The forest was burning.

  Not with fire--but with motion.

  The Shadow Stalker circled around me, red eyes glaring me down through the dark as its limbs scraped the ground. My grip tightened around my hammer, arms shaking, breath coming too fast.

  If I was going to fight it, I sure as heck wasn’t doing it alone.

  “Rok!” I shouted. “Now–!”

  No response.

  I risked a glance to my side.

  Rok was there.

  Standing upright, uninjured but watching.

  His club was missing, and he stood there unfazed.

  “Rok,” I said again, panic creeping into my voice. “Help me.”

  The creature lunged.

  I stumbled back, barely blocking as claws screeched against the hammer. The impact rattled my bones as I nearly fell.

  “Rok!” I screamed.

  He met my eyes.

  For a moment, hope flared up as I thought he would help me.

  Instead, he stepped back.

  “No,” I whispered. “Don’t–”

  The Shadow Stalker struck again. Pain exploded through my sides as I was sent backward, my hammer skidding from my grasp, landing next to Rok.

  I looked up just in time as I saw Rok turning around.

  “Rok!” my voice cracked. “Don't leave me!”

  He didn't run.

  He just walked, calm and steady. As if I were already dead.

  “N-n-no…Rok!”

  The Shadow Stalker loomed over me.

  Its weight crushed the air from my lungs as it leaned closer, claws rising—

  —

  —

  —I jolted upwards with a sharp gasp.

  My chest burned as if I'd been sprinting, sweat clinging to my back, fingers tightening around nothing.

  “No–no, no, no–!” I snapped, looking around wildly. “That's not how that happened. That's not–!”

  I stopped and scanned the room. Stone walls. Cracked ceilings. Warm lantern lights.

  The nursery.

  I let out a shaky breath, then another breath, pressing a hand to my face.

  “Just a nightmare…stupid,” I muttered. “Absolutely stupid.”

  I grabbed a pillow beside me and hurled it across the room.

  It smacked harmlessly against the wall and flopped down to the floor.

  “Of course you wouldn't just walk away,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes. “That's not even—do you know how dumb that would be? Leaving me there? Really?”

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed, still fuming, heart pounding hard, as if the nightmare had personally offended me--honestly, it might've.

  I groaned before feeling a presence.

  I froze.

  Then slowly, I turned my head sideways.

  Rok sat a few steps away on a stool, calmly sipping from a bowl of soup. One arm was bandaged. His posture relaxed. Completely unbothered.

  He stared at me weirdly and silently, mid-sip.

  “…Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.

  Rok tilted his head slightly. “You yelled.”

  I groaned and flopped backwards onto the bed, dragging a hand down my face.

  “I had a nightmare,” I said. “A really stupid one.”

  Rok took another sip. “You threw a pillow.”

  “It deserved it.”

  He considered for a moment. “…Did I do something in this nightmare?”

  I peeked at him through my fingers. “…You left me, ran off.”

  Rok blinked. “Oh…”

  I sat up on the bed, looking at him intently. “…thank you though…truly.”

  We both stared at each other silently for a moment, then cringed.

  I think Rok might’ve had the same thought.

  Rok cleared his throat to break the silence. Then held out the bowl slightly. “Soup?”

  I stared at it for a second…then sighed. “…Fine.”

  The first sip was heavenly, the salt and savory flavor hitting all at once.

  Warmth spread through my chest almost immediately, settling deeper than I expected.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t meant to.

  “…Okay,” I muttered. “That actually felt good.”

  Rok gave a small grunt of approval, leaning back slightly on the stool. His movements were careful and slow. One of his arms was wrapped in fresh bandages, clean and tight.

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  “That’s because you were nearly dead,” a calm voice said.

  I jumped.

  Pain immediately shot through my sides as I flinched and hissed under my breath. “—Ow!”

  I turned around to see a woman standing near the doorway, robes hanging loosely from her shoulders. Her dark hair was tied back neatly, eyes sharp and observant, as if judging the room before either of us could speak.

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  I swallowed and straightened as best I could. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she said. “It was my fault I didn’t knock.” She then looked at me, walking closer. “You were unconscious for a while.”

  She stopped beside the bed, glancing down at me. “I’m Mira, the nurse around here.”

  She lifted the edge of my blanket calmly, inspecting the bandages along my ribs. Her fingers cool and firm, as if practiced in a way that made it clear she’d done this many times before.

  “Just a few torn muscles," she said. “Bruised ribs. Thank whatever gods you believe in, kid.”

  She turned to Rok next, “you,” she added, “are walking stubbornness wrapped in muscle.”

  Rok nodded slowly, as if agreeing. But his eyes clearly had no idea what she was saying.

  Mira sighed softly. “Both of you are lucky. A few more hits and we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

  Her eyes flicked back to me. “No training. No fighting. And no ‘testing’ anything for two days. Am I clear?” she said firmly.

  I opened my mouth.

  “You’ve been asleep for a day, do you want me to personally make that permanent?”

  I looked at her with my mouth open.

  Then I closed it.

  Satisfied, she stepped back. “I’ll check back on you guys again later.”

  After she left I couldn’t help but to slump back on the bed, groaning.

  But before I said something, I heard a small ribbit.

  I shot up. That sound was unmistakable.

  “…No way.”

  The door creaked open just enough for a small green shape to hop inside.

  “MR. ROCKY!”

  Mr. Rocky stood proudly in the doorway, wearing a tiny guild vest that looked like it had been stitched.

  He hopped once. Then once again until reaching the edge of my bed.

  I picked him up carefully and set him on the bed.

  Rok stared at him for a long moment.

  “ He looks fantastic, ” I said solemnly. “Also I thought he was in your pocket?”

  “Nah, Sylvia recommended I leave it with her to not cause unnecessary distractions.”

  I nodded. But before I could speak, footsteps started to approach.

  Footsteps that sounded firm and purposeful.

  The door opened wider as Sylvia barged in.

  Her pink hair was tied back tightly, her usual sharp expression already formed.

  Then she glared at us.

  For a moment, it felt like she sucked all the air out of the room.

  Then her expression softened.

  “…You idiots,” she muttered, exhaling hard.

  She walked across the room and smacked the side of the bed—not hard, but enough to make her point.

  “You come in, I gave you an easy job, you disappear and the next thing I know you're fighting some dangerous monster, collapsing at the entrance and now you're here eating soup like this is normal!?”

  I winced. “In my defense—“

  She glared and raised a finger. “Don’t.”

  Then she leaned back, pressing her hands into her hips, eyes scanning both of us again. Slower this time.

  “…You did good,” she said quietly.

  The room grew heavier suddenly, as a group of old men entered behind her.

  Their presence alone pressed down on the room. It didn’t take long to figure out how important they were.

  One of them stepped forward. “For too long a Shadow Stalker has been harassing our operations, disrupting our missions. Many tried to slay it. Most failed.” Then they looked at us. “Until now, by witness account and guild verification… The Shadow Stalker has been confirmed slain.”

  The words settled in slowly.

  “We thank and owe our gratitude to you.”

  Then another person placed a thick pouch on the table beside my bed.

  It hit with a solid clink.

  “This is your reward,” he said. “Hazard pay included.”

  Sylvia crossed her arms, a faint, proud smirk tugged her lips. “Try not to spend it all in one place.”

  I looked at the pouch.

  Then at Rok.

  Then at Mr. Rocky, who ribbited proudly.

  For the first time since the forest, I felt something close to excitement.

  The pouch was heavier than it looked like.

  I loosened the string and tilted it just enough to peer inside.

  Gold. Lots of gold.

  I blinked once.

  Then I clapped my hands, licked my lips, and rubbed my hands together.

  Ignorant of my surroundings, the elders excused themselves as Rok and Sylvia looked at me weirdly.

  Sylvia turned to Rok. “Has he always been this weird—“ she stopped mid-sentence as Rok just vanished.

  She turned to look at me and saw Rok mimicking my exact movements right beside me. She couldn’t help but look at us weirdly and was a bit hesitant about this choice. Chuckling nervously, “…heh…I guess I’ll leave you to it?” She left without a response.

  “…Is this good?” Rok said, continuing to mimic me.

  I looked at him “Yes,” I said. “Very good.”

  Not long after we stepped out of the nursery all dressed up like we didn’t almost die a day earlier. I put a smug look on my face as we entered the market wing.

  Weapons. Armor. Trinkets. Anything you name it, it’s all in here.

  “Alright, Rok, first we need to buy you a replacement weapon.”

  Rok nodded as his eyes lingered on one thing and one thing only.

  Clubs.

  We stopped at the first stall.

  The vendor, a broad man with stained hands, perked up when he saw Rok. “Looking for something heavy, big guy?”

  Rok nodded once.

  The man grinned and pulled out a thick, iron-capped club, the head reinforced with bands of steel. “Durable. Balanced. Built to crack bones.”

  Rok took it.

  The moment his fingers closed around the handle, the metal groaned.

  Then the vendor's smile twitched.

  Rok frowned slightly and adjusted his grip.

  Crack.

  A fracture split along the weapon.

  We all stared awkwardly at the broken remains.

  “…Ah,” the vendor said quickly, reaching out. “Let’s—maybe not that one.”

  He grabbed the club and looked at it intently.

  Then he started to chuckle nervously as he looked at us. “I-uhh…I’m sure you’d have luck at the next stall.” He quickly said, shooing us off.

  We moved on.

  The next stall offered a stone maul, massive and brutal. Rok lifted, testing its weight.

  While he was intently looking at it and smiling. The head suddenly slipped off, hitting the ground and shattering.

  Silence followed.

  The vendor stared. I stared. Rok stared. We all stared at the broken remains.

  “…I didn’t swing it,” Rok muttered.

  I dragged him away to the next stall before the vendor could speak.

  We stepped away from the stalls, the noise of the market washing over us again.

  I exhaled slowly. “So…that’s a no.”

  Rok looked at me, a bit down. “… I think so.”

  My heart sank when I saw him like that. Until a genius idea hit me.

  “Ay Rok?” I said as he looked at me. “This gold, it can be used…anywhere?” I said gesturing outside.

  Rok looked at me like I said the philosophical, hardest question he heard in his whole life.

  I frowned. Then sighed. “Can this gold be used in outside markets too?”

  Rok then lit up. “…Ohhhh. Yes, I think.”

  “Good. “ I said, walking off. “Then follow me.” I said walking confidently.

  “Where?” Rok said following me.

  I kept the smile on my face as I ignored him. Continuing to walk off.

  But as we left, I couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching us.

  We left the guild, entered the forest the day after we encountered the Shadow Stalker.

  As we continued to walk through the forest, I couldn’t handle the silence as it started to creep me out a bit.

  “Rok, I never asked. But how old are you anyway?”

  “19.”

  I stopped. “Huh? HUH?! You're 19?!” I said flabbergasted. “I thought you were in your twenties!”

  Rok shook his head. “No…I’m pretty sure I’m 19.”

  I continued to stare at him, mouth open.

  Then I closed it. “I’m 17.”

  Rok nodded. “Okay.”

  I nodded, awkwardly. “Okay.”

  Then we continued towards the very town that had rejected me before.

  The outside market was louder.

  Shouting vendors. Sizzling oil. Clashing scents of spice, metal, and smoke. People pressed shoulder to shoulder, laughing, arguing, living—ahhh, paradise.

  Rok slowed his pace beside me.

  “This place feels different,” he said.

  “Because it is. Everything feels alive.” I replied.

  He nodded at that.

  For a moment, neither of us spoke. The weight of the reward pouch rested against my side, heavier now that we’d failed to spend it properly.

  We passed a stall where a blacksmith worked openly, hammering glowing metal while the customers watched. Rok slowed down again, eyes narrowing with evaluation.

  “This one,” he said.

  The smith looked up as we approached, eyeing Rok’s build, his hands. “What’s up, big fella? You break things?”

  Rok considered. “…Sometimes.”

  The man snorted. “Good. Because I don’t sell decorations.”

  What he brought out next wasn't elegant.

  A reinforced club—thick core, layered spikes, built for endurance.

  Rok tested the weights. Swung once and then twice.

  The club didn’t even hum in protest.

  The smith nodded, satisfied. “Good, because if that breaks, I’ll personally build you a new one.” He said confidently.

  Rok looked at me, I nodded once.

  “We’ll take it,” I said.

  Gold exchanged hands. Clean and simple.

  “Is that all?” I said.

  Rok nodded, smiling at me.

  “Good,” I said, turning to face the stalls. “Because the real fun begins.” I said, licking my lips and rubbing my hands together.

  Rok looked at me blankly for a moment, then started to mimic me.

  The smith looked in horror wondering who he just sold a weapon to.

  The food stalls came and went. Rok stopped at every one. Skewers vanished. Bowls emptied. Supply diminished.

  Meanwhile I started to buy everything in my sights. A replica of the crown? A useless ancient map? Yes please.

  “Rok,” I said slowly, holding three wrapped items under my arm, as I continued to toss gold everywhere. “You're not even chewing.”

  “I am,” he replied, swallowing. “Just efficiently.”

  I sighed—then bought a ridiculous cloak shaped like a bird.

  “Ahhh—almost dying for this was sooo worth it.”

  Rok nodded, chewing contentedly, “this is good, being rich feels…good.”

  I laughed, patting my pouch.

  The laughter faded as I patted the pouch again.

  Empty…

  My stomach dropped. I looked at all the gold I’d spent. All the things I didn’t need. All the food in Rok’s hand.

  I gulped, “ay Rok…we should slow down,” I muttered to him.

  Rok nodded, mouth full.

  By the time the sun dipped lower, my legs finally gave out.

  I dropped onto the edge of a stone bench near the stalls. My bags thudded to the ground beside me, heavier than I thought I’d be.

  Rok slowed too, rolling his shoulders.

  “…Rest?” he said. A rare tiredness in his voice.

  I yawned. “Yes please.”

  I scooted over to make space, Rok took one step toward the bench—

  “—FOOD CONTEST! LAST CALL—EAT OR ADMIT DEFEAT!”

  Rok froze as his head snapped toward the sound. By the time I blinked, Rok was already gone.

  “Wait—!” I called out, already knowing it was pointless.

  I watched him barrel into the crowd like a man answering destiny itself.

  “…Unbelievable,” I muttered.

  I leaned back instead, staring at the sky as the noise around me started to fade.

  My hands drifted to my side. Not to my ribs but to the book.

  I hesitated a little before opening it.

  The pages flipped on their own, stopping with a soft thud. Only one verse sat on the page.

  “A man of many compassions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

  I stayed there, reading it. Replaying the fight with Shadow Stalker, then glancing over at Rok, stuffing his face like nothing had happened.

  I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him—and for that, I was grateful. “Thank you. “I whispered.

  I closed the book slowly and let it rest against my chest, the weight of it pressing deeper than the gold.

  Nearby, something rustled.

  I glanced down just in time to see Mr. Rocky poked his head out of my pack.

  He blinked once.

  Then twice.

  His eyes widened.

  A pile of snacks, wrapped, skewered, sugared. All sitting beside me.

  I smiled, “I didn’t forget about you, buddy.” I said, pushing the snacks toward him.

  Mr. Rocky ribbited softly.

  Then dove in.

  I was staring at him enjoying himself as a sudden roar of cheers erupted from the food stalls.

  Rok’s voice rose above it all, victorious, loud and unmistakable.

  Just as I was about to get up the crowd's attention shifted.

  “The Sunforged party is here!” One of the bystanders exclaimed.

  A different type of attention. Footsteps approached, calmly and measured.

  I looked up.

  A party of four young men approaching as whispers and gasps rippled through the crowd.

  I didn’t understand why.

  Their armor was polished, but uneven. One set was worn. Others were simply expensive.

  At the center, one figure walked slightly ahead of others. A blonde young man with a symbol on his crest. But he wasn’t smiling, waving, or talking. Just…enduring it.

  As he was walking, he looked up at the distance. Our eyes met. Only for a moment.

  But I sensed it. At that moment, I felt it. Frustration. Not aimed at me or the crowd. But something deeper. Something restrained.

  Our eyes continued to lock. And before I could process it, people surged forward, voices overlapping as the space filled.

  The party disappeared into the mass, swallowed by the movement and noise as they headed toward the guild hall.

  Rok leaned closer behind me. “…Who were those guys?”

  I nearly jumped, but stood still, staring where they’d been. “No idea.” I said honestly. “Let’s go back, it’s getting dark.”

  As I put Mr. Rocky back into my pocket, I looked back once more. I still sensed the frustration. Maybe I might be the only one to do so.

  I shook it off as we walked. But the feeling still lingered on.