Over the following days, the pace of their lives settled into a quiet rhythm—one filled with tension, discipline, and a quiet urgency that pressed on them all in different ways.
Bral spent more and more time away from the group, sitting cross-legged beneath trees or atop rocks, eyes closed, brows furrowed in focus. He was trying, day by day, to feel the faint presence of mana within himself. The loss of his arm still ached—not just physically but emotionally, gnawing at him with every reminder of how much weaker he now was.
Whenever Pao visited him, she'd walk quietly, sit beside him, and gently correct his posture or adjust his breathing.
And then, one morning just as dawn broke, Bral was seated in the same clearing. Pao watched in silence, arms crossed. The wind was still.
Then—a flicker.
A faint hum in the air, like static or the moment before lightning.
And Bral opened his eyes wide. "I felt it," he said.
Then again, this time stronger—a surge, a ripple just beneath his skin.
He stood up, hand trembling, and then—with a breath—released it. A soft glow burst from his form, barely visible to the naked eye, but Pao saw it. His mana—unrefined, raw, but there.
He shouted in triumph, "YES..! I did it!"
Pao clapped excitedly. "Well done. Now we can actually start!"
She immediately pulled out her notes and began showing him basic control techniques. Spellcasting was still a way off, but the doors were open now.
Meanwhile, Amukelo's training with Padrin didn't slow down. If anything, Amukelo was the one pressing harder. Their sparring sessions were relentles.
But Amukelo began noticing something.
Padrin wasn't the same. Not in technique—his sword still cut through the air with practiced grace—but in focus. There were moments where his guard would drop slightly too early, or his footwork would lose rhythm. He still held the edge in raw speed and power, but Amukelo was catching up—and not because he had suddenly surpassed him. It was because Padrin wasn't present.
During one of their afternoon spars, Amukelo made a tight feint to the left, spun around Padrin's side, and swung—a strike Padrin should've blocked easily.
But he didn't. He didn't even move.
Amukelo pulled his blade back before it connected and stepped back, frowning.
"Alright," he said. "What's going on?"
Padrin blinked and looked at him, startled. "What?"
"You weren't there," Amukelo said plainly. "That hit should've been blocked without effort. I've seen you handle better in worse conditions."
Padrin sighed and lowered his blade. "…Sorry. I've just been thinking a lot. About... about Celeste"
Amukelo lowered his blade and sighed.
"You can't let it get to you," he continued. "Think about it. What was the reason you even managed to find her in the first place? It wasn't luck. It was because you trained. Because you pushed yourself past every limit just to get strong enough to one day stand before her again."
Padrin looked down.
"So if you stop now," Amukelo said, his voice more firm, "it's like throwing away all of that effort. All of that suffering. You're not doing her any favors by being weaker."
Padrin exhaled slowly and nodded. "I know… I know you're right."
Then he lifted his blade again, resting it against his shoulder. "I have to tell you something."
Amukelo raised an eyebrow.
"If they move her," Padrin said, "if they transfer her to another city—I'm leaving. I don't care if I'm in the middle of training, I don't care what quest we're doing. If they move her, I'm going."
Amukelo nodded slowly. "I figured you would."
He sheathed his blade and stepped beside him. "We're not planning to stay here much longer anyway. One more rank-up, and we'll be Silver Rank Seven. After that, we'll move on too."
Padrin looked at him.
"So yeah," Amukelo continued, "it's fine. But for now… while we are both here—let's make the most of it."
Padrin took a deep breath, steadying his grip. "Alright. I'll focus. No more daydreaming."
They raised their blades again. And so, their training continued.
One day the group gathered in the common adventurer association room. Everyone stood close together.
Padrin walked in, holding a wrapped bundle under one arm and a familiar leather-bound book with a labradorite stone under the other.
He stopped in front of Bral and gave a small nod, then slowly unwrapped the bundle.
Inside was the prosthetic staff.
It was unlike anything any of them had seen before. It looked almost like an extension of a human arm—sleek metal and rune diagrams running along its surface, ending at the wrist in a socket designed to attach to Bral's remaining forearm. At the tip of the arm, where the hand should've been, was a refined magical crystal embedded in a metal brace, pulsing gently with pale light.
The base near the elbow bore a tiny insignia—Crimson Directive's insignia, stylized and subtle.
Bral stared at it in silence.
"It's enchanted," Padrin said as he held it out. "Lightweight. Should adjust to your balance over time, but it'll be strange at first. Especially since it doesn't have full nerve feedback. You'll control it through mana flow."
He handed over the grimoire next.
"And this," he added, "is a telekinesis grimoire. It works in harmony with the prosthetic. It's also a growth spell, so as time passes it will be even more useful. It won't give you all your old functionality back, but… it'll let you grip, push, pull. You might even be able to control it mid-combat. With time."
Bral took both items, his face unreadable at first. He looked down at the prosthetic, then slowly slipped it onto the remains of his forearm. It hissed quietly as the bindings locked in place and the enchantments activated.
The crystal flickered—responding to his mana.
Bral flexed. The artificial limb twitched in response, then lifted, following his intention like it had always been there.
"…Thanks," Bral said quietly.
Padrin shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. You lost it because of me. I just hope this makes up for some of that."
Bral looked at him for a moment. There was no anger in his face now. Just a steady, grounded look.
Then Padrin turned to Amukelo.
"I've fulfilled that duty," he said. "Now I can finally focus on Celeste. They're transferring her. It won't be a permanent holding yet—the full trial hasn't been scheduled—but once she's moved to a larger city, I'll have a better shot at speaking to her. Maybe… helping her find her way again."
He hesitated, his voice catching slightly. "And before I go, I just wanted to say—thank you."
He bowed his head to Amukelo, deeply.
"Thank you for everything you did. Especially…" his voice cracked, and he struggled to steady it. "…Especially for sparing Celeste's life back then."
Amukelo shook his head gently. "You don't need to thank me. Honestly, I'm just… glad I didn't kill anyone else. I was angry. I wasn't thinking clearly. But… I'm relieved. I don't regret sparing her."
They looked at each other. Then Amukelo extended his fist slowly.
Padrin bumped it with his own.
"I guess this is goodbye," he said.
Amukelo nodded. "Looks like it. I figured it was coming."
"If your guild keeps progressing the way it has," Padrin said, "we'll probably cross paths again. It's a small world once you start climbing the ranks."
Amukelo gave a small smile. "Then I'll make sure to keep up."
They shared a respectful nod, then Padrin turned back to Bral.
"I hope you can learn the grimoire quickly," he said. "And I hope you can become even stronger—and more unpredictable—than before. I really am sorry for your loss."
Bral was silent for a second, then he looked down at his new arm, flexed it again, and gave a faint smile.
"Well," he said, "if you believe scripture, God works for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose. Maybe He'll use this for good."
Padrin blinked, then nodded slowly with a faint smile. "Then I hope you're right."
He turned to the rest of the group—Idin, Bao, Pao. He hadn't spent much time with them, not really. But he still respected them.
"I never got to know you all," he said. "But if five people managed to build a Silver Rank Six guild this quickly, then I don't doubt that you'll make something incredible. Especially if you ever start recruiting."
Pao stepped forward and gave him a polite bow. "Good luck with Celeste."
Bao nodded. "Don't die."
Idin crossed his arms. "Try not to bring more trouble next time."
He gave one last look at all of them.
"Thank you. Really. For everything."
And with that, he stepped away, walking down the hall and out the association's front door.