The morning air in Sylvas Reach was sharp and clean, filled with the scent of damp bark and faintly sweet herbs drifting from the communal hearths. Noah had just stepped out of the registration house, the paper still fresh in his mind—his name now officially on record.
Valinish was already waiting nearby, calm as ever beneath the swaying limbs of a narrow tree draped with violet vines. He gave a brief nod.
"Come. There's something you should see."
Noah followed, still drying his hands on the edge of his shirt. They walked just beyond the registration house to a tree set slightly apart from the others. Its bark was pale, almost silver, and it shimmered faintly as if brushed with dew, even in full sun.
Valinish placed his hand on the trunk.
"I don't usually show this to anyone," he said. "But Lowarion said to show you something useful."
With a slow breath, Valinish whispered a word in Green Tongue. The vines around the tree stirred—not from wind, but from intention. They curled and opened, revealing glowing lines just under the bark, like veins of light. A strange warmth rolled out, brief and fading.
Noah stared. "What… was that?"
"Part of my skill," Valinish said. "I can channel certain types of natural flow—mostly through plants. This one's a wisteria variant. It's how I gather information without needing to speak. Sometimes, it's how I calm threats before they boil over."
He pulled his hand back. The tree hushed once again.
"My abilities are tied to nature," Valinish added. "Some elves are born with that. Some grow into it. It's rare for us to ever 'choose' our skills. They emerge based on who we are."
Noah frowned slightly. "And… you think I have something like that?"
"I think you're not as empty-handed as you feel," Valinish replied. "But some people only get one skill. Or two. Sometimes that's it. They never learn more. But the skill they do have—it matters."
Noah looked down, brow creased. "So how do I… find mine?"
Valinish nodded toward a nearby stone bench. "Sit. Close your eyes. Think about why you want strength—not just to have it, but why you need it. Skills react to will. To intent. It's like a lock that only opens when your mind is clear on what it wants."
Noah sat, a little unsure, but obeyed. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
At first, his thoughts scattered—faces, memories, feelings. The betrayal still stung: the look on his best friend's face when the truth came out… the shock in his girlfriend's silence. And worse than both was the loss, his parents, gone in a single, senseless accident. No closure. No warning.
But the past burned less than the present danger.
The goblins.
Yamagin.
The way the elves of Sylvas Reach eyed every shadow, every gust of wind. The settlement felt like a dam holding back something vast and cruel. Noah didn't want power for revenge. Not yet. What he wanted—needed—was to survive. And more than that… he wanted to keep these people, the ones who hadn't thrown him out, alive.
Safe.
He opened his eyes.
Two words hovered at the edge of his vision—not seen, but known. Felt, deep in his mind, like an instinct suddenly remembered.
> Resolve Echo (LV-1)
> Dominion Sense (LV-1)
Noah blinked. "I… I think I have two skills."
Valinish tilted his head. "That fast?"
"I focused. I thought about survival. And then… the names just came."
Valinish gave a quiet nod. "Then you've found your anchor."
There was a pause. Then the elf said, "You don't have to tell me what they are. That choice is yours."
Noah looked at him. He remembered how Valinish had revealed his tree-binding ability without hesitation. And for all their doubts, these elves had still let him sleep behind their walls.
He stood slowly. "I'll show you one."
He turned toward a nearby elf soldier standing post near the north path. The man was young, sharp-eyed, and clearly bored. Noah approached and spoke carefully.
"Hey. Who are those two people that are always with Chief Lowarion?"
The soldier blinked at him, then—without pause answered plainly, "Janus and Maximatron. They handle field intelligence and internal security."
Noah blinked. That was… direct. Too direct.
He turned and saw Valinish staring.
"That was confidential," Valinish said quietly. "Even I didn't know their names. Only inner security's told."
He let out a low sigh. "You used a skill, didn't you?"
Noah nodded. "Dominion Sense. I didn't force him. He just… wanted to answer."
Valinish closed his eyes briefly. "Then that's powerful. But reckless."
"I didn't know—"
"I know," Valinish said, raising a hand. "But I still have to report it. That's my duty, even if I trust your intent."
He looked at Noah, not with anger, but with calm seriousness. "Dominion Sense, huh? That's not a common skill. Be careful with it. Trust earned can be lost faster than you think."
Noah said nothing, jaw tight. He hadn't meant to cross a line.
Valinish turned back toward the trail. "Come on. Let's walk. Before the day gets too old."
As they moved through the dappled sunlight of Sylvas Reach's forest interior, Noah kept one thought tucked close:
He didn't want power to hurt people.
He just didn't want to be helpless anymore.
And maybe, just maybe, he could help make this fragile place safe too.
**10 mins later
The woods slowly opened into a broader clearing at the heart of Sylvas Reach. Tucked under a canopy of heavy boughs stood a modest wooden building—simple yet elegant, with carvings of leaves and stars running along its archways.
"This," Valinish said quietly, "is our Courthouse. It's not just for trials—we handle all administrative work here. Trade, land, disputes… diplomacy, too."
Noah followed him toward the entrance. Inside, the air changed. Cooler, sharper. Elves in deep green robes moved silently across the main hall, working on stacks of parchment, some of which floated midair, enchanted by soft glows. One elf gestured briefly and an inked document folded itself neatly into a scroll. Another chanted a preservation charm over a large ledger, the pages sealing shut with a faint golden trace.
At the doorway, an elderly elf in formal attire raised an eyebrow at them.
"Valinish," he said, voice deep and deliberate. "Purpose?"
Valinish straightened. "Escort duty. Emergency."
The old elf blinked, then nodded. He stepped aside without another word. "Third hall."
Earlier, Valinish had quietly asked one of the outer wall guards about Chief Lowarion's whereabouts. The answer was unsurprising: the chief is handling a dispute again.
This time, it was political. The merchant market council of Sylvas Reach had clashed with a representative from Żelazny Dominium—a powerful militarized human-led nation to the south of the Opusterra continent. Żelazny Dominium shared a direct border with the vast uninhabited wilds surrounding Sylvas Reach. Tensions over trade access were not uncommon.
They passed through a small corridor and approached an open chamber. Inside, at a long oaken table, sat Chief Lowarion. His shoulders were broad, posture tall despite his age. Beside him stood his aides—Janus, expression unreadable, and Maximatron, calmly scanning papers.
Across from them stood a sharp-featured man in black formal attire, with greying hair tied back and a long, gloved hand resting calmly near his waist. A large black bird—some breed between raven and hawk—perched on his shoulder. The man's eyes were dark, calculating.
Wiktor Dragan.
Merchant representative of Żelazny Dominium.
"You're asking for something you don't understand," Lowarion was saying, his voice even. "Trade isn't conquest."
"I understand the margin of profit," Wiktor replied, "and what sits behind your border is interfering with our routes. Whether it's goblins, your own patrols, or your... bureaucracy."
Lowarion didn't flinch. "We'll take a short break," he said suddenly, turning toward the door where Noah and Valinish waited.
"Wiktor," he added, "try the food house in the east wing. They still make Pine-Lily stew the old way."
The merchant gave a stiff nod, said nothing, and walked out slowly, the black bird watching them all as it passed.
Once the chamber was empty save for Lowarion, his aides, Valinish, and Noah, the chief gestured them forward.
"Speak."
Valinish explained the encounter. How Noah had awakened two skills. How one—Dominion Sense—had been used unknowingly to draw confidential information from a soldier. He kept it factual, respectful.
When he finished, Lowarion folded his arms and looked at Noah. His expression was calm, unreadable.
Janus and Maximatron merely watched. They said nothing, but their presence pressed like weight against the air.
"Dominion Sense," Lowarion murmured. "I've heard of something like it."
"You have?" Valinish blinked.
"It's not common. But we have records of it. It works through trust. Subtle direction. Not control—but… persuasion, when timing is right."
Valinish looked surprised, but said nothing more.
The chief turned to one of the aides. "Bring the soldier. The one Noah spoke to."
Minutes later, the elf soldier stepped into the room. Still in light armor, clearly confused but respectful. Lowarion gestured.
"Did this human ask you anything?"
The soldier scratched his head. "I think… maybe? I don't remember. I just remember feeling like I said something. I'm sure I did—but I don't know what it was."
Lowarion exchanged a glance with Maximatron.
"I see. That will be all."
The soldier bowed and left.
The chief then stepped forward, his eyes on Noah.
"You have a rare skill. Dangerous, even if you don't mean harm. But I don't blame you. It's instinctual. And trust is a fragile, precious thing here."
He paused.
"You'll train under me, for now. You'll learn what is safe to ask. And what is never spoken. Sylvas Reach does not survive because of strength. It survives because we know what not to say. And when not to ask."
He looked at Valinish, then back to Noah.
"You're to tell no one about Janus and Maximatron. They're internal security. And you're not to mention Dominion Sense to anyone outside us four. Understood?"
Noah nodded, still steady, but his heart thudded in his chest.
Lowarion gave a final nod. "Good. For now, you are still a guest. Stay safe. We all want this place to remain standing."
And just like that, Noah's path in Sylvas Reach—already fragile—took its first true step into something deeper than survival.