— K —

After his rather pleasant conversation with Liora, Nujah raised his hand and released a yellow, - T- shaped beam of light into the sky. Within moments, a large bird-like creature descended from the clouds, ridden by a cloaked stranger.

"Where to?" the rider asked.

Stretching out on the creature's back, Nujah calmly replied,

— K — the Lightward Agency.

A silver coin formed in his hand, which he flipped toward the rider without looking.

After a long, quiet flight through fading clouds, the rider leaned back.

"We've arrived, sir. I can't get you any closer."

Nujah yawned softly, stood up, gave a nod of thanks, then — snap — teleported with a flick of his fingers.

The rider flinched but said nothing. Some questions were not meant to be asked.

---

Moments later, Nujah silently slipped into the director's office at Lightward. He waited.

Nearly an hour passed before the door opened.

A well-dressed woman burst in, shouting:

"How did you get in here?! Guards!"

"This isn't necessary," Nujah said calmly.

But she only yelled louder.

Moments later, Lightward soldiers stormed into the room, surrounding him.

Nujah didn't move. He turned to the window, then slowly looked over his shoulder.

> He lowered his hood.

Everyone froze. Then — one by one — they dropped to their knees.

Apologies echoed through the room.

Nujah gave a light smile.

"You didn't make a mistake," he said.

"Your boss, Lenny, did. She chose noise over reason. Isn't that right, Lenny?"

The woman flinched.

"Yes, I… I acted without thinking. Please forgive me."

With a firm voice, Nujah ordered:

"Leave us. I'm only here to speak with your superior."

The soldiers immediately obeyed and left, leaving only Lenny, who remained trembling on the floor.

Nujah reclined in a chair. Silence hung in the air.

Then:

"So? How long are you planning to stay down there? Forever?"

"I don't deserve the chair after what I did," Lenny whispered.

"You did what you had to do," Nujah said, genuinely.

"You protected yourself. I'm not angry. Now sit — we have work to do."

Lenny exhaled shakily and sat down.

"What did you need, sir?" she asked, slowly regaining composure.

Eyes still closed, Nujah replied:

"Thirel Mosven. Do you know him? Archery expert, I believe."

"Yes, sir. But he hasn't shown up for a few days. I know some people who can find him. I assume… that's why you're here."

"Correct," Nujah nodded.

"Find him. Bring him in. If he asks why, tell him:

'Nujah wishes to see you.'

No one else must hear of this. Keep it discreet."

Lenny nodded.

"Understood. Give me five minutes — he'll be here within twenty."

"Go ahead," Nujah replied.

"There's no rush. But don't waste time."

She stood and left.

---

Left alone, Nujah opened his eyes. With a flick of his fingers, he changed the room slightly — illusion magic, hidden wards, tools prepared. By the time Lenny returned with two guards and Thirel Mosven, everything was set.

The three bowed. Lenny sat again.

Thirel, voice uncertain, stepped forward.

"You wished to see me… Boss?"

Nujah smiled.

"Ah, just in time."

Nujah turned to Thirel.

"I need to speak with you privately."

With a snap of his fingers, Lenny and the two guards were instantly pushed outside the door. It slammed shut and locked itself.

Startled by the sudden force, Thirel stepped back in fear.

"If I did something wrong, please… forgive me, sir!" he stammered.

Nujah raised a calming hand.

"It's nothing like that. But… if you fail the test I'm about to give you, things will get bad."

He summoned an arrow made of pure light and handed it to Thirel. With another snap, the room stretched—widening and expanding until the far wall was nearly 10,000 kilometers away.

"That should be enough distance," Nujah said, chuckling.

"This was where beginners used to train in my time."

But then he snapped again.

"Of course, that'd be too easy."

He continued:

"I've adjusted the winds. Every 2,500 kilometers, the wind speed increases: Level 1, 10, 11, 20, 31, 40, 41… up to 50. No objects, no assistance—just that bottle at the end of the room.

You have three chances.

Only one mistake is allowed.

If you fail twice… well, the surprise comes then."

Nujah sat down comfortably, summoned a drink from Lenny's cabinet with a flick of his hand, and sipped it slowly.

Thirel stood still, overwhelmed by confusion and stress.

"Begin," Nujah said, not even looking at him.

A few seconds passed.

Then Nujah's tone shifted—calm warmth replaced by cold authority:

"If you don't start shooting soon, there'll be a real problem."

Thirel swallowed hard.

He looked at the impossibly far, barely visible bottle… and then at the glowing arrow in his hand. He didn't even know how to begin—but he raised the bow anyway.

He prayed silently to Naraka, pulled back the arrow, and fired with everything he had.

6457 kilometers in, the arrow slammed into the ceiling.

Before he could speak, Nujah calmly said:

"Shot two, Thirel."

Thirel quickly apologized and tried again.

This time, fear overtook him—

The arrow didn't even make it past 1000 kilometers.

Nujah rose from his seat.

Immediately, Thirel collapsed to the floor in panic.

"I'm sorry! Please, forgive me!"

But Nujah walked over slowly, knelt down, and gently said:

> "Just lift your head, Thirel Mosven.

It's alright.

Try again."

He helped him up.

"This time," Nujah continued, "Trust yourself. Then… trust our Mother.

Throw the arrow again.

Not for me—

But for yourself… and for our Mother."

Nujah stood tall again.

"I believe in you, Thirel Mosven.

My trust may be temporary…

But hers is eternal.

Even if you won't do it for me—

Do it for her."

Then Nujah sat back down, his expression now soft, watching with hope.

Thirel took a deep breath.

He cleared his thoughts, pushed away all doubt, and gripped the arrow tightly.

He whispered to himself:

> "For our Mother…

For Shiora…

And for Nujah, who gave me light."

He pulled the bowstring.

He released.

The arrow soared — fast, sharp, glowing.

2500… 5000… 7500…

Each gust of wind struck like a hammer.

But the arrow refused to fall.

9500… 9800…

Then —

It slowed.

Just 209 meters from the target, the arrow trembled… and fell.

9891 kilometers.

It landed gently, right under the glowing bottle.

The bottle shook.

But it didn't fall.

Thirel stared at it in silence, then screamed in frustration.

He hurled the bow to the ground and tried to shatter it — but it didn't break.

And then… silence.

Nujah tilted his head, smiling.

Not a victorious smile—

but one filled with quiet pride.

He slowly stood and walked over.

> "Hitting the target was never the point."

> "This wasn't a test of skill —

It was a test of intention."

"Getting angry after failure is normal.

It shows you cared.

But harming yourself because of failure…

That's worse."

As he turned to leave, Nujah looked back and motioned Thirel closer.

"Oh… almost forgot."

He leaned in, voice low but sincere:

> "All of us are flawed, Thirel.

Each of us has something we're bad at.

But what matters is that you work on it—

With the same seriousness you showed here."

"Understand?"

Thirel nodded.

Nujah gave one final, knowing smile.

With a snap of his fingers, he vanished.

His final words echoed behind him:

> "No one can know your true worth…

Except you, Thirel.

Don't let foolish words hurt you more than they should."