Valerie kept walking, each step slow and heavy. Aren watched her go, his eyes sharp and guarded.
"Where do you think you're going?" he called out, his voice cutting through the quiet morning air.
She didn't turn. She just kept moving, her shoulders rising and falling with each breath.
Aren waited, his fingers itching around the hilt of the Smiling Blade. Seconds ticked by in an awkward silence that felt like it stretched forever.
Then he scoffed and muttered under his breath, almost as if talking to himself. "Yeah… you can leave. I don't even need you here," he said, though deep inside, the words left a sting he didn't want to admit.
She didn't go back to the tower. Instead, she slipped past the open ground and headed straight toward the thick line of bushes at the edge of the field. Without looking back, she pushed into the green, vanishing into the shadows between the leaves and branches.
Aren stood still, his jaw tight. He glanced at the Smiling Blade, searching for an answer he didn't want to say out loud.
"What do you think she's doing?" he asked finally, unable to keep the question inside any longer.
The blade hummed lightly, like it was thinking carefully. "Maybe she's going somewhere to clear her head… or maybe she'll come back later. I don't really know," it replied, keeping its real thoughts hidden away.
Aren grunted and lowered his gaze. "She's gone… finally. Now I can concentrate," he said, lifting the blade in one hand.
"Recovering from how cute she is, right?" the Smiling Blade teased, its voice dancing in his mind.
Aren narrowed his eyes at it, fighting a small smile. "Let's get the other 28% done. We don't have time to waste… we need to get to the Muri Khan soon," he said, determination flashing across his face.
He stood straighter, his muscles tense but burning with a new energy. He took a deep breath, raised the Smiling Blade, and started moving again. Each swing, each step, felt sharper than before.
He moved with a smooth, powerful rhythm, the blade almost humming in his hand, guiding him. His aura started to flicker more clearly now, a pale glow running along his arms and shoulders.
Hours passed. Sweat dripped down his face and soaked into his clothes. His muscles screamed at him, but he ignored the pain. Every movement brought him closer to the edge of his limits, but he pushed through.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he felt something shift inside him. The blade glowed brighter, a second compartment on its hilt lighting up in a soft, proud glow.
Aren dropped to his knees, panting, his hair sticking to his forehead. He looked at the blade, a tired but genuine smile breaking across his face.
"We did it… Rank Two," he whispered, almost in disbelief.
The blade glowed faintly, as if smiling back at him.
Aren leaned back against a tree, sliding down to the ground, his whole body shaking from exhaustion. He let the blade rest across his lap, his fingers loosely curled around it.
For a moment, he just sat there, eyes half-closed, listening to the wind whisper through the leaves above.
This blade… his only real companion. The one thing he believed would never betray him.
Just as he was about to drift into a light rest, a scent drifted into the clearing. It was warm, rich, and savory — the smell of cooked food, meat sizzling over a fire, herbs and spices floating in the air.
Aren's eyes flew open, and he sniffed the air again, his stomach instantly growling.
"Who's cooking nearby? Or… is there a camp close to here?" he asked, his head snapping up to scan the edge of the trees.
The blade stayed quiet, as if it was also sniffing along with him.
Aren pushed himself up, trying to steady his legs, curiosity and hunger battling inside him.
He took a careful step forward, eyes narrowed, ears straining to catch any movement or voices.
Whatever it was… he had to find out.
...