Chapter 17 - Goodbyes

The sun begins its slow descent, streaking the sky in burnt orange and deep indigo. Shadows stretch long over the village, creeping into its quiet corners where unspoken thoughts simmer. Near the outskirts, beneath a canopy of gnarled trees, De-Reece finds solitude.

Solar lies beside him, her sleek, black lion-like form still unfamiliar in its new size. The violet qi lines coursing through her fur pulse faintly, mirroring the quiet stir of thoughts running through her bonded companion.

Footsteps approach—measured, deliberate.

"You're planning to leave soon, aren't you?"

De-Reece doesn't look up. He senses Kalia's presence before she speaks.

She halts a few feet away, arms crossed, sharp eyes scanning him beneath the dimming sky. "You're different from the others," she continues. "I doubt you'll waste three months idling here."

Only then does De-Reece turn, meeting her gaze. Silence stretches between them, though he waits.

"I want to travel with you."

Her words are direct, but something lingers beneath them—curiosity, interest, perhaps even a challenge.

De-Reece exhales slowly. "The trial is in three months," he says. "I'll return in one. I have my own matters to attend to."

Kalia's expression remains composed, yet something flickers in her gaze. "You'll come back?"

He nods once. "If you're serious, meet me along the main route south when the time comes."

She studies him for a moment longer, then smirks. "Alright, De. We'll see if you keep your word."

Without another word, she turns and disappears into the night.

The forge greets De-Reece with the familiar scent of scorched iron and the rhythmic clang of hammer against steel. Heat radiates from the embers, licking at his skin as he steps inside.

Behind the workbench, the forge master barely lifts his gaze from the metal he shapes. "I knew you'd come."

De-Reece moves forward, bowing slightly in respect. "I wanted to thank you. For everything."

The old blacksmith grunts, setting aside his hammer. "You learned quickly. Worked hard. Didn't ask for favors. I respect that."

De-Reece nods, accepting the unspoken praise.

Reaching behind the bench, the forge master pulls out a wrapped bundle and tosses it toward him. "Take it."

Unfolding the cloth, De-Reece reveals a bracer of polished black steel, inscribed with faint, delicate runes. A fine piece of craftsmanship—tempered to withstand force yet light enough not to slow him down.

"You never used a weapon properly," the forge master states, folding his arms. "But your fists? They're hammers. That bracer will keep them from breaking."

Turning it over in his hands, De-Reece examines the weight and balance. The metal is cool against his skin, solid yet seamlessly fitted to his forearm. "You made this?"

A scoff follows. "You made it yourself without knowing. I just finished it for you."

Fastening the bracer into place, De-Reece flexes his wrist, feeling the perfect fit. "Thank you."

The forge master only grunts, already returning to his work. "Don't waste what you've learned here."

With one last glance at the roaring embers, De-Reece steps back into the village's quiet night.

By the time he reaches his room, the village has settled into an uneasy stillness. The tension from the trials has faded, leaving only whispers of speculation.

A knock at the door breaks the silence.

De-Reece does not need to ask who it is.

Elder Faen stands in the doorway, the glow of a candle casting deep shadows over his weathered face. His expression remains unreadable, though his presence demands attention.

"Walk with me," the elder says simply.

Without hesitation, De-Reece follows.

The night air carries the scent of burning herbs as they move through the village. Faen leads him to a small pavilion on the square's edge, where torches burn low, their flames flickering like restless spirits.

A heavy silence stretches between them before the elder finally speaks.

"You're leaving soon."

De-Reece keeps his voice measured. "I have my own path to walk."

Faen exhales slowly, gaze shifting toward the stars. "You remind me of someone I once knew," he says, voice distant. "A man who walked into this village one day, nameless and quiet, much like you. He had strength beyond what any of us could fathom, yet he stayed in the shadows."

De-Reece remains still. He has expected Faen's curiosity—but this is something more.

"You speak of a hidden master," he says carefully.

Faen's gaze flicks to him, sharp and searching. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I am only an old man chasing ghosts."

The air grows heavier. The false trail of a 'hidden master' was planted to throw off suspicion, but Faen is perceptive. If pushed too hard, the lie may unravel.

De-Reece chooses his next words deliberately. "I met someone once. A traveler. He taught me a few things, but he never stayed in one place for long."

A long pause follows before a chuckle escapes the elder's lips.

"Then he is much like the other one," Faen muses. "Men like that never stay still. But tell me, De—if such a master exists, why did he choose you?"

De-Reece meets his gaze, unwavering. "Maybe he saw something worth guiding."

Another silence lingers as Faen studies him, weighing the words before nodding.

"The selection in three months will be brutal," the elder finally says. "If you intend to enter, be prepared. Many villages send their best, but only a few truly matter to the sects."

De-Reece does not need the warning. His choice is already made.

"And you?" he asks. "What do you seek from all this?"

Faen's lips curve into a mirthless smile. "All men seek something."

There is no need to press further.

As the elder turns to leave, he pauses. "If you find your 'hidden master' again," he says, "tell him that there are those still waiting for him to return."

Then, he disappears into the night, leaving De-Reece standing in the dim torchlight, the weight of his deception pressing against him like an iron chain.

The village falls behind him, swallowed by the trees as De-Reece strides toward the outskirts.

Solar pads beside him, her presence steady, her sleek form blending into the darkness. Her new size is a constant reminder of how much has changed—of how much still will.

His thoughts, however, remain restless.

The brothers. The rings each of them took. The dragon pendant still hanging against his chest, cool and solid against his skin. Would they be at the selection? Would they have survived this long?

His fist clenches, the bracer tightening against his arm.

He has done enough to deflect suspicions—for now. But the path ahead demands more.

Should he return to the forest, refining his techniques in isolation, pushing his body beyond its limits? Or should he once again venture into the Heavenly Demon's Cave, where dangers wait in the shadows, ready to break or temper him?

Solar lets out a low rumble, sensing his hesitation.

De-Reece exhales.

The month ahead will be his true test.

And wherever he goes—he will not leave weak.