The morning sun bathed the streets of the Bastion in warm light, the hum of life growing louder as merchants opened their stalls and workers bustled about. Breeze, with Acacius in tow, was leading the boy through his training routine in the yard when an unsettling presence broke the peace. A man walking nearby stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Acacius. His face twisted into an abnormal expression of hostility, and without hesitation, he began to approach.

Breeze’s senses sharpened, his body tensing as the man drew closer. Acacius froze, his earlier confidence replaced by a look of dread.

“Didn’t I tell you not to show your face here again?” the man bellowed, his voice dripping angrily.

Acacius recoiled, his hands instinctively clutching Breeze’s sleeve. But before the man could take another step, Breeze moved between them, his stance calm but deliberate, his eyes locking onto the man with an intensity that stopped him in his tracks.

“Enough,” Breeze said coldly, his voice cutting through the tension. “Who are you to yell at him like that?”

The man hesitated, caught off guard by Breeze’s calm but commanding tone. Then his anger flared again. “That… that brat is my son! He has no right to be here, shaming me like this.”

Breeze’s expression didn’t waver. “Your son?” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Funny, because from where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’ve been much of a father to him.”

The man’s face turned red, his anger bubbling to the surface. “What would you know about it? This is none of your business!”

Breeze stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. “It became my business the moment you decided to show up here and harass someone under my protection. Let’s take this somewhere else.”

Without waiting for a response, Breeze grabbed the man’s arm and led him a short distance away, ensuring Acacius and his grandmother were out of earshot. Once they were alone, Breeze turned to face the man.

“Listen carefully,” Breeze began, his tone sharp and unyielding. “That boy is not your son anymore. He’s my subordinate. I recruited him, and he’s staying with his grandmother. If you so much as think about coming near him again, you’ll regret it.”

The man’s bravado faltered under Breeze’s glare. “You… you don’t scare me,” he stammered, though his shaking hands betrayed him.

Breeze leaned in, his smile a sudden, sharp thing that made the man's breath catch in his throat. It wasn't a smile of joy, but something colder, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His voice, a whisper that sent a chill down his spine, brushed his ear., his voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t need to scare you. I just need you to understand that if you harm that boy or his grandmother, I will make sure you pay for it dearly. Are we clear?” Then he added, "Oh, I forgot to mention, I've killed more than I have fingers and toes to count, so one more makes little difference." A dry, rasping laugh escaped his lips.

The man’s eyes remained fixed on the ground, convinced that the slightest upward glance would be his last, his hostility crumbling under Breeze’s relentless presence. Without another word, Breeze turned and walked away, leaving the man standing there, pale and trembling.

Back in the yard, Breeze found Acacius staring at him with wide eyes. The boy’s fear had been replaced by a glimmer of awe.

“He’s gone,” Breeze said, ruffling Acacius’s hair. “Don’t let people like him scare you. You’re stronger than that.”

"But he is... he is my father," he said and kept sobbing

'Father, huh... what a good name in bad shape.'

"Acacius, his abandonment says more about him than it does about you. Show him how grave his mistake was."

Acacius nodded hesitantly, but the tension in his shoulders eased. Wanting to lift the boy’s spirits further, Breeze decided a change of scenery was in order.

They made their way to the bustling heart of the Bastion, where the grand fountain stood as a centerpiece. Its crystalline waters sparkled in the sunlight, cascading down intricate carvings of vines and flowers. Breeze purchased a few meat buns from the couple's bakery, handing one to Acacius as they settled on a bench near the fountain.

For a while, they ate in companionable silence, the noise of the crowd a comforting backdrop. Then, Breeze spoke.

“You know, I wasn’t always like this,” he began, his tone casual but laced with sincerity. “I grew up poor, too. I had to fight for everything I had. It wasn’t easy.”

Acacius looked up at him, curiosity and a hint of skepticism in his eyes. “Really? But you’re so strong now.”

Breeze chuckled. “Strength doesn’t come overnight, kid. It’s something you build, bit by bit, with every challenge you face. And trust me, I’ve faced my fair share.”

"You know, I'm grateful for my experience growing up poor. It taught me how harsh life can be without support and the importance of self-reliance. I've noticed that many people who grow up with privilege sometimes struggle to adapt when that support is no longer there. And who's fault do you think? It's as clear as day, that the parents are the source of the problem so being abandoned could turn out to be the best thing that happen in your life."

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He carefully avoided mentioning his age or the extent of his father's former affection. Instead, he focused on lessons that would resonate with Acacius. “You know the most important thing I learned? Never let people decide your worth. You’re the only one who gets to do that.”

Acacius’s grip on his bun tightened, his expression thoughtful. “Do you think I can be strong, too?”

“I know you can,” Breeze said firmly. “And I’ll help you. I’ll teach you every chance I get. If I’m not around, it means I’m out on a mission or dealing with something important. But I promise, I’ll always come back.”

The boy’s eyes lit up with a mix of determination and gratitude. “I promise to work hard. I won’t let you down.”

Breeze smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

After their meal, Breeze walked Acacius back to his grandmother’s house. Before leaving, he handed her a small pouch of coins.

“For food and anything else you need,” he said. “Until I can find a job for Acacius, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

The old woman’s eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re a good boy, Breeze. Thank you.”

Breeze nodded, then turned to Acacius. “Keep practicing what I taught you. I’ll check on you soon.”

Acacius nodded eagerly, his earlier fear replaced by a sense of purpose. Breeze’s heart swelled with joy as he left, knowing he had made a difference.

The Monster Extermination Society (MES) was as lively as ever when Breeze arrived. The air buzzed with the chatter of hunters and adventurers, each seeking their next challenge. Breeze made his way to the quest board, scanning the available missions. Most were too dangerous or time-consuming, but one caught his eye: a simple hunting job for a small but troublesome Wild Beasts.

“Perfect,” he muttered, taking the parchment to the counter.

Brother Oak glanced at the quest and nodded. “Straightforward job. Just be careful—those little beasts can be tricky.”

Breeze smirked. “I’ll manage.”

With the quest registered, he set out immediately, eager to complete it and ensure his funds didn’t dwindle. The request came from a wealthy merchant who wanted the hides of jackals to craft a luxurious coat for his fiancée. The merchant had been explicit—the hides needed to be pristine, free of scratches or damage. Breeze knew this would require precision.

The first step was gathering information. Breeze asked a few veteran hunters who frequented the outskirts of the Bastion, asking about the jackals’ usual haunts. A hunter who looks friendly shared a helpful tip: "They like the rocky areas by the eastern cliffs. The sharp terrain keeps most monsters away, but it’s perfect for them."

With that lead, Breeze set out for the cliffs. The jagged rocks glistened under the moonlight, casting long shadows. Breeze moved carefully, his steps silent as he scouted the area. It didn’t take long to spot the jackals. They were lean, their coats a striking mix of tawny and gray, blending seamlessly with their surroundings.

Breeze observed them from a distance, noting their movements and patterns. Aware that a direct confrontation would not only be dangerous but would also ruin the hides, he chose a subtler approach, so he devised a plan. Using the wind to mask his scent, he circled around to a narrow pathway he had noticed earlier—an area the jackals used to travel between their den and the hunting grounds. Setting up snares made from durable, finely knotted ropes, he ensured they were placed at just the right height to trap without harming.

Breeze waited with meticulous patience, fully aware that the optimal hunting hours for jackals were at dusk and dawn. The dusk had come and the cool air nipped at his skin as he remained motionless, observing his surroundings with a hunter’s vigilance. His preparation paid off when the first jackal emerged, its innate curiosity guiding it directly into the carefully laid snare. Moving with practiced efficiency, Breeze subdued the animal by administering a precise spray of a highly concentrated sedative. The solution was potent enough to ensure unconsciousness without causing harm, leaving the hide completely unblemished.

He repeated this methodical process with unwavering precision, capturing each animal without incident. After a thorough inspection, Breeze identified four fully grown males, likely the offspring of the previous litter. Aware of the jackal's familial structure, which keeps the pups together until they mature and seek mates, he whispered solemnly, "I'm sorry you didn’t get the chance to find your partners." Swiftly and humanely, he ended their lives, conscious of the need to work quickly. He skillfully skinned the jackals, ensuring the pelts remained immaculate, before departing the area with calculated haste. He knew the scent of blood could attract the alpha male, but by the time that occurred, Breeze would be far from the danger zone.

The pristine quality of the hides stood as a testament to Breeze’s careful planning and expert execution. Moving swiftly but cautiously, he left the cliffs behind, his mission a complete success.

Back at the Bastion, the merchant inspected the hides with a critical eye, his expression shifting to one of satisfaction. “Impressive work,” he said, handing Breeze a pouch heavy with coins. “These will make a fine coat. My fiancée will be thrilled.”

Breeze accepted the payment with a composed nod, his mind already strategizing the allocation of the unexpected windfall. The merchant, evidently thrilled by the impeccable quality of the jackal hides, had rewarded Breeze with six silver coins instead of the initially agreed-upon four. This augmented payment far exceeded Breeze’s expectations, providing not only for his immediate needs but also ensuring ample resources for Acacius and his grandmother until the boy could secure a sustainable occupation. As he departed the merchant’s lavish establishment, Breeze experienced a subdued but palpable sense of accomplishment, recognizing his aptitude for transforming even the most exacting assignments into opportunities for success.

As Breeze made his way through the crowded streets, thoughts of Samar weighed heavily on his mind. The rumors circulating about her troubled him, though he knew her strength of character would likely shield her from giving them much weight. Still, an unsettling worry persisted. Only yesterday, his master had issued stern warnings against spreading such gossip, but Breeze feared the message hadn't reached far enough yet. The prospect of Samar facing these whispers alone gnawed at him, yet he feared that bringing up the rumors might only serve to inform her of their existence, transforming him from protector to the very source of her troubles. He found himself torn between two comforts: trust in his master's authority to quell the rumors, and his own desire to stand as her defender. The urge to protect her warred against the risk of drawing unwanted attention to accusations best left to fade. Running a hand through his hair in frustration, Breeze muttered, 'Enough of this! I'll see her myself and make sure she's alright. No point in getting tangled in circles—this isn't what I'm made for.'