The sun was dipping toward the horizon when Yoshiya and Omina finally saw the sprawling city of **Reflynne**. From the distance, its silver canals glimmered in the last gold of daylight, winding like ribbons between stone bridges and tall buildings roofed in deep clay red. Lanterns flickered to life, each reflection dancing in the water, so that the entire city seemed to shimmer like a jewel waiting to be claimed.
They were tired. Their steps dragged, weighed down not only by the satchels strapped to their belts but also by the sacks of stone and ore. The pouch tied to Yoshiya's hip seemed heavier than anything else—stuffed with the fragments and blue gems carved from the giant stone beetle's shell. Every step reminded him of their battle earlier in the day, and his arms still ached from holding the monster in place while Omina swung the pickaxe.
Reflynne, however, was alive. Music echoed faintly from some corner of the city, laughter carried across the stone streets, and the smell of grilled fish and fresh bread tempted them from every passing vendor. Omina's eyes lit up despite her exhaustion, while Yoshiya silently scanned their surroundings, noting every detail. His gaze landed on a broad, stone-and-wood building near the heart of the city—bright banners hung over its arched entrance, and groups of people came and went with sacks of ore strapped to their backs.
"That's it," Yoshiya muttered.
Omina followed his line of sight. "The guild outpost? How did you even spot that so fast? Have you been here before?"
Yoshiya shook his head. "Obvious. Look at the flow of people—all carrying stones, all headed in that direction. Plus, it's one of the largest buildings here. Easy to recognize."
Omina laughed softly. "Sometimes I forget you actually pay attention to boring things."
---
### The Outpost
The closer they came, the louder it grew. Unlike Orleaf's smaller guild hall, this outpost thrummed with constant activity. Inside, adventurers crowded every corner—hauling sacks of minerals, bargaining with merchants, or celebrating loudly with mugs of ale. The scent of sweat, ale, parchment, and molten metal mixed strangely together, making Yoshiya wrinkle his nose.
Behind the counter stood a tall woman with neatly combed hair, thin spectacles balanced on her nose. Her red-and-gold uniform bore the same crest Lia had worn, though her demeanor was colder. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she tapped ink across parchment.
She barely glanced up when they approached. "How can I help you?"
Yoshiya set their stamped quest paper on the desk and pushed the small sack of ore forward. "Delivery from Orleaf. Quest complete."
The woman opened the bag, sifted through the contents with gloved hands, then pulled a weight from beneath the counter. She measured quickly, her expression betraying neither approval nor interest. "Five kilograms. Mixed stone, minor colors, no rarities." Her quill scratched across the paper. "Standard rate applies."
She counted coins and slid them across the desk—**four silver and twenty-five copper**.
Yoshiya pocketed the money without complaint. Omina, however, narrowed her eyes at the receptionist's flat tone. "That's it? You look like you want to bite someone's head off. Are you mad at us?"
The woman's eyes flicked up, cool and sharp. "I glare at everyone."
Omina folded her arms, ready with another retort, but Yoshiya caught her elbow gently and tugged her away. "Don't," he murmured. "She's just bitter."
"Or broke," Omina muttered. "Maybe both."
They didn't notice the way the woman's lips twitched, as if holding back the urge to respond.
---
### Books and Blossoms
As they made their way toward the door, a particular stall caught Yoshiya's attention. Stacked books leaned precariously on one another, some so old their spines cracked. But one volume stood out: **a slim, green-covered book with the title *Heal 101*** written in faded gold letters.
He paused, stepping closer. "Excuse me, old sir," he asked the bookseller, a bent man with wisps of white hair. "How much for this one?"
The old merchant peered over his spectacles. "That beginner's manual? One silver coin."
Yoshiya weighed the coin in his hand. It was steep for a single book, but he thought of their last battles—the scratches, the bruises, the near-fatal moments when his healing ran dry. He glanced at Omina, who had already noticed his hesitation.
"If you want it, buy it," she said simply, smirking. "Better to spend now than regret later."
With a short nod, Yoshiya handed the silver over. The book was his.
Meanwhile, another merchant—a gray-haired man with sharp eyes—had been eyeing the flowers poking out of Omina's clay pot.
"Young miss," the man said, voice respectful. "Those blossoms are rare and fresh. Would you part with them?"
Omina raised a brow. "How much are you offering?"
"How many do you have?"
She had ten. But she held out only five in her hand. "Five blossoms."
The man's lips twitched. "Ten silver."
Omina crossed her arms. "Fifteen."
The merchant frowned. "Twelve is fair."
"Thirteen," Omina pressed, "and I want that clay pot you're selling." She pointed at one of his wares.
The old man sighed, rubbed his temples, and finally nodded. "Thirteen, then."
Deal struck, Omina grinned triumphantly, slipping the silver into her pouch. When they rejoined, she jingled the coins loudly. "Guess who just earned three times what you did?"
Yoshiya shot her a flat look. "We were supposed to mine. Not… garden."
"You can't eat stones," Omina said sweetly.
"No, but stones make weapons and armor. Useful things."
"And flowers keep me alive. You'll thank me later."
Yoshiya shook his head, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
---
### The Inn
They left the outpost with heavier purses and lighter steps. After a short walk, they found an inn: a broad, three-story wooden house lit by lanterns, with laughter spilling from its open windows. The smell of stew and roasted fish drifted out.
Inside, the woman at the counter quoted them **two silver and fifty copper per night**, meals included. Fair enough. They paid and were shown upstairs to a small but tidy room—two beds, a wash basin, and a small lantern flickering gently on the table.
Dinner arrived moments later: bread, steaming stew, and mugs of warm cider. The two devoured their food hungrily, Omina humming contentedly while Yoshiya ate in silence, already distracted by the book.
When they finished, Omina busied herself with her herbs. She set the new pot near the window, carefully arranging flowers and leaves as if it were a shrine. Yoshiya sat cross-legged on his bed, *Heal 101* open on his lap.
---
### Training by Lanternlight
The book's instructions were simple but precise:
1. **Learn the spell.** Understand the healing process.
2. **Practice.** Start with small cuts.
3. **Discover limits.** Use until drained.
4. **Focus.** Direct mana only to the wound.
5. **Adjust.** Refine efficiency with each cast.
Yoshiya thought of Mako's words: *Don't just use your mana. Understand its flow.*
He pulled a small knife from his pack, nicked a shallow line across his arm. Blood welled faintly. Omina's head whipped around. "Are you insane?!"
"It's for practice." He pressed his palm over the wound and began to focus.
The first try scattered mana across his arm. Warm light glowed, but most of it bled away uselessly. The cut only partly closed. Frustration burned in his chest.
He tried again—this time narrowing his mind, forcing the energy into a single thread. The glow thinned, sharper, striking only the wound. The cut sealed faster.
Omina watched silently, arms folded, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward.
For the next half hour, Yoshiya repeated the process. Each time, he drew deeper on his reserves, shaping his mana with more control. Small scratches sealed cleanly, but his vision blurred, sweat rolling down his forehead. His breathing grew ragged.
"You're pale," Omina said at last. "Enough."
"One more," Yoshiya muttered, jaw tight. He pressed his hand to a final cut, channeled the magic with everything he had left, and felt the wound vanish under precise heat. The effort hollowed him. His chest felt cold, his limbs heavy.
He collapsed backward onto the bed, *Heal 101* slipping from his fingers.
Omina turned back to her plants, though her eyes softened. "Hopeless," she whispered. "But at least you're hopeless with results."
Yoshiya was already asleep, mana completely drained. The lantern flickered, painting soft shadows across the room, while outside, Reflynne's canals glimmered under the rising moon.
The city of water was alive. Their new journey was only beginning.