The final night before their return to Oryn-Vel was eerily still. The sky stretched wide above them, painted deep indigoand speckled with stars that shimmered like scattered shards of crystal. A cool breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the distant hum of insects and the occasional hoot of an owl.
Near the fire, Selka and Merrick were already fast asleep. Selka had curled up close to Merrick's side, her breathing soft and even. Merrick, for all his usual bravado, was sprawled out on his back, mouth slightly open, snoring lightly.
But Char wasn't sleeping.
A short distance away from camp, he stood alone, practicing.
The flaming blue book of Author's Note hovered before him, its pages fluttering as if caught in an invisible breeze. Even now, it felt surreal—a power given to him, named so perfectly that it couldn't be a coincidence.
The author had a skill named 'Author's Note'. Nothing less than on the nose…
I was the one who wrote this world.And now I'm inside it.
He flexed his fingers, watching as the book responded. He reached for the knowledge inside, feeling the essence of the copied skills he had absorbed. Each one burned like a story waiting to be told.
Suddenly, a quiet voice broke through the night.
"You're doing it again," Mira said.
Char flinched, startled. He hadn't heard her approach. He turned to see her standing nearby, arms crossed, watching him with that familiar mix of curiosity and concern.
He sighed, letting the glowing book fade from existence. "I couldn't sleep."
Mira raised an eyebrow. "No kidding."
She stepped closer, the firelight catching on the golden flecks in her eyes. Her usual confidence was there, but beneath it, something softer. More genuine.
"You've been pushing yourself hard," she noted.
Char shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have to. This skill… it's strong, but I still don't know what it really means."
Mira studied him, her gaze flickering to where the book had been. "So, what exactly can it do again?"
"Copy the skills of other people, I believe. I think there's three slots, but two are already filled up from when I awakened the ability. I don't know how I can copy skills myself, or if i can override the ones already implanted into it or if I just have that one empty slot left or what."
Mira titled her head and pursed her lips in thought. "It's a weird one, alright."
A gentle silence settled between them. The fire crackled softly in the distance, the wind whispering through the trees.
Then, Mira shifted her weight, her voice a little softer. "You've changed a lot, you know."
Char looked back at her. "Have I?"
Mira nodded. "Since we first met… you're more confident. More decisive. You don't hesitate as much anymore." She smiled, but there was something knowing in her eyes. "And you're less of an awkward idiot."
Char let out a quiet chuckle. "Hey, I was always this charming."
Mira rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't fade.
A beat of silence. Then, her expression grew more serious.
"…I'm glad we met," she admitted.
Char's breath caught slightly. The way she said it—soft, sincere—hit deeper than he expected.
He hesitated before answering. "Me too."
Another pause. Then, Mira spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Char… do you ever think about us?"
Char blinked. "Us?"
Mira gave him a pointed look.
His face heated. "Oh. That 'us.'"
Mira smirked, but there was nervousness beneath it. "Yeah. That one."
Char exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I do."
Mira waited.
Char shifted, looking down at his hands. "I know it's weird. We've only known each other for a few days. But…" He exhaled slowly, gathering his thoughts. "Even so, I like you, Mira. I don't know where this is going, and I don't want to rush into anything, but… I know what I feel."
Mira stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he worried he'd said the wrong thing.
Then—she took a step forward.
"You're overthinking," she murmured.
Before he could ask what she meant, Mira leaned in—and kissed him.
It wasn't rushed, or desperate. It was gentle, deliberate—like a quiet promise in the stillness of the night.
Char's heart pounded. For a second, his mind went completely blank. Then, instinct took over. Unlike the first time, when he had just let it happen in a frozen state, this time he kissed her back.
When they finally pulled away, Mira smirked. "See? Not that complicated."
Char let out a breathless laugh. "You're impossible."
Mira simply grinned.
The two stood there for a long moment, watching each other, before Mira gently nudged him toward the camp.
"Come on," she said. "We have a long day tomorrow."
Char followed, his mind a whirlwind.
As they returned to the warmth of the campfire, he glanced up at the star-filled sky.
Even if he didn't know what the future held… this was real.
And that was enough
*
The tenth morning arrived with golden sunlight spilling over the rolling hills, casting long shadows ahead of them as they followed the dirt road toward Oryn-Vel. At long last, they had returned.
Char could already see the towering city walls in the distance, a familiar sight that made his chest tighten with something between relief and nostalgia.
Feels like a lifetime ago, he thought.
When he first been going through the southern gates, he had met Benjamin. Now, he was walking through that same gate—not as a clueless and lost nuisance, but as someone who had lived, fought, and survived.
The guards at the entrance barely spared them a glance, too busy dealing with the morning crowds. The moment they stepped past the gates, Oryn-Vel opened before them like a living beast, pulsing with energy.
The streets were packed. Merchants shouted over one another, selling everything from glowing spellstones to freshly baked bread. Children weaved between adults, their laughter mixing with the clatter of hooves and the chatter of passing travelers. The air was thick with the scent of spiced meats, burning coal, and damp stone.
Mira and Merrick froze in place.
"By the gods," Mira muttered, eyes wide as she took in the sheer scale of the city. "This place is huge."
"People actually live here?" Merrick added, staring at the endless rows of towering buildings that stretched far beyond the walls. "I thought Valkar camps were big, but this is—this is—"
"—Overwhelming?" Char guessed.
Merrick nodded rapidly.
"You'll get used to it." Char smirked, nudging him forward. "Eventually."
As they moved deeper into the city, Selka stuck close, her hood pulled low over her face.
Char didn't need to tell her why.
Oryn-Vel—and the entire human kingdom—still bore scars from the War. The hatred for Valkar was deep-rooted, and though Selka was still a child, her silver hair and golden eyes would be enough to mark her as an outsider. Enough to make her a target.
She didn't complain, but she held onto Merrick's sleeve as they walked.
Merrick gave her hand a squeeze. "Don't worry," he murmured. "No one's gonna mess with you while I'm here."
Selka nodded but didn't say anything.
Char cast a glance over his shoulder, watching as people passed them without a second glance.
For now, they were just another group of travelers.
*
Char exhaled as he stepped into the heart of Oryn-Vel's bustling streets, his pulse quickening with every step.
He pressed a small pouch of coins into Merrick's palm.
"Find an inn," he told them. "Something safe and out of the way. Get food, rest—whatever you need."
Mira frowned. "You're not coming?"
"I need to see them first," Char admitted, gripping the strap of his pack. "It's been too long."
Merrick tilted his head. "Who?"
"The others."
At that, Mira's expression softened. She gave a small nod, stepping forward to adjust the scarf wrapped around Selka's head. The young Valkar girl blinked up at her, confused but silent.
"We'll be okay," Mira assured him. "Go."
Char hesitated. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and ran.
The city blurred around him. The streets twisted and turned, but his feet knew the way. He dodged carts, weaved through crowds, leapt over puddles left from the morning's street washing. Every breath pulled him closer.
And then—
The safehouse came into view.
The weathered old building, leaning slightly to one side, just as he had left it.
For a moment, he just stood there.
The last time he was here, he had left as someone uncertain, hesitant, following the gang's lead. Now, he stood at the threshold stronger, surer—changed.
He stepped forward.
Then burst through the door.
The smell of burnt tea and old wood hit him first. Then—
"WHAT THE FU—"
A chair clattered to the ground as Tess leapt to her feet, a dagger half-drawn before she even processed who had just barged in.
Her wild, dark curls bounced as she froze in place, staring at him.
Char barely had time to react before he was nearly tackled by her.
"YOU'RE ALIVE!" The woman crushed him in a bear hug, her slender but strong arms wrapping around Char like a vice. "I knew you weren't dead!"
"I— can't—breathe—" Char wheezed.
A sharp smack landed on her head by Ishmael, forcing her to let go. The tall man then looked at Char with a huge grin. Char never once seen the stoic man so ecstatic over anything before. He supposed he had a hidden soft side, then.
Marin stood there, arms crossed, her ever-sharp gaze raking over Char from head to toe. Assessing. Measuring.
"You look like shit," she stated. But there was something in her voice—something relieved.
Callen sat slouched at the table, looking between them all with an easy grin. "You should've seen Tess," he mused. "She was this close to throwing a funeral."
"I WAS NOT," Tess snapped, though the slight redness in her face suggested otherwise.
Char just laughed.
And suddenly, everything hit him at once.
The past two weeks of danger, blood, exhaustion—of running, fighting, surviving—all melted in that moment.
He was home.
And they were all still here.
"…I missed you guys."
The words came out softer than he intended.
There was a brief silence. Then, Tess punched him in the arm.
"You're damn right you did," she muttered.
And just like that, it was like he had never left