle reminder of where he was—his new reality.

Soon, they arrived at a modest two-story wooden house, its weathered exterior speaking of years of history. A small orchard stood next to the house, casting shadows over the worn fence that surrounded the property. A well sat quietly to the side, its water promising cool refreshment. Vaendalle opened the door with a creak and gestured for Arthanis to enter.

“Make yourself at home. I’ll cook something for you to eat. You can wash up first,” Vaendalle said, disappearing into the kitchen on the left with an ease that suggested this was routine.

Crossing the threshold, Arthanis paused to take in the scene. The house was warm, filled with the scents of wood and spices. The kitchen, from which inviting aromas were already wafting, was open and homely. A living room with well-worn furniture beckoned, and a small storage room led to the orchard beyond. A wooden staircase, worn from years of use, spiraled upward toward the second floor.

Arthanis climbed the stairs, his steps slow as if the act of moving deeper into the house was pulling him into the remnants of the real Arthanis’s life. There were two rooms—one tidy, almost meticulously kept, with a bed, desk, and closet. The other was a chaotic mess, filled with scattered knives, leather gear, alchemy bottles, and personal effects. It was unmistakably his room, or at least, the room of the man whose life he had stepped into.

With a sigh, Arthanis moved inside, tidying up the mess, organizing things without thinking. His mind wandered, grappling with the fragmented memories still returning to him in bits and pieces. He shed his armor and weapons, swapping them for more comfortable clothes that suited the peace of the village rather than the dangers of the forest.

By the time he returned downstairs, a delicious aroma filled the air, making his stomach growl in anticipation. Peeking into the kitchen, he saw Vaendalle tending to a pot, a soft smile on his weathered face. Deciding to freshen up before the meal, Arthanis headed outside to the well.

The cold water was sharp against his skin, washing away the grime and blood from the battle. As the water dripped down, he glanced at Mire, the floating orb of light that hovered nearby, ever-present and yet invisible to others. No one in the village seemed to notice it, further confirming his suspicion that he alone could see it.

After his bath, he wrapped a towel around his waist and leaned back against the well, his eyes drifting toward the setting sun. The sky blazed with hues of orange, red, and violet as the day gave way to evening. He allowed himself a faint smile, enjoying the momentary peace that this world offered.

But that peace was short-lived.

A sudden flash on Mire's surface drew his attention. His heart skipped as a notification blinked ominously before his eyes:

─ Status Conditions: Life remaining – 25:11:12.

Arthanis frowned. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand. His lifespan was ticking away, a constant reminder of the reality of his situation. He had to find a way to extend his life, or he would perish here, in this world, before he ever had a chance to unravel the mystery behind his existence.

He glanced back toward the house, the warm lights of the village flickering around him, contrasting sharply with the cold truth he carried within. As the sounds of laughter, clattering armor, and the chatter of villagers filled the air, Arthanis couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the harmony around him, he didn’t quite belong here. He was an outsider, a shadow in the light. He had come from another world, and while he walked among them, his fate was far different.

He wondered if there were others like him, caught between worlds, or if he was destined to walk this path alone.

“Arthanis!” Vaendalle’s voice called out from inside, breaking through his thoughts.

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Arthanis snapped back to the present, the warmth of Vaendalle’s voice pulling him from the cold edge of his worries. He glanced toward the house, where the light now shone brighter, more vibrant. The world around him sharpened, each color more vivid, each sound more distinct. For a moment, he let the weight of his existential dilemma slip away.

“Arthanis! Come on, the food’s ready!” Vaendalle called again, more insistent.

“Coming!” Arthanis replied, quickly dressing before heading inside.

The dining table was a feast laid out before him—roasted venison, mashed potatoes, bread fresh from the oven, and a pitcher of cold lemonade. The aroma was intoxicating, each scent pulling at his hunger. Arthanis sat down, eyeing the spread with childlike wonder. He bent over the plate, inhaling deeply.

“This smells incredible. What is it?” he asked.

“Venison with a vegetable sauce,” Vaendalle said with a chuckle, setting down a basket of bread. “Goes well with the bread.”

Arthanis wasted no time, piling the venison onto the bread, adding sauce, and biting into it. The explosion of flavors made him groan in satisfaction. “This is amazing!” he mumbled through a mouthful of food, reaching for another piece.

Vaendalle watched with amusement as Arthanis devoured the meal. “Easy there, lad. There’s plenty.”

After a few more bites, Arthanis looked up and noticed Vaendalle hadn’t touched a plate. “Aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“I ate earlier,” Vaendalle said with a smile. “Go on, enjoy.”

Arthanis grinned and continued eating until the table was cleared. “That was incredible,” he said, leaning back and rubbing his full stomach.

Vaendalle nodded, then his expression shifted, becoming more serious. “So, how was your time in the forest?”

Arthanis hesitated, the truth of his situation a tangled web in his mind. The memory of the real Arthanis fleeing into the forest still flickered at the edges of his thoughts, but he couldn’t reveal everything. Not yet. He kept his face calm and composed.

“The forest was… an adventure. I wanted to clear my head, get some air, you know? Found a cave, lived off the land for a while. It was quiet—until I ran into Miera and her family, of course. That’s when things got complicated.”

Vaendalle raised an eyebrow. “Complicated? How so?”

Arthanis met his gaze, his voice steady. “They were ambushed by goblins. It was a close call, but I couldn’t just walk away. I joined the fight and got them out of there.”

The older man’s eyes softened with pride. “That’s quite the story, lad. You’ve changed out there, haven’t you?”

Arthanis paused, considering his words carefully. “I’ve learned that being alone isn’t the answer. It’s easy to isolate yourself, but it’s harder to realize that you need people. Solitude might give you peace, but it won’t give you purpose.”

Vaendalle smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “You’ve matured, Arthanis. More than I could’ve hoped. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Arthanis replied, his voice quieter, more introspective. He wasn’t sure how much of the real Arthanis’s feelings were bleeding through, but for now, they felt like his own.

Vaendalle stood, stretching with a grin. “Come on, then. Let’s see if that forest adventure has made you any stronger. To the training grounds.”

Arthanis blinked. “Training grounds?”

“Of course! Let’s see what you’ve learned.”

They left the house, following a path bathed in moonlight toward the training grounds. As they approached, Arthanis saw villagers sparring under the soft glow of torches, honing their skills. The clatter of steel and the grunts of effort filled the night air.

Vaendalle stopped at the edge of the training grounds, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his weathered face. “Pick your weapon, lad. Let’s see what you've got.”

Arthanis approached the weapon rack, his eyes scanning the various choices. He picked up a wooden dagger and sword, testing their weight in his hands. The wooden blades felt light—almost too light, compared to the heavy steel he was used to. His gaze flickered to Vaendalle, who stood ready, a gleaming sword sheathed at his side.

Arthanis narrowed his eyes, skepticism creeping into his voice. “You’ve got to be joking. You’re going to fight me with a real sword while I’m stuck with wood?”

Vaendalle chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “Don’t be a fool, boy. The sword stays sheathed. I’ll use it as a blunt weapon. Consider this your lesson on improvisation.” He shifted his stance, calm and confident, motioning for Arthanis to approach. “Now, show me what the forest taught you. Don’t hold back.”

Arthanis gritted his teeth, gripping the wooden sword tightly. The air around them seemed to thicken with tension as he dashed forward, aiming a blow at Vaendalle’s chest. His movements were quick, deliberate. He ordered Mire to scan Vaendalle, planning his next strike.

But before he could close the distance, Mire’s voice echoed urgently in his mind.

[Warning! Target’s power level is too high. Unable to track movements.]

Panic flickered through Arthanis as he attempted to pull back, but it was already too late. Vaendalle moved like a blur—faster than Arthanis could register. A sudden, sharp thud rang out as the flat of Vaendalle’s sword connected with Arthanis’s back, sending him sprawling to the ground. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, leaving him gasping.

“What the—? What just happened?” Arthanis wheezed, eyes wide as he struggled to comprehend how fast Vaendalle had moved.