The sound of wheels creaking over gravel breaks the hush of early morning.
I open my window and lean out, just enough to see it—an old, paint-chipped carriage rattling its way through the village gate. Two sturdy horses, one black and one gray, pull the cart slowly past the bakery, where steam still curls out the window.
The merchant driving it is hunched, broad-shouldered, with a thick red scarf tucked into his coat and a face marked by road-wind and age. He holds the reins like someone who's never dropped them in his life. He glances around with a casual, sweeping eye—like he's seen a thousand villages like ours.
And maybe he has. But he's never seen this one through my eyes. I press my hand to the windowsill. It's time.
By the time I've laced my boots and strapped my satchel, the village is already gathering near the cart. I step outside into the golden morning light, clutching the strap of my bag a little too tightly. The warmth of the sun doesn't quite reach the chill in my chest.
Lina spots me first. She wipes her hands on her apron and rushes over, eyes already wet. "Oh sweety, you really are leaving…" She grabs both sides of my face, tilting my head like she's checking for something. Like if she looks hard enough, she'll see the baby I never was in this life.
Then she hugs me. So tightly I almost drop the satchel. "Stay warm. Stay full. Don't forget your scarf in the wind. And for the love of everything—don't go picking fights with random people, alright?"
I let out a weak laugh. "No promises. But I'll try." She pulls back, sniffing, but her smile doesn't falter. "We'll keep your room just the way it is. So if you ever feel homesick—"
"—I know where to find home," I finish for her.
Rennan joins us next, carrying the bundle of food they packed for me—wrapped in thick cloth and tied with string. He holds it out. "Dried meat, trail bread, berry preserves. Enough for a week if you ration it."
"I'll make it last," I say, accepting it carefully. He lingers for a second, then steps forward and places a firm hand on my shoulder. "You're our pride and joy, Albus. You always will."
"I'll try to be someone worth that pride."
"You already are."
The village leader, Erdric, approaches the merchant near the cart and hands him a small cloth pouch. I hear the coins jingle. "This covers the boy's passage to Oakhart," Erdric says. "He's one of ours. Treat him well."
The merchant nods. "We'll be passing that way anyway. I'll make sure he gets there in one piece." He turns to me with a nod. "Hop in whenever you're ready, lad."
I glance back at the crowd. Dozens of faces. Some I barely spoke to. Others who watched me grow. Who gave me quiet nods when I passed with water buckets. Who cheered when I landed one clean strike in the field against Varric. And speaking of Varric—
He walks up last. Coat flapping in the wind. No emotion on his face. But I know better now. He holds something out. A folded parchment. Bound in red string.
"What's this?" I ask, taking it carefully.
"Letter of recommendation," he says. "Take it to the adventurer's guild in Oakhart. Won't get you in immediately, but it'll open a door." I stare at the letter like it weighs more than the satchel on my back. "Thank you," I murmur.
He shrugs. "Just don't embarrass me."
"I'll try not to." A pause. Then, unexpectedly, he leans in and places a hand on the top of my head. "I taught you how to survive. The rest is yours to live."
I nod. "I won't waste it." I take one final look at everyone. All the faces I've come to recognize. All the voices that once sounded distant, now familiar. The children wave tiny cloths and shout my name like it's some grand title.
I almost want to laugh. Or cry. Or both. I raise a hand, steady despite the knot in my chest.
"Thank you," I say, loud enough to reach them all. "For accepting me. For everything." I look toward Lina and Rennan, then to Varric. "For giving me a place to belong. I'll repay your kindness. I swear it."
I see Lina's hands clench the front of her apron again. She nods, her lips pressed into a trembling smile. Rennan simply gives a thumbs-up—simple, quiet, and strong, like always.
Varric doesn't say anything more. But he lifts his chin slightly. That's enough.
I turn to the merchant. "Ready." He nods, reaching a gloved hand to offer me help onto the cart. I take it. The wooden steps creak under my boots as I climb up and swing myself into the back of the carriage. Inside are a few crates tied with rope, a barrel or two, and some sacks that smell faintly of cinnamon and dried grain.
It's not comfortable. But it's enough.
The seat I find is firm, and the window flap gives me one last clear view of the village gate.
The merchant clicks his tongue to the horses. They snort and begin to pull. The wheels turn. And the village begins to move away.
Slowly. Too slowly. I lean out the side just a bit, holding onto the wood frame.
Everyone's still waving. So I wave back. I lift my arm, fingers wide. I don't trust my voice now, so I say nothing.
I just watch. Watch the houses. The river. The edge of the training field. The spot where I learned to make fire for the first time. They all shrink behind us.
I don't know how long I keep looking back. Maybe until the houses disappear behind the hill. Maybe until the last flutter of Lina's scarf vanishes into the trees.
The road grows quieter. The cart rocks gently as we follow the dirt path eastward, toward places I've never seen before.
Wind moves through the grass. Birds take off from fence posts and scatter overhead.
Eventually, I sit back fully inside, shoulders sinking against the cart wall.
The stillness feels heavier now. But not bad. Just… real. Final. The merchant glances over his shoulder briefly. "First time leavin' home?"
"Yeah," I reply softly. He nods, adjusting the reins. "It's always a strange thing. Excitin'. A little painful too."
I look out at the open fields. They stretch endlessly on both sides—green and gold under the sun. "Feels like everything's too big all of a sudden," I mutter.
He chuckles. "That's how you know you're growin'. Means you got room to fill."
I think on that for a moment. Room to fill. He's right, I guess. I used to wonder if I ever had a place in this world.
But now… now I know I do. But maybe there's more than just one place. Maybe I can build something new.
My hand drifts to my side pouch and touches the folded letter from Varric. Then to the scarf Lina gave me, already wrapped loosely around my neck. Each item… a thread. Each thread… a part of me.
I'm not leaving them behind. I'm carrying them with me. Even now. Even as the forest thins and the signpost ahead says: Oakhart. 3 days.
[Objective Completed: Survive]
Congratulations. You have successfully completed the tutorial.
From this point onward, you are free to do as you wish.
Go forth, and experience the world with your own two eyes.
[Current Status]
Name: Albus
Age: 5
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class: None
Occupation: None
Location: Willowmere(Outskirt)
Strength:12/Toughness: 12/Stamina: 15/Dexterity: 9/Perception: 16/Charisma: 6
Titles: Soul Migrator(Corrupted)/ Blood Moon Curse/Pupil of Varric/Resident of Willowmere/
Skills/Traits: Minor Healing(Lvl. 3)/ Poison Resistance(Lvl. 2)/ Combat Instinct - Basic(Lvl. 7)/ One Handed Weapon(s)(Lvl. 7)/Hand to Hand(Lvl. 4)/Soul Vision(Lvl. 1)/Aura(Lvl. 1)/Magic(Lvl. 1)/