Orin Alpheratz (15 years old) Location: Solaris Date: Year 873 / Crow Cycle (3) / Bard's Day (9)

  The path was pitch black; only the crunch of the boys’ footsteps broke the silence, swallowed by the rustling of trees bending with the cold breeze. Everything about their escape felt improvised—because it was.

  "We should’ve brought warmer clothes," Rick muttered, shivering. "I’m freezing."

  "You think that’s the worst part?" Loki whispered back. "We didn’t even bring weapons. If another patrol shows up, we’re dead."

  "That’s why we need to avoid drawing attention," Orin reminded them quietly. "I still have my dagger… and one arrow left. But that won’t be enough if something goes wrong."

  Neither of the boys looked particularly reassured, but they nodded anyway. They walked a little farther, slow and cautious, when a flicker of moving light appeared in the distance.

  "Another patrol…" Loki groaned. "At this pace, we’ll never find a safe place to camp."

  "We’ll have to go around them through the woods," Orin said. "It’ll take longer, but we can’t risk being seen."

  "And the magical beasts in there?" Rick asked nervously. "Isn’t that riskier?"

  "Don’t worry," Orin replied. "If it comes to that… I’ll take care of it."

  They slipped off the road and into the forest. The darkness thickened instantly. Every step had to be measured—one crunch too loud could give them away. When the lantern-bearing soldiers walked past and their light finally faded, Orin led the boys back onto the main road.

  "At some point, we’ll have to fight," Loki whispered. "If we keep dodging patrols, we’ll never make it to the West Gate."

  "But without proper weapons we don’t stand a chance," Orin insisted. "For now, safety comes first. We’ll move slowly if we have to."

  Rick suddenly gasped. "Loki—what about the wagons?"

  "What wagons?" Loki blinked.

  "The supply wagons! The ones the Solaris army leaves by the roadside during long deployments."

  "What do you mean?" Orin asked, sensing the idea forming.

  "When we travel from Balabar to Solaris, we always see wagons along the route," Loki explained. "They’re used to supply the guards at the West Gate. I think Rick’s saying that raiding one of those would be easier than taking on a patrol."

  Orin’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Are they heavily guarded?"

  "Not really…" Loki said. "Usually two or three guards. The real problem is finding a wagon in this darkness."

  Orin scanned the darkness in every direction, but the world beyond a few steps was swallowed whole by night. He could barely make out Loki’s or Rick’s faces—anything farther than that was impossible to see.

  "Wait here. I have an idea," he said.

  Before either of them could reply, Orin slipped off the path and into the trees. Feeling his way through the trunks, he found one thick and sturdy enough to climb. With a fluid motion, he scaled it, gripping branches until he reached a suitable height.

  From above, the road stretched out like a faint, broken line. The only things visible were the lanterns of patrolling guards—tiny drifting lights swaying in the distance. Nothing else. No wagons. No silhouettes. Not even tracks.

  "Damn it… If I were a real hunter, I’d be able to track a cart even in this darkness," he muttered under his breath.

  It had only been days since he awakened his Hunter class, but for the first time, he genuinely regretted how late it had happened.

  "Maybe I can force the tracking skill out… like I did with the other skills," he murmured to himself as he leapt down from the branches.

  Landing quietly, he inhaled deeply, grounding himself. He placed both hands against the cold earth, closed his eyes, and whispered:

  "ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Tracking."

  For an instant, he felt energy flow out from his hands—then sputter and vanish as it touched the soil.

  He tried again.

  And again.

  Each attempt ended the same way, energy dispersing uselessly into the ground.

  “It’s no good,” he sighed. “I’m channeling it like an offensive skill. That’s not how this works.”

  He sank back against the trunk, shutting his eyes, forcing himself to breathe calmly.

  "When I met Andromeda… I felt like I could do anything. If I could just feel that again…"

  And then—

  Her name echoed in his mind.

  Andromeda…

  His thoughts slipped away, drifting into something vivid, as if falling into a lucid dream.

  He saw an inn.

  Andromeda sat at a wooden table beside the old knight. They were eating. Calm. Safe. The scene felt real—real enough that Orin forgot to breathe.

  But the vision lasted only a few seconds before dissolving.

  He tried to hold onto it—onto every sensation. So he reached outward with his mind: listening, smelling, feeling.

  Suddenly, the world shifted.

  He saw the road, but not from where he stood. He saw Loki and Rick whispering on the path, the wind stirring their hair.

  Then his perception drifted farther, sliding along the road like a ghost—

  There.

  Half an hour ahead.

  A solitary wagon tucked between trees off the roadside. Two guards standing watch. A faint glow of a small lamp hanging from the side.

  Then the vision snapped.

  Orin gasped softly and opened his eyes, finding himself seated with his back against the tree.

  "Was that… a dream?" he whispered. "Or… did I activate Tracking? Or some other vision skill?"

  He couldn’t be sure.

  But he did know there was a wagon on this road, guarded, and roughly thirty minutes ahead.

  And that was more than enough reason to act.

  When Orin returned to the path, he saw two silhouettes rushing toward him through the dark.

  "What happened?" Loki demanded. "You took forever."

  "We thought something got you," Rick added nervously.

  "Sorry," Orin said, dusting his hands. "I climbed a tree to get a better view of the area."

  "So? Did you see anything?" Loki asked, a hopeful edge in his voice.

  "Yes. I spotted a cart parked about thirty minutes ahead," Orin replied, carefully omitting everything about the vision. This wasn’t the time to explain something he didn’t understand himself.

  "You saw a cart that far away?" Rick blinked. "In this pitch-black night?"

  "Yeah," Orin lied smoothly. "Or at least it looked like a cart. Either way, we need to check it out. And if I’m right… it’s guarded by two men. So stay sharp."

  The boys exchanged a look—somewhere between impressed and doubtful—but nodded.

  As they resumed walking, Rick’s voice rose hesitantly from behind:

  "Um… how exactly are we supposed to deal with those guards?"

  "I’ll handle it," Orin answered immediately. "I’ll draw them away. If I can get both to leave their post, you’ll have free access to the wagon."

  "Even if you manage that," Loki muttered, "we won’t be able to see anything. It’s too dark."

  "Don’t worry. You’ll see fine," Orin said, confidence returning to his voice. "The real problem is time. We’ll probably alert someone, so you’ll only have a few minutes to search. If you find weapons, take them. Clothes, food—whatever helps. But don’t stay long. Understood?"

  The boys exchanged another bewildered look, then answered in unison:

  "Yes."

  They walked in tense silence for several minutes, the forest around them growing denser and heavier with each step. Orin’s heart beat faster—he knew they had to be close.

  Then, through the trees, he spotted a faint glow.

  "There," he whispered. "See that light?"

  "That has to be the guards," Rick breathed. "So… what now?"

  "We go a little closer," Orin said, eyes narrowing. "Once I move, wait for your chance. As soon as I pull both of them away, it’s your turn."

  After their brief huddle, the three boys crept forward until they were close enough to see the faint glow between the trees. When Loki and Rick nodded, Orin slipped silently into the woods, disappearing from sight like a passing shadow.

  "I should have recovered enough energy for this," he told himself, steadying his breath.

  "ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Speed Up 10%."

  A surge of power pulsed through his limbs—light, warm, and exhilarating. Ten percent wasn’t much, but it was all he needed for mobility, not combat.

  Feeling his body grow weightless, he scaled the nearest tree with ease. Branches whipped past him as he leapt from one trunk to the next, closing in on the dim lantern light. The darkness made each landing uncertain, but his enhanced speed allowed him to glide just far enough to compensate.

  Still, every impact shook the branches, leaving behind a trail of rustles and snapping twigs.

  Below, the guards stiffened.

  "Did you hear that?" one whispered. "The damn trees sound like they’re moving."

  "What if it's a magical beast?" the other murmured, unease creeping into his voice.

  "Unlikely," the first guard snorted. "Most of them avoid light."

  Orin finally reached a thick branch overlooking the clearing. The small oil lamp beside the cart flickered weakly, illuminating the two guards seated around it. Their silhouettes were clear. Lazy. Distracted.

  "Perfect… exactly what I needed," Orin breathed.

  He drew a single arrow from his nearly empty quiver and nocked it. Below, the guards relaxed again.

  "See? Must’ve been the wind," one muttered. "Night shifts are hell during this season."

  "Yeah… good thing we brought some liquor," the other chuckled.

  Orin exhaled slowly, bowstring pulled taut. His aim locked onto the oil lamp.

  "ACTIVATE HUNTER SKILL: Solar Arrow."

  Light surged across the arrowhead, brightening until it glowed like a shard of dawn. He released.

  The arrow streaked through the darkness in a brilliant line—and struck.

  A sharp pop echoed as the lamp burst, sparks scattering. Flames licked upward from the oil-soaked ground, spreading in an instant.

  Before either guard could understand what had happened, the camp was already beginning to catch fire.