The days before departure passed faster than Aerin expected.
Five days felt short when measured in sleep and meals—but long when measured in thought.
He spent them deliberately.
At dawn, he trained alone.
Not harder than before.Just cleaner.
Every movement had intent. Every spell was cast only when necessary. Fire to condition endurance. Wood to reinforce balance and recovery. He pushed until exhaustion threatened, then stopped one step before collapse.
That restraint mattered.
On the third day, he returned to the archive.
Not for ruins.
For people.
He researched past field assessments—failures more than successes. Notes written in cramped handwriting, instructors' marginal comments, casualty reports.
Patterns emerged.
Teams didn't fail because of monsters.
They failed because of misjudgment.
Overconfidence. Poor communication. Ignoring signs.
Aerin closed the last book slowly.
Survival isn't about strength,it's about choosing when not to use it.
That thought felt… familiar.
Too familiar.
That afternoon, he encountered Lyris again.
By coincidence—or design.
She stood in the weapons hall, overseeing a controlled spar between two first-years. Her posture was relaxed, but her attention never drifted.
When the match ended, she noticed Aerin watching.
"You observe more than you act," she said.
"So do you," he replied.
She didn't deny it.
"Field assessments don't forgive hesitation," she continued. "But they punish recklessness more."
Aerin nodded. "Then we're aligned."
She studied him for a long moment.
"You don't fight like a student," she said quietly.
"And you don't lead like one," Aerin replied.
For the first time, she smiled—just slightly.
That night, Aerin packed.
Nothing excessive.
Rations. Tools. Spare clothes. Basic alchemical supplies. A single blade.
No talismans.
No emergency artifacts.
If he relied on things too early, he'd never learn his limits.
As he finished, the sealed presence stirred again.
This time, it wasn't pressure.
It was approval.
A silent acknowledgment—like a veteran watching a recruit prepare properly for war.
Aerin exhaled slowly.
"I'm not ready yet," he murmured.
The presence did not disagree.
Before sleep, he stood at the window.
The academy lights glowed softly against the night, orderly and safe. Beyond the walls, the land stretched into darkness—unmapped, indifferent, ancient.
Tomorrow, he would step beyond routine.
Beyond theory.
Beyond protection.
And though he did not yet know it—
The first thread of his long journey was already tightening around his fate.