Chapter 7 — Leaving So the World Doesn't Burn With You
Morning came with answers Elias didn't want—and choices he couldn't avoid.
Verdan was awake before the sun.
That alone told him everything.
The village moved in low, controlled motion. No one rushed. No one lingered. Doors opened and closed with care. Guards stood at intersections they had never guarded before. Mana lamps, meant only for night, still glowed faintly, their hum uneven.
Fear had settled in.
Not panic.
Preparation.
Elias stood on the porch of his home, pack at his feet, and watched his village try to look normal.
It failed.
His father stepped out beside him, tightening the straps on his own coat. He didn't speak at first. He didn't need to. The air between them was heavy with what both already knew.
"You're not leaving for adventure," his father said finally.
"No," Elias replied. "I'm leaving because if I stay, this place becomes a target."
His father nodded once.
That was the truth. Clean and sharp.
Elias found his mother in the kitchen.
The fire was low, barely burning. Morning light filtered through the small window, casting pale gold across the wooden table. A pot of water sat untouched on the hearth.
She stood with her back to him, hands resting on the table, shoulders tense.
She knew.
He hadn't said a word yet, but she knew.
"You're leaving," she said quietly.
Elias stopped in the doorway.
"Yes," he answered.
She nodded once, slowly, as if confirming something she had already accepted. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she turned.
Her eyes were calm. Not surprised. Not angry.
Just tired.
"They explained why," she said. "Captain Rourke did."
Elias swallowed. "I didn't want to go without—"
She crossed the room and placed a hand on his chest.
"Don't explain," she said softly. "Mothers understand things before words."
Her hand was warm. Steady.
"You came back changed," she continued. "Not just wounded. Different."
Elias looked away.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen," he said.
She lifted his chin gently, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"I know," she said. "That's why I'm not afraid of you."
The words hit harder than any blade.
"You're afraid of the world instead," Elias said.
She smiled faintly.
"Yes," she admitted. "Because it noticed you."
Her thumb brushed his cheek, lingering there.
"When you collapsed on that road," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "I thought I'd lost you."
Elias's chest tightened.
"And now you're leaving," she continued. "But this time, you're choosing it."
He nodded.
"If I stay," he said, "they'll keep coming. Not just monsters. People."
Her jaw tightened.
"Then go," she said.
Elias looked at her sharply.
"Go," she repeated. "Learn. Grow strong. Become someone this world has to respect."
She stepped back, giving him space, but her eyes never left his.
"Just promise me one thing."
"Anything," Elias said immediately.
"Don't forget who you were here," she said. "Not who you become out there."
He nodded, throat tight.
"I won't," he said.
She pulled him into a hug.
Firm. Fierce. Real.
For a second, Elias forgot the world, the System, the threats beyond the borders. He was just a son holding onto the only safe place he'd ever known.
When she let go, she reached into her apron and pressed something into his hand.
A small pouch. Inside, he could feel dried herbs and a faint warmth.
"For wounds," she said. "And for when you're tired."
Elias closed his fingers around it.
"Thank you," he said.
She smiled, eyes shining.
"Come back alive," she said. "That's all I ask."
He turned toward the door.
"Elias," she called.
He paused.
"You don't need to say goodbye," she said gently. "This isn't the end."
He nodded once.
And then he left.
Footsteps approached from the path.
Captain Rourke.
He looked worse than yesterday. Lines etched deeper into his face. His armor was scuffed, stained in places where blood had soaked in and dried.
"We need to talk," Rourke said.
They walked together toward the edge of the village, away from listening ears. The marker stones stood in the distance, cracked and silent now, guarded by twice as many men as before.
Rourke stopped and faced Elias fully.
"I should've explained this earlier," he said. "That's on me."
Elias waited.
"When we left the village yesterday," Rourke continued, "it wasn't because we wanted to travel. It was protocol."
"Protocol?" Elias asked.
Rourke nodded.
"Border breach protocol," he said. "Markers fail, we investigate immediately. We confirm the source. We determine if it's natural decay or interference."
"And the prisoner," Elias said.
"Yes," Rourke replied. "We suspected tampering the moment he was found near the markers. If we didn't confirm it quickly, the capital wouldn't move."
Elias absorbed that.
"So you left to gather proof," he said.
"Exactly," Rourke replied. "We needed to see if the breach was isolated or deliberate."
"And you came back," Elias said, "because it wasn't."
Rourke's jaw tightened.
"Because corrupted humans appeared," he said. "Not beasts. Not accidents. People."
Silence stretched between them.
"That changes everything," Rourke continued. "It means someone is actively pushing corruption into populated areas."
Elias thought of the prisoner's smile.
Peace is a delay.
"And now?" Elias asked.
Rourke looked back at the village.
"Now Verdan is compromised," he said quietly. "Not doomed. Not yet. But watched."
Elias felt the weight of those words settle in his chest.
"And me?" he asked.
Rourke met his eyes.
"And you," he said, "are the reason this escalated so fast."
Elias didn't flinch.
"I didn't ask for that."
"I know," Rourke said. "But it doesn't change the result."
Rourke exhaled slowly.
"The prisoner recognized you," he said. "Not as a person. As a variable."
Elias nodded.
"He said that too."
Rourke grimaced. "I don't like agreeing with men like him, but he wasn't wrong about one thing."
"What's that?"
"Unregistered variables draw attention," Rourke said. "From factions we don't want looking too closely at quiet villages."
Elias closed his eyes briefly.
Staying would paint a target on Verdan.
Leaving would move it.
That choice was already made.
Liora found him by the well not long after.
She didn't smile. Didn't pretend.
"You're leaving again," she said.
"Yes."
"This time not just for investigation," she added.
"No," Elias said. "This time because if I stay, they'll come back. Stronger."
She stared at the water, fingers gripping the stone edge.
"They?" she asked.
Elias hesitated.
"People who believe the world is ending," he said. "And want to hurry it along."
Her jaw tightened.
"And you think leaving stops that?"
"I think it buys time," he said. "For Verdan. For you."
She turned toward him sharply.
"And what about you?"
Elias met her gaze.
"I stop being a civilian," he said. "That's the difference."
She searched his face, as if trying to memorize it.
"So this is goodbye," she said.
"No," Elias replied. "This is distance."
He reached into his pack and pulled out the small charm she'd given him the day before.
"I'm keeping this," he said. "So I remember what I'm fighting for."
Her eyes softened, just a little.
"Don't forget us," she said.
"I won't," he promised.
That one wasn't a lie.
The decision became official at the watch post.
Rourke gathered the village elders, Elias, and two messengers from the capital who had arrived before dawn. The prisoner was gone—taken under heavy guard before sunrise.
"Here is the situation," Rourke said plainly. "Verdan will receive temporary reinforcement. Patrols will double. Trade routes will be monitored."
The elders nodded, tense but focused.
"And Elias Verdan?" one elder asked.
Rourke looked at Elias.
"He cannot stay," Rourke said.
A murmur rippled through the room.
"He is not being exiled," Rourke added quickly. "He is being protected—and removed from this equation."
Elias spoke before doubt could grow.
"If I stay," he said, "whatever group the prisoner belongs to will keep testing the village."
Silence followed.
"They won't stop," Elias continued. "Not while I'm here and unaccounted for."
The elders exchanged looks.
Finally, the oldest among them nodded.
"Then you must go," he said. "So that we may stand without being bait."
Elias bowed his head slightly.
That was that.
The journey to the capital began before noon.
This time, it wasn't just guards escorting him.
Guild riders joined them halfway down the trade road—three of them, armored differently, insignias etched clearly into their gear.
One rode ahead, one flanked Elias, one brought up the rear.
This wasn't protection.
It was custody.
Not hostile.
But not optional.
The man riding beside Elias glanced over.
"Name?" he asked.
"Elias Verdan."
The rider nodded. "I'm Dain. Guild Registrar."
That name carried weight.
Elias felt the System stir faintly.
They didn't talk again until the gates came into view.
The capital of Verdan rose ahead of them, layered stone walls reinforced with mana arrays that glowed faintly even in daylight. Towers pierced the sky, connected by bridges and platforms. Airships—small, controlled—floated near the upper levels, guided by wind magic.
This wasn't a village.
This was the world's machinery.
Inside the guild hall, Dain wasted no time.
"You're probably wondering why you can't just go back after registering," Dain said as they walked.
"Yes," Elias replied.
"Because registration changes things," Dain said. "Once your name enters the system, you stop being invisible."
They entered a private chamber. No audience. No ceremony.
Dain turned to face him.
"You leaving the village wasn't abandonment," Dain said. "It was containment."
"Containment of what?" Elias asked.
"Risk," Dain replied. "You."
Elias didn't argue.
"Here's the part no one likes saying out loud," Dain continued. "If you stayed unregistered in Verdan, one of three things would happen."
He raised a finger.
"First. The faction tests the village again. Harder. People die."
Second finger.
"Second. The capital intervenes directly. Verdan becomes a military zone."
Third finger.
"Third. Someone takes you quietly."
Elias's blood ran cold.
"And leaving?" Elias asked.
"Moves the risk," Dain said. "To places built to handle it."
Elias nodded slowly.
"So I leave to protect them," he said.
"And to protect yourself," Dain added. "Because now that you're flagged, staying small is no longer an option."
The crystal device on the desk lit up.
Dain gestured to it.
"This is why you left the village," he said. "This is why you returned. And this—" he tapped the crystal "—is why you leave again."
Elias placed his hand on it.
Warmth spread up his arm.
[REGISTRATION COMPLETE]
[STATUS: PROBATIONARY GUILD AFFILIATE]
A blank guild token slid out.
Dain handed it to him.
"You're unranked," he said. "Unprotected by status. Watched by everyone."
Elias closed his fingers around the token.
"And if I refuse?" he asked.
Dain met his eyes.
"Then the village becomes the safest way to reach you," he said simply.
That settled it.
That night, Elias stood on the capital's outer balcony.
The city spread beneath him like a living map. Roads branching out toward other kingdoms. Towers marking power hubs. Guild halls glowing softly, alive with movement even at night.
He understood it now.
Why they left the village.
Why they returned.
Why he had to leave again.
The world wasn't confused.
It was responding.
The System flickered one last time.
[PATH CONFIRMED]
[NEXT STAGE: INITIATION]
Elias exhaled slowly.
"Fine," he whispered. "If the world wants my name…"
He looked back toward where Verdan lay beyond the horizon.
"…then I'll make sure it remembers it for the right reasons."
Leaving was not running away.
It was choosing where the fight would happen.