Two months had passed since Wolfhart left, and the ache of his absence hadn’t dulled.

Ava sat in their old meeting spot by the river gate, the crumpled letter he’d left behind clutched tightly in her hand. She had read it a dozen times, searching for answers that weren’t there.

“I’ve gotten into trouble so deep I can’t stay in the kingdom anymore. Please don’t try to find me. It’s safer this way.”

The words haunted her. She couldn’t understand what he was thinking—why he hadn’t come to her for help. They had grown up together, shared dreams of seeing the Nexus of Worlds and exploring the unknown. How could he leave without even asking if she wanted to help him? Without even considering that she might want to leave too? They’d grown up together, spent endless nights lying under the stars, talking about what lay beyond the Ash Kingdom. Seeing the Nexus of Worlds had been their dream.

And now, he was gone.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at the letter. She wasn’t just sad. She was angry. Angry that he had shut her out, angry that he hadn’t trusted her enough to share his burden. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the letter tighter, her vision blurring with unshed tears. How could he leave like that? Without even a goodbye in person.

“I would’ve helped you,” she whispered into the empty air, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. But more than anything, she was worried. The weird, nerdy boy she had grown up with—the one who could talk for hours about gravity and mana theory—was gone. In his place was someone she barely recognized. Someone running from something far bigger than himself.

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Three Days After Leaving the Capital of Ash

The caravan rumbled eastward toward Drugar, its enchanted wheels bumping along the uneven road. I sat in one of the cushioned seats inside the cabin, a vehicle unlike anything he had ever seen. It was massive, a linked series of five cabs with wheels that seemed almost ornamental given their magical propulsion. The structure reminded me of a strange fusion of a shipping truck, a train, and a tank, with the luxury of a cruise ship hidden beneath its armored surface.

It was clear why the fare had been so steep.

The interior was comfortable, if crowded. Families with children, lone travelers, and a handful of merchants shared the space, all bound for destinations deeper into the Forest Kingdom of Drugar. The hum of conversation and the occasional clang of shifting cargo filled the air, but my attention kept drifting to the heavily armed guards stationed along the caravan; they had been a constant feature of the last few days.

They were an intimidating sight, their weapons polished and their eyes sharp. It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of him. I leaned forward, glancing at the young man seated across from me. The scruffy figure looked to be in his early twenties, his hardy appearance suggesting a life spent on the road.

“Why so many guards?” I asked tentatively.

The young man scoffed, barely cracking an eye open. “Seriously?” he muttered, his tone incredulous.

Before I could respond, the older man sitting beside the younger one chuckled and leaned in, his grizzled features softening slightly. “Judging by your clothes, boy, I’d wager you’ve never left the walls of a city before.”

I stiffened but said nothing.

“You look like a little prince to me,” the man added with a smirk. “But I’ll answer your question anyway.” The older man straightened in his seat, gesturing out the window toward the forested horizon. “Raids don’t just happen to cities. They happen to travelers, too. Anyone out here for longer than a week is fair game. That’s why we’ve got guards. If your crew’s big enough, you’ll get hit night one. And let me tell you, boy, that’s a lesson you don’t want to learn the hard way.”

“Raids?” I asked, his brows furrowing.

The older man nodded. “Portals spawn across the Nexus all the time. Monsters, raiders, and worse wander through. Some of them even seek out the portals looking for trouble. I’ve even heard some races and tribes covet them as a religious experience and either way once they’re here, they’ll hunt down anything that moves. Doesn’t matter if it’s a caravan, a lone traveler, or a city—it’s all the same to them.”

My stomach turned at the thought. “What happens if you get caught in a raid?”

The older man’s eyes darkened. “If you’re lucky, you survive. If you’re not... well, let’s just say the gods’ Hall of Matchmakings isn’t always fair.”

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At the mention of the hall, Wolfhart perked up. He’d heard of it before, but the academy’s lessons had been vague. “What’s the Hall of Matchmakings?”

The man chuckled again, though there was no humor in it this time. “You really are green, aren’t you? The hall is where the gods match attackers and defenders. It’s how they keep things ‘balanced.’ When you’re caught in a raid, you’re not just fighting random monsters—you’re fighting a force that’s been deemed your equal. It's also the only place you can use Favor.”

My thoughts raced. “And... Favor? What is that?”

The older man raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “Favor’s the gods’ currency. You earn it in the hall by surviving, by fighting, by winning. It’s not just for bragging rights, either. Favor can buy you things—legendary weapons, rare skills, even profile changes.”

My breath caught. Profile changes? The implications were staggering.

“Don’t get any ideas, boy,” the man warned, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Favor’s not easy to come by, and the hall doesn’t care if you’re ready or not. If you get matched, you fight—or you die.”

The younger man beside him stirred, groaning as he shifted in his seat. “Trevor, stop scaring the kid,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

Trevor laughed, clapping Me on the shoulder. “Don’t mind Heinrich. He’s just cranky when he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.”

I managed a weak smile, but my mind was still reeling. The hall, the raids, the Favor—it was a stark reminder of just how far I was from what I understood. The caravan bumped along the uneven road, the massive wheels kicking up dust as they pressed deeper into the wilderness. Night was falling, and with it came the shadows of a world I barely comprehended.

The caravan ride turned out to be an endurance test of patience. The first six days blurred together, an endless rhythm of wheels rumbling over uneven roads, the occasional jostle of luggage, and the hum of the caravan’s enchantments. I quickly learned that the excitement of travel wore off fast when all you had to look at were the same sprawling forests and dirt paths.

Trevor proved to be a surprisingly decent companion. When I could catch him in the mood, he’d regale me with stories about his years on the road—tales of narrow escapes from raiders, the strange creatures he’d seen, and the odd jobs that had carried him across Minor Eden. Heinrich, on the other hand, was a man of few words, content to nap or gaze out the window with a scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. Occasionally, Trevor would poke him awake to chide him for being rude, but their dynamic was more amusing than tense.

As for me, I split my time between making awkward small talk and battling boredom. The caravan’s interior wasn’t exactly designed for entertainment. Sure, it was comfortable enough, but there was only so much staring out the window or rereading maps that I could handle before my mind started to wander.

That’s when Hexa came to the rescue.

"Let me guess," she said dryly on the fifth afternoon. "You’re thinking, 'I’d give anything for some kind of distraction right now.'"

“Guilty,” I muttered under my breath, careful not to draw attention to myself.

“Well, as you know, I have a library of interactive simulations. Think of them as... mental exercises.” She paused. “Or games, if you prefer.”

The offer was too tempting to resist. Hexa loaded a basic version of something resembling Pong, the simple arcade game. It projected in my mind’s eye like a floating screen, and I controlled the paddles by subtly moving my hands.

Or at least, I tried to be subtle.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?” Trevor asked the first time he caught me swiping at the air.

I froze, realizing how strange I must have looked. “Uh... stretching?” I said weakly, earning a dubious look from him and a smirk from Heinrich, who for once looked amused.

After that, I tried to be more discreet, but it wasn’t easy. The games helped pass the time, though, and Hexa even got creative, introducing more complex simulations as the days dragged on. Still, even with her help, the monotony of travel gnawed at me.

By the time the seventh night rolled around, I was worn thin by the tedium. The caravan had settled into its evening routine, the guards taking up their posts as the passengers prepared to sleep. The air inside the cab was stifling, a mix of body heat and the faint smell of dried food and damp clothes.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in a deep, inky blue. Outside, the sounds of nocturnal wildlife began to stir—chirps, rustles, and the occasional distant howl.

I leaned back in my seat, my hood pulled low over my face. Trevor was snoring softly in the corner, and Heinrich was idly sharpening a knife, his expression unreadable. For once, the rumble of the caravan’s wheels seemed quieter, the rhythm almost lulling me to sleep.

Then Hexa’s voice broke through the silence.

“Mild subsonic noise detected,” she said, her tone sharper than usual. “Your senses indicate some form of power discharge nearby.”

I sat up straighter, my heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean, a power discharge?” I whispered, careful not to wake the others.

“Uncertain,” she replied. “But it’s close. Less than a kilometer. The sound patterns and energy fluctuations are consistent with... combat.”

The word sent a chill down my spine. My hand instinctively moved to my coat, fingers brushing against the hidden compartment where I kept my remaining coins and my Identify ring.

The caravan rumbled on, its pace unchanged. But now, every bump and jostle felt ominous, every shadow outside the window a potential threat. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the end of the week wasn’t just a coincidence. Something was coming, and it wasn’t going to wait for an invitation.