My side began to ache in a constant, dull way, like a bruise that refused to forget.
I tried to hide it.
Ash noticed anyway.
He stopped after a while, not in a dramatic "break" way, but in a natural "we're not rushing" way. He handed me a small water skin.
"Drink," he said.
I drank and tried not to gulp like an animal.
Ash watched my face for signs of pain. "Bandage tight?"
"It's fine," I said quickly.
He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Fine means 'it hurts but I don't want to admit it.'"
My cheeks warmed. "It's okay."
Ash didn't argue. He just adjusted our pace again—slower, steadier.
Todd and Milo were ahead, still within sight, bickering quietly about whether Luneth would have gathered herbs with proper form.
Milo said, "He would gather them heroically."
Todd said, "He would pay someone."
Milo gasped. "That's slander."
Ash murmured beside me, "Pacing matters more than pride."
I nodded, breathing steady.
In.
Out.
The breathing drills came back naturally, not forced.
Each step, I listened.
Birds.
Leaves.
The faint crunch of Todd's boots.
Milo's whisper-loud commentary.
Ash's footsteps—quiet, controlled.
I began to notice small things.
A branch snapped far off and the birds shifted.
Ash's head tilted immediately, listening.
Then he relaxed when the sound moved away.
He didn't explain. He didn't need to. His body taught me more than words.
We gathered Bluecap mushrooms next—small, soft, and easy to bruise.
Ash showed me how to lift them by the base gently, how to lay them in the sack without crushing.
"Condition matters," he said. "If you hand the guild a mushy mess, they pay you like you brought trash."
Milo whispered, "We must honor the mushroom."
Todd hissed, "Stop."
Milo whispered, "I am motivating."
Todd whispered, "You are annoying."
I almost laughed, then my side stung sharply and I had to clamp my mouth shut.
Ash glanced at me instantly. "Don't laugh too hard," he said, casual. "You'll reopen it."
I nodded, biting back the smile.
It was strange.
I'd been in a noble hall yesterday, surrounded by carpets and crests and words that felt like chains.
Here, in a forest, I was being scolded for laughing because my wound might tear.
It felt… normal.
It felt real.
We collected Clearwater Bulbs near a small wet patch where the ground sank slightly and moss thickened. Ash warned us to watch footing, to avoid slipping.
Todd nearly slipped anyway because he was trying to demonstrate a "heroic stance."
Ash caught his collar like Todd was a kitten.
Todd went stiff with embarrassment.
Milo tried not to laugh and failed, then slapped his own mouth shut mid-laugh like it was a crime.
Ash let Todd go and said, "If you want to train, do it on flat ground. This is work."
Todd muttered, "Yes."
***
Eventually Ash led us off the main path.
Not far—just enough that the forest felt quieter. Like even the wind spoke softer here.
A small clearing opened, and in the center of it stood something that didn't belong.
An old anti miasma device, worn by age, moss clinging to its edges. A few small boundary stones surrounded it like a respectful fence.
The air around it felt… faintly cleaner.
Not dramatic. Not magical fireworks.
Just… subtly different, like the forest held its breath here.
Todd and Milo fell silent instantly.
Even Milo.
Ash walked up to the anti miasma device and brushed his fingers over the plaque embedded in the stone below it.
"This," he said, voice quieter than usual, "is one of the old ones."
I stepped closer, eyes tracing the worn carving.
The letters were ornate, older style, but still readable if I focused.
Ash nodded toward it. "Every city has something like this. Just outside the wall. A small shrine to remember the first anti-miasma device."
My heart tightened.
"The first?" I whispered.
Ash nodded. "Azuris's first. Nearly eight hundred years old."
Eight hundred.
The number didn't fit in my brain.
Ash continued, tone calm, like he was telling me the weather, but there was something respectful underneath.
"Before devices like this," he said, "miasma pushed Avalonia back. People couldn't hold roads. Villages got swallowed. Territory shrank little by little."
Todd's eyes sharpened, listening like this mattered more than hero rankings.
Milo's face softened, starry-eyed in a different way—less "cool," more… awe.
"And then Altes made the first devices," Ash said. "They could push the miasma back enough to keep routes open. Enough to hold ground. Enough to reclaim what was lost."
He tapped the stone lightly. "So people built shrines at the inactive anti miasma devices. Not because shrines do anything—"
Milo whispered, "They do. They honor—"
Ash didn't stop him. He just finished, "—but because remembering matters."
I looked at the plaque again.
The inscription was short, solemn:
"Here stands the First Breath—Altes's gift against the choking dark.By craft, the realm endured."
My throat tightened without warning.
Not because it was poetic.
Because it was true.
Because it meant this kingdom had once been desperate enough to thank a machine like it was a god.
Milo's voice came out unusually small. "So… this is heroism too."
Ash nodded. "This is what heroes leave behind."
Todd swallowed and muttered, "Altes…"
I stared at the shrine, thinking of the devices Ash replaced for ten copper a mission.
Thinking of the container full of dense miasma that attracted monsters.
Eight hundred years, and people were still surviving on the same tools.
My mind flashed to the Great Abyss again—too deep, too dark—
I forced the thought away.
This wasn't the time.
Ash stepped around the shrine, then crouched and started pulling weeds from the base.
Todd blinked. "Why are you—"
Ash didn't answer.
He kept clearing, methodical, like he'd done it a hundred times.
Milo's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Ash… why do you look like you've done this before?"
Ash tugged a vine free and tossed it aside. "Because I have."
Todd's eyes sharpened. "How many times?"
Ash didn't look up. "Enough."
The way he said it made my curiosity spike.
This wasn't a random detour.
This was a place Ash returned to.
He cleared another patch of overgrowth, then paused.
"There it is," he murmured.
He brushed away dirt and moss to reveal something metallic embedded in the ground.
A handle.
A real metal handle, cold-looking, set into the earth like it belonged there.
My heart jumped.
Milo rushed forward and immediately crouched beside it, eyes gleaming. "WHAT IS THAT."
Todd crouched too, but with more caution. "A trap?"
Ash's mouth twitched. "No."
He wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled.
Something resisted for a second, then gave with a heavy thunk.
A square door rose out of the ground—wood reinforced with metal brackets, built sturdy enough to survive centuries. Dust shook loose. The hinges creaked like an old throat clearing.
Cool air spilled up from the darkness below.
It smelled like stone and iron.
And something faintly… clean. Like old air that had been kept away from miasma.
Milo leaned over the opening, peering down into pure black.
Todd leaned too, squinting like he could force his eyes to see.
"What is that?" Milo whispered, voice trembling between fear and excitement.
"I never knew this was here," Todd said, sounding almost offended that the world had hidden something from him.
Ash looked at both of them, then at me.
"Every shrine has one," he said. "An underground passage."
Milo's head snapped up. "EVERY shrine?!"
Ash nodded. "Yep."
Todd frowned. "And nobody talks about it?"
Ash shrugged. "People do it once when they're kids. Or when they're bored. It's not restricted."
Milo's eyes widened. "So it's safe."
Ash nodded. "Safe."
Todd narrowed his eyes. "Where does it lead?"
Ash's expression was too calm.
Too familiar.
"It leads somewhere," he said.
Milo vibrated with excitement. "THAT'S AN ADVENTURE."
Todd looked torn between suspicion and the desperate need not to look scared.
I stood at the edge, peering down, and my stomach fluttered.
A staircase descended into the darkness.
Old stone steps, worn smooth in the center where countless feet must have gone before.
The air from below brushed my face, cool and steady, like the underground was breathing.
Ash gestured toward the opening with two fingers forward—follow—then tapped his shoulder—regroup.
We gathered close again, instinctively.
He looked at us, calm as always.
"Alright," he said, and his voice took on that easy authority that made it feel like we were just walking into another room. "Single file."
Todd's mouth opened. "Ash—"
Ash cut him off gently, not harsh. "You asked for an adventure, didn't you?"
Milo whispered urgently, "I asked for an adventure!"
Todd clicked his tongue, then muttered, "Fine."
I shifted my weight carefully, sling tugging. My side pulsed with ache.
I could do this.
It was safe, Ash said.
And Ash didn't lie about things that mattered.
Still… my hand tightened on the strap of the sack I carried. The quest list paper in my pocket felt heavier than it should've—like proof that I was actually doing this.
Actually stepping into the world outside the wall.
Ash stepped onto the first stair.
Then he paused just long enough to glance back at us.
"Don't touch what you can't name," he reminded, casual.
Milo nodded furiously. Todd nodded stiffly.
I swallowed and placed my foot on the first step.
The darkness below waited like a secret with its mouth open.
And then we started down.