The sun fought a losing battle against the heavy clouds hanging over Kyros, casting the farmland in a muted, gray light. Gabriel Reyes leaned against the rickety cart, sweat dripping down his face as he hefted another bundle of dry stalks onto the pile. The soil beneath his boots was cracked and stubborn, much like the land itself—a place that seemed to resist every effort to thrive.

“This life,” Gabriel muttered, wiping his brow, “is the gift that keeps on giving.”

“Gabriel, you missed a spot!” Sorin Kael’s voice rang out from behind, dripping with the smugness of someone who wasn’t lifting a finger to help.

Without turning, Gabriel sighed. “Thank you for your valuable input, Sorin. Truly, my day would be incomplete without it.”

Sorin, ever the picture of confidence with his wavy black hair and smirk that could outlast a storm, strolled over. “I live to serve. Someone has to keep you honest.”

“Honest, huh?” Gabriel shot back. “Maybe next time you can serve by actually doing something useful, like helping.”

Sorin pretended to think it over, tapping his chin. “No, I think I’ll stick to supervision. It suits me better.”

Nearby, Jordan Vale worked silently, his dark hands moving methodically as he tied off another bundle with precision. Tall and stoic, Jordan rarely spoke, but when he did, it always carried weight. Gabriel admired that about him—though he’d never admit it out loud.

“Sorin,” Gabriel called out, jerking a thumb toward Jordan, “take notes. That’s what a good work ethic looks like.”

Sorin glanced at Jordan and grinned. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Jordan, ever unbothered, didn’t look up. “I’ll leave the fun to you two.”

The three of them made an unusual group by Kyros’ standards. Orphans were hardly rare in these parts, but sticking together was less common. Gabriel’s family had been merchants before they were wiped out in a senseless battle. Sorin’s family had suffered a similar fate, though neither of them spoke about it much. As for Jordan, he rarely spoke of his past as a former slave to one of the renegade factions, and the others respected his silence.

Sorin flipped open a battered notebook, the pages filled with scribbles and numbers. “Alright, here’s the deal. If we don’t hit our sales goal this month, we’re screwed. No tools, no seeds, no food.”

“Fantastic,” Gabriel muttered, tossing another bundle onto the cart. “You really know how to brighten a guy’s day.”

“Call it what you want,” Sorin replied, “but we’re taking this cart to Kaelholm, and I’ll handle the selling. You and Jordan grab supplies. Simple enough?”

Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Let’s get going before you write me a novel on budgeting.”

The road to Kaelholm was as miserable as ever—cracked dirt, uneven stones, and gnarled trees that stretched toward the sky like skeletal fingers. Farmers shuffled past with weary expressions, their carts loaded with the barest of harvests. The air was thick with dust and the faint, ever-present scent of desperation.

Gabriel walked beside the cart, his boots kicking up small clouds of dirt. “You ever think about how this world seems rigged against us?” he asked, glancing at Sorin.

Sorin smirked. “Oh, constantly. Care to elaborate?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Gabriel gestured vaguely to the horizon. “Take the whole system. Mana, Aura, and then there’s us. Praxia. It’s like they handed us blunt sticks and told us to go fight dragons.”

“At least Praxia doesn’t kill you if you mess up,” Jordan said, his voice calm and measured.

“Sure,” Gabriel replied, “but it’s hard to impress anyone when the guy next to you can set a forest on fire with a flick of his wrist.”

“And then there’s the nobles,” Sorin added, his tone sharpening. “Born with Circles in their cores, set for life. Meanwhile, we’re out here breaking our backs for what? Bronze coins?”

Gabriel let out a dry laugh. “Don’t forget the Royal House of Kyros. Sitting pretty in their castle while the rest of us rot out here. Bet they don’t even know Kyros exists.”

“They might,” Sorin said, grinning, “if someone here manages to awaken a 7th Circle Aura.”

“Right after pigs start flying,” Gabriel muttered.

The conversation shifted when Sorin suddenly changed his tone, his grin fading. “And then there’s the Northern Duke. The perfect noble. Silver hair, blue eyes, strength that makes everyone swoon.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “He’s strong, though. You can’t deny that.”

Gabriel stayed silent, his expression unreadable. He smiled faintly but said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Kaelholm was chaos incarnate. Merchants shouted over one another, barbarians haggled in guttural tones, and monster hunters displayed their kills with exaggerated flair. The air was alive with noise, spice, and the faint tang of sweat.

As planned, the trio split up. Sorin stayed with the cart to sell their harvest, Jordan went to buy supplies, and Gabriel wandered deeper into the market, scanning stalls for anything useful.

That’s when he saw him—a young man standing awkwardly near the edge of the crowd. His fine clothes were dirtied but still screamed nobility, making him stick out like a sore thumb. Gabriel sighed. Another fool who thought he could survive in Kyros.

As Gabriel passed, the man’s eyes locked onto him. His posture straightened, and he called out. “Wait!”

Gabriel ignored him, quickening his pace. Who’s this idiot? And why is he talking to me?

“Wait!” the voice called again, louder this time.

Gabriel kept walking until—“Aren’t you Celestia’s ex-husband?”

He froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned, his green eyes narrowing. “How do you know what I look like?”

The man smiled nervously, his hand brushing against the pouch at his belt. “Celestia’s story is famous. And your face… well, it’s recognizable. You were at several ceremonies with her, weren’t you? The papers had sketches.” Gabriel let out a dry laugh. “Wonderful. That’s just what I needed. Fame as her footnote.”

The man hesitated, his eyes darting toward a group of rough-looking men who lingered nearby. Gabriel followed his gaze and sighed.

“Listen,” Gabriel said, keeping his voice low. “You’re about two minutes away from getting robbed. So unless you want that to happen, I suggest you move along.”

The man blinked, his confusion evident. “Excuse me?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Never mind. Just stay out of my way.”

But the man stepped forward, his voice pleading. “Wait. I need help. A place to stay. A way to restore my honor.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “Did you just dress up begging as a noble cause?”

The man flushed. Gabriel sighed, pulling a few bronze coins from his pocket and tossing them into the man’s hands.

“That’s it?” the man asked, his disbelief clear.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Gabriel said with mock sincerity. “Next time, I’ll bring you a chest of gold.”

He turned to leave, waving dismissively as the man called out a quiet, “Thank you.”

When Gabriel finally returned to the cart, Sorin was leaning against it, his wavy hair catching the sunlight as he flipped through his ever-present notebook. Jordan stood nearby, arranging the sacks of grain they’d bought with his usual quiet efficiency.

“You took your time,” Sorin remarked without looking up. “Run into someone interesting?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Some noble idiot looking for a handout. Nothing worth mentioning.”

Sorin glanced up, his smirk widening. “Knowing you, I bet it was worth a laugh.”

Jordan raised an eyebrow. “Trouble?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Just another headache.”

Sorin chuckled. “Well, I hope you didn’t scare him off too badly. You have a knack for that.”

Gabriel didn’t reply, instead throwing the sack of grain onto the cart with a grunt. But as he worked, his mind lingered on the young man’s face. Something about his desperation, his awkward sincerity, stuck with him.

From the corner of his eye, Sorin watched Gabriel carefully. He leaned over to Jordan, lowering his voice. “Think he’ll ever admit he cares?”

Jordan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “No.”

Sorin laughed. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

The streets of Kaelholm bustled on, indifferent to their conversations. And as the group prepared to leave the chaotic market behind, Gabriel couldn’t help but glance back toward the crowd, where the young noble had disappeared.

Whoever he was, Gabriel hoped he wouldn’t regret tossing him those coins.