"The Art of Getting Lost"

Before their journey begins, Kin pauses. There's one place he needs to visit first.

His knuckles rap against the oak door. A heartbeat later, it swings open. His mother stands there, frozen—just for a second—before she gasps and pulls him into a crushing embrace."Kin... Kin, my dear, you finally came home!" Her voice quivers, torn between joy and disbelief.

The hug lingers, a silent moment of reunion. He closes his eyes, letting the warmth of the moment sink in. Then, as she opens her eyes, they land on Sye. The joy in her eyes softens into curiosity. "Oh, you've brought a friend?" She steps aside, gesturing warmly. "Come in, come in."

The door closes behind them with a soft click, wrapping them in a quiet, long-awaited peace.

A thick silence settles over the dining table. The kind that makes every small movement feel loud.

Kin shifts in his seat, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He sneaks a glance at Sye. She remains still, her eyes half-lowered, unreadable. He wonders, "Is she going to say anything?"

Just as the silence starts pressing in, his mother returns, carrying a large silver tray. The faint clink of porcelain breaks the tension. Steam coils from the tea, mingling with the earthy scent of almonds and pistachios. The polished plates gleam under the light.

Setting the cups down, she finally speaks. "So, your friend?"

Kin straightens, seizing the opportunity. "Ah, she's a member of the Legions Guild, like me."

His mother pauses mid-pour. Her head snaps up. "You've joined a guild?" Her voice wavers between surprise and concern before her gaze flickers to Sye. "I hope he's not too much trouble, miss?"

Sye finally looks up, meeting her gaze directly. "Sye."

His mother smiles, her expression melting into warmth. "Sye... what a beautiful name."

For the briefest moment, a faint pink tints Sye's cheeks. She looks away, caught off guard by the kindness.

In the hallway, away from Sye's ears, Kin reaches into his cloak. The heavy pouch presses against his palm before he gently pushes it into his mother's hands.

"Mum, we don't have much time, but… this is for you."

Her fingers hesitate as she undoes the string. The moment she peeks inside, her breath catches. Gold glints under the dim light, spilling like captured sunlight.

"Kin… this is too much," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I can't—"

"You can," he interrupts softly. "You always wanted that house near the river, right? Buy it. Besides... A raider's life has its perks—so don't worry about me."

Her lips part as if to protest, but then, instead, she exhales a quiet laugh. With a knowing smile, she pulls him into another hug, tighter than before. When she finally lets go, she brushes a strand of hair from his face, her eyes shining with something deep, something unspoken. "I'll have something special for you when you come back, okay?"

Kin exhales softly, nodding.

The door clicks shut behind them. The morning sun bathes the streets in warm, golden light, casting long shadows that stretch lazily across the path. The sky is a brilliant blue, untouched by clouds, the crisp air carrying the faint scent of morning dew. Birds trill in a polyphonic symphony, their voices tessellating through the open air. Sye unfolds the map, barely glancing at it before turning on her heel and walking.

Kin startled, jogging to catch up. "You already know the way?!" His voice carries a note of incredulity. Sye doesn't answer. She keeps moving, her focus unshaken.

Kin lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Okay, then!" He falls into step behind her, following her lead.

Tiren stands bare-chested in the training yard, his skin lacquered with sweat, each breath rolling from his chest in slow, tempered waves. Four opponents encircle him, their wooden spears poised like the fangs of a beast ready to strike.

They lunge in unison.

Tiren vanishes— exploding upward, his leap so abrupt that dust coiled beneath him. Below, the spears slashed through empty space. One attacker, anticipating his movement, thrust upward to meet him mid-air.

Tiren reacted instantly. His heel snapped down, shearing the tip of the spear with a precise, brutal kick. Without hesitation, he followed through—each successive strike demolishing another section of the shaft, reducing it to splintered fragments before his opponent's eyes.

A whisper of danger behind him. He felt the attack before he saw it. A subtle shift of his weight sent him pivoting mid-air, the oncoming spear slicing past his ribs with a hair's breadth to spare. His hand lashed out from behind him, fingers clamping onto the wooden shaft. With a sharp yank, he wrenched it from his opponent's grip.

As he descended, the remaining two fighters angled their spears skyward, forming a lethal barricade. But Tiren adapted in an instant—his knees bent, bending his body into a squat mid-air. In the same motion, he swung his stolen spear beneath him, balancing it atop the sharpened tips of their weapons. For a breath, time seemed to hold with him, the wooden bridge suspending him above danger. The warriors gawked in disbelief.

Then, with a bound, he sprang off the precarious platform, flipping behind his last two challengers. Even as they turned, he was ready for more.

A sharp whistle sliced through the air.

An arrow tore toward him, aimed for his skull. But Tiren moved before impact—his head tilting just enough for the projectile to scream past. His gaze snapped toward its source, a quiet recognition settling in his eyes.

Whoever loosed that arrow would regret they missed.

Mud squelched beneath Kin and Sye's boots as they trudged along the lonely forest path. Birds chirped, leaves rustled, and everything felt eerily peaceful—which, of course, meant trouble was about to start.

Right on cue, shifty snickers slithered through the trees behind them. A ragtag group of bandits emerged, grinning like wolves, twirling rusted knives between their fingers.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" one sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Looks like easy pickings, boys."

They barely got to blink.

In a blur, Sye moved.

A gust of wind. A series of sickening thwacks. And suddenly—

The bandits were decorating the ground like discarded laundry, moaning in pain, faces bruised, swollen, and questioning their life choices.

Sye stood in the middle, casually dusting off her knuckles, looking only mildly inconvenienced.

Kin, still standing in the exact same spot, hadn't even processed what happened yet. His eyes sparkled with admiration. "Wow, she is SO cool."

As Sye walked past the fallen bandits, completely unbothered, Kin followed—happily hopping over one of the groaning goons with a single foot, like a kid skipping a puddle. Then he caught up to her, hands behind his head, whistling like that wasn't the most impressive thing he'd ever seen.

The forest path led them straight to a dead end—a towering cliffside with a sheer drop into a shallow river. Kin and Sye both stared at it. The wind howled. A single loose pebble tumbled off the edge, plummeting below.

Kin slowly pulled out the map. One glance. Then another. Then—

A snicker.

Sye's eyes locked onto him, suspicion all over her face. "What?"

Kin sucked in a breath, trying to keep a straight face. "…We went the wrong way."

Sye's face flared red faster than a matchstick. Her lips pursed in a tight pout as she spun on her heel and stormed off.

Kin clamped a hand over his mouth, his body shaking from the effort of holding back laughter. It was useless. The second she stomped past him, his composure shattered.

"PFFT—BAHAHAHA!"

He doubled over, pointing dramatically in the opposite direction through his wheezing laughter. "Not that way!"

Sye froze mid-step.

Her fists clenched. Her head lowered, hair covering her eyes. Her face? Now a volcanic shade of red. Without a word, she turned and marched in the correct direction, her entire soul radiating humiliated fury. Kin, still cackling uncontrollably, wiped a tear from his eye before jogging after her.

The steady rhythm of footsteps pressed into the lavish carpets of Yown's guild headquarters. Gilded chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their golden glow casting restless shapes along the walls. Outside, the city's distant commotion buzzed in the background, but within these halls, the air felt unnaturally stagnant, as if waiting for something to break.

Then, the Legion Guild Master entered. Unannounced.

Yown, seated behind an obscenely ornamented desk, had been absentmindedly shuffling through stacks of parchment, but at the sight of his visitor, his entire body went rigid.

His hands twitched. Papers disappeared into drawers with hurried, clumsy movements—one nearly slipping from his grip before he forced it inside. The act was casual in intention, but far too frantic in execution.

Still, he forced a smile, though his lips lacked the conviction to sell it.

"W-What brings you here?" His voice carried forced warmth, yet a single bead of sweat trickled down his temple, betraying his true state.

The Master took one deliberate step forward. "I already know what you've been scheming, Yown."

A suffocating pause.

Yown's smile twitched at the edges, threatening to crack. But he recovered quickly, leaning back in his chair, waving a dismissive hand as if shooing away a child's accusation.

"S-Scheming? Now, that's a strong word. I wouldn't—"

"First, the purple orbs." The Master's voice remained unshaken, each word landing like a weight against the floor. "And now, you've gone even further."

Yown's pupils shifted—just barely—to the right.

A fraction of a second. A fatal mistake.

The Master moved.

A sharp, decisive elbow strike drove into the unseen figure lurking behind him. A strangled gasp.

Tom —Yown's so-called ace in the hole—collapsed to his knees, his cover instantly broken. The moment his skill fell apart. His fingers clawed weakly at the ground, his lungs refusing to pull in air. The Master didn't turn to acknowledge him. He simply adjusted his sleeve.

"And I know exactly how you planned to do it."

Yown bolted upright. His chair scraped against the floor with an ugly screech. His breath came shallow now, his eyes darting from the Master to the doorway, then back to the man gasping on the ground.

"How?! How could you know?! I accounted for everything! So much planning—so much work!"

A knock.

Yown flinched so hard his knee hit the desk.

The door eased open, and a the rookie stepped inside. Without a word, he held it open wider, allowing two more officers to march in, their eyes locked onto the defeated schemer.Metal restraints clamped shut with mechanical finality.

Tom, his second plan—Yown's last safety net—were pulled to their feet, their resistance amounting to nothing more than weak protests and unfufilled ideas.

Defeat settled over Yown like a sickness.

Sometime later... The Master stood before a grand window within Yown's office, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze remained fixed on the scene below.

A massive pit lay carved into the guild's courtyard. The crude attempt at a tunnel stretched deep, its edges uneven, riddled with scattered tools and abandoned crates. A desperate, reckless project.

He stared at it for a long moment.

His voice was devoid of amusement. No mockery. No gloating. Just pure, emotionless disappointment."I expected treachery, but trying to dig a hole to the 31st…"

The rookie stationed by the door, finally spoke.

"Some men would rather chase wealth than wisdom."

The Master didn't respond. His hands remained still behind him. His gaze remained immutable, a silent monolith untouched by circumstance.