The boy chewed on the dried meat, his sharp teeth working against its tough texture. It wasn’t the best thing he’d ever eaten—too salty, too dry—but after weeks in this godforsaken forest, it might as well have been a feast. He swallowed another bite, savoring the way it filled the gnawing emptiness in his stomach, even if just for a moment.

  The man caught his gaze and offered a smile—a bit forced, but smooth and practiced, the kind of smile that might have fooled him once. But the boy had seen smiles like that before, the kind that tried to hide pain. He could see it now, in the faint tightness around Gareth’s eyes, in the way his hand lingered near his ribs even as he tried to appear at ease. Slumped against the tree, his face pale and drawn, he looked like someone who should’ve been resting, not trying to impress anyone. And yet, he’d tried. He’d puffed himself up, spoken loudly, like he thought the world still cared about names and titles. It reminded the boy of the kind old man from the streets—the one who gave away his bread even when he had none for himself, who smiled and spoke of heaven as if it were just around the corner. Foolish, yes, but not in a bad way. It was the kind of foolishness that made you want to believe, even if you knew better.

  The boy tore another bite from the meat, his gaze lingering on Gareth for a moment longer. He swallowed, the words forming in his mind before he could stop them. “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice quiet but carrying a thread of curiosity. “What happened to you?”

  Gareth’s hand shifted slightly where it rested near his ribs, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his tunic. He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping to the fire. The flames reflected in his eyes, flickering like something distant and unreachable. When he finally spoke, his tone was light, almost casual. “Ah, well, that’s a long story,” he said, offering a faint smile. “But it’s not a very interesting one, I promise you.”

  The boy tilted his head, watching him closely. Gareth sighed softly, leaning back against the tree. “Let’s just say I’ve had a bit of bad luck,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

  The boy frowned slightly, not out of distrust but because he could sense the weight behind Gareth’s words. He knew the man was deflecting, skirting around the truth with practiced ease. It reminded him of the old man from the streets—the way he’d smile and wave off questions about his own struggles, always turning the conversation back to something lighter, something easier. The boy had learned not to push back then, and he knew better than to push now. Sometimes, it was better for both of them to just let it go.

  Then Gareth tilted his head slightly, his smile softening. “What about you?” he asked, his tone light but curious. “What brings you out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

  The boy froze, his fingers tightening slightly around the piece of meat in his hand. How could he even begin to explain? That he’d been dragged into a place that shouldn’t exist, forced to climb a Tower filled with things that defied reason? That he’d been given a "Guide" who spoke in riddles and left him to fend for himself? It all sounded like a bad joke, the kind of story that would earn him nothing but disbelief.

  The silence stretched between them, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the distant rustle of the forest. Finally, the boy looked away, his gaze dropping to the ground. He didn’t say anything.

  Gareth didn’t press him. He simply waited, his expression calm and patient. The boy shifted slightly, his fingers brushing against the spear resting across his lap. After a moment, he broke the silence again. “What’s your plan?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “What are you going to do?”

  Gareth blinked, caught off guard by the question. He straightened slightly, his hand falling away from his ribs. “My plan?” he repeated, as if testing the words. He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to figure that out, won’t I?”

  The boy’s gaze flicked back to him, his expression unreadable. Gareth smiled faintly, his tone turning thoughtful. “For now, I think I’ll focus on getting out of this forest in one piece,” he said. “After that… well, we’ll see.”

  “I can help you,” the boy said, the words coming out more earnest than he intended.

  Gareth blinked, surprised by the offer. Then he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s kind of you, lad,” he said lightly “But I’ll manage. I always do.” He shifted slightly, wincing as he adjusted his position against the tree. “Besides, I owe you one for keeping watch earlier. Let me return the favor. I’ll guard while you sleep.”

  The boy froze for a moment, then snapped back, his tone sharp and mocking. “You? Guard me? What are you going to do, scare off a wolf by coughing at it? Or maybe you’ll just fall over and crush it.”

  Gareth raised his hands in mock surrender, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Fair point,” he admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. “But I still owe you something. I don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”

  The boy rolled his eyes, tearing another bite from the meat. “I don’t work for free,” he said, his tone still sharp. “But I don’t take payment from someone who can’t give it, either. Just sleep. You’ll pay me back when you’re strong enough.”

  For a moment, Gareth said nothing, his gaze steady on the boy. Then he nodded, his smile softening. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, lad,” he said quietly

  The boy didn’t respond. He simply shifted his position, leaning back slightly as he kept his spear close. The fire crackled softly between them, the warmth of the flames brushing against their faces. Gareth let out a slow breath, leaning his head back against the tree. For the first time in what felt like days, he allowed his eyes to close.

  Gareth woke to the faint smell of something cooking. For a moment, he stayed still, letting the warmth of the fire and the soft crackle of its flames ground him. The ache in his ribs was still there, dull but persistent, but it was manageable. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

  The boy was crouched near the fire, carefully tending to a pair of fish skewered on sticks. Thin slices of leaves were pressed against the fish, and a handful of small, dark berries sat nearby, their juices staining the boy’s fingers as he worked. Gareth blinked, surprised by the sight. The boy moved with quiet precision, his sharp eyes focused entirely on the task at hand.

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  “Morning,” Gareth said, his voice rough from sleep. He shifted slightly, wincing as he adjusted his position against the tree. “You’ve been busy.”

  The boy glanced at him briefly, then returned his attention to the fish. “You were snoring,” he said flatly. “Figured I’d do something useful.”

  Gareth chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair enough,” he said. His gaze lingered on the fish, the faint aroma of cooked meat making his stomach growl. “How’d you catch them?” he asked, more to start a conversation than anything else.

  The boy didn’t look up. “Mana,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I used it to sharpen my senses, to find them in the water. Then I boosted my speed to spear them before they could get away.”

  Gareth blinked, caught off guard by the answer. “Mana?” he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “You used mana… to catch fish?”

  The boy tilted his head, as if not understanding why he ask it back, before shrugging, turning his attention back to the fish.

  Gareth stared at him for a moment, then let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. His lips curled into an amused smile as he leaned back against the tree, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t say anything, but his thoughts churned.

  Mana. Of course. Every mana user he’d ever met had wielded it with purpose, with ambition. Mages and arcanists bending the world to their will, reshaping reality with a flick of their fingers. Nobles like himself, using it to enhance their strength, their speed, their presence on the battlefield. And then there were the truly terrifying ones—the individuals who stood outside the two great paths. Most mana users either served a kingdom, earning nobility through their loyalty, or joined the mage and arcanist schools, dedicating their lives to study and mastery. But a rare few chose neither. These were the ones strong enough to command respect without bending the knee, powerful enough that neither crown nor council dared challenge them.

  And then there were the beasts. Any creature capable of wielding mana was a force to be reckoned with. A mana-using beast wasn’t just strong—it was a one-man army, a walking calamity that could level entire battalions with ease.

  And here was this boy, in the middle of nowhere, using mana to catch fish.

  The absurdity of it almost made him laugh again. He pressed a hand to his ribs, stifling the sound before it could escape. The boy glanced at him, his expression unreadable.

  “What?” the boy asked, his tone defensive.

  Gareth waved a hand dismissively, still smiling. “Nothing,” he said lightly, though the amused glint in his eyes remained. He rested his head back against the tree, letting out a quiet chuckle under his breath.

  Perhaps he can accept the boy offer. But the thought of dragging him deeper into this mess made Gareth’s stomach twist. The war wasn’t just a distant threat—it was here, in the forest, in the blood on his armor and the arrows that had nearly killed him. The men who had chased him into these woods wouldn’t stop. They’d hunt him down, and if they saw the boy with him, they wouldn’t hesitate to strike.

  But Gareth couldn’t afford to stay lost in this forest much longer. His people needed him. His camp was out there, somewhere beyond the endless trees, and every moment he spent wandering was another moment his men were left vulnerable. The boy clearly knew the forest—he moved through it with the ease of someone who had lived in its shadows for a long time. If anyone could guide Gareth back to his camp quickly, it was him.

  Gareth’s jaw tightened as he considered the implications. He couldn’t let that happen. The boy wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t someone who should ever have to face the horrors Gareth had seen. No, if it came to it, Gareth would make sure the boy got away. He was confident in that much.

  He glanced at the boy again, his expression softening. The kid was quick, sharp, and clever. If Gareth could hold off whatever was left of the men chasing him, the boy would have a chance to escape. Gareth’s lips twitched into a faint smile. He’d been hailed as a genius once, after all. If it came to a fight, he’d make sure it was one they wouldn’t walk away from.

  But the thought still weighed heavily on him. Was it right to even ask the boy to stay with him, knowing the risks? Gareth sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared into the fire. The decision wasn’t easy, but one thing was clear: if the boy stayed, Gareth would do whatever it took to protect him.

  The boy stood suddenly, breaking Gareth’s train of thought. He walked over to Gareth and held out a skewer of fish. Gareth blinked, momentarily surprised, before taking it with a nod of thanks.

  The fish was simple, but the aroma of the leaves and berries made his stomach growl. He took a bite, the flavors sharp and earthy, and let out a soft hum of approval. “Not bad,” he said, glancing at the boy.

  “Lad,” he began, his tone calm but firm, “I need to ask something of you.”

  The boy looked up, his expression unreadable.

  “I need a guide,” Gareth continued. “Someone who knows this forest. My people are out there, waiting for me. They need me, and I can’t afford to wander aimlessly any longer.” He paused, meeting the boy’s gaze. “In return, I’ll teach you. About mana, about the world beyond this forest. You’ve got potential, and I don’t leave debts unpaid.”

  The boy tilted his head slightly, then gave a small, nonchalant nod. “Fine”

  Gareth frowned, his jaw tightening. “Fine?” he repeated, his tone sharpening. “Do you even understand what I’m asking? This isn’t a game, lad. There are men out there—armed, trained, and ruthless. They won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in their way. This is war.”

  The boy’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening slightly on the skewer in his hand. “I know what war is,” he said, his voice low but steady. “And I know how to run. I’ve been running my whole life. If it comes to it, I can get away.”

  Gareth’s frown deepened. “And what if you can’t?” he pressed. “What if they catch you? Do you think you can fight them off? Kill them?”

  The boy’s gaze hardened, his voice rising slightly. “Maybe I can,” he shot back. “Maybe I’ll have to. I’m not afraid of them.”

  Gareth’s expression darkened, his frustration boiling over. “You think killing is something to take lightly?” he snapped, his voice sharp. “You think war is just about running and fighting? It’s blood and death and pain, lad. It’s not something you should ever want to be a part of.”

  The boy glared at him, his jaw set stubbornly. “I didn’t say I wanted it,” he retorted. “But I’m not going to sit here and let you scare me into thinking I can’t handle myself.”

  Gareth let out a slow breath, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. He set the skewer down beside him and straightened, his gaze steady on the boy. “Fine,” he said, his voice cold and measured. “If you’re so confident, prove it.”

  The boy blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

  “A duel,” Gareth said firmly. “You and me. No killing, no bloodshed—just a test. You think you can handle yourself? Show me.”

  The boy hesitated, his eyes flicking to Gareth’s ribs, where the man’s injuries were still evident. “You’re hurt,” he said flatly.

  “I can fight you with a leg and an arm, blind” Gareth replied, his tone sharp. “And if you’re going to guide me, I need to know you can hold your own. So, what’s it going to be?”

  The boy’s grip tightened on his skewer, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he stood, his movements deliberate and calm. “Fine,” he said again, his voice steady. “But don’t blame me if you regret this.”

  Gareth’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. “We’ll see, lad. We’ll see.”