The sun was still rising over the horizon when Auther rolled up the last of the sleeping mats. Morning dew clung to the grass, and the air was thick with silence — the peaceful kind, rare in this world.
Veyra was already up, standing watch with her usual cold composure. Elira still slept curled on her side beneath a wool blanket. Lyra, however, was wide awake, sparring alone with her blades in the training circle they'd carved into the dirt.
Her twin daggers moved like whispers — one slicing, the other deflecting an imaginary strike. Auther watched from the edge of the clearing. She'd gotten better. More fluid. Her movements had a rhythm now, less frantic than before.
"Your left hand's still lagging," he called.
She stopped mid-motion, then turned with a sheepish grin. "Was hoping you wouldn't notice."
"You're fighting me, remember?" he said, stepping closer. "I notice everything."
Lyra chuckled but didn't argue. Her violet eyes shimmered faintly in the dawn light. There was something in her gaze — not defiance, but focus, like a forge stoked hotter each day.
Auther tossed her a flask of water. "Drink. You've been at it since before sunrise."
She caught it. "Couldn't sleep."
"Nightmares?"
"Memories," she said, voice quieter. "Old ones."
He didn't press. If she wanted to talk, she would.
Instead, he turned toward the others. Veyra was still scanning the perimeter with hawk-like eyes, her white hair falling like a curtain over one shoulder. Elira stirred beneath the blanket, mumbling something about "five more minutes."
They were a strange team — a quiet assassin with noble posture, a smiling thief with shadows in her past, and a bright-eyed village girl who could barely hold a dagger three days ago.
Yet, somehow, they fit.
---
They ate in silence, seated around the makeshift stone hearth Auther had shaped with Earth Manipulation. Lyra leaned back against a log, tossing pebbles into the fire. Veyra sat upright, hands folded on her lap, her eyes watching everything. Elira blinked sleepily, her braid half-undone, still waking up.
"You all need to be ready by this afternoon," Auther said. "We're heading deeper into the woods. There's a zone I haven't cleared yet."
"Monsters?" Elira asked, perking up.
"Likely E1 to E3 range," he said. "Good enough to train your instincts. But not strong enough to wipe us out if you mess up."
Veyra gave a single, deliberate nod.
Lyra cracked her knuckles. "Finally, something to stab."
Auther smirked. "Just don't stab me."
"No promises."
---
The clearing they reached was overgrown, the trees here more twisted, more ancient. Mana thickened the air like mist. The sunlight dimmed, filtered through dense canopies.
Auther stopped at the center of the glade.
"This is it," he said. "Let's see what you've learned."
A shriek rang from the treeline — not human. Two mana-mutated beasts lumbered into view, their twisted limbs and spiked hide a grotesque reflection of wolves. Their bodies dripped corrupted mana, thick and black.
Auther didn't move.
"Your fight," he said.
The girls stepped forward, weapons drawn.
Lyra moved first, dashing to the right. Her body blurred with Shadow Flicker, a skill Auther had helped her refine. She feinted left, then ducked under the wolf's lunge and slashed across its underbelly — only shallow, but enough.
Elira followed, striking from the left with a nervous cry. Her dagger nicked the beast's shoulder, but she didn't back down. The second beast turned toward her, jaws snapping.
That's when Veyra struck.
From the shadows, her training staff slammed into the beast's flank. She moved with calculated grace, her stance almost… regal.
Auther narrowed his eyes.
Veyra didn't just move like a trained fighter — she moved like someone bred for it. Her footwork, her angles, the way she kept perfect center balance…
Not learned. Inherited.
He filed the observation away.
The fight was messy. There were stumbles, close calls, even a moment where Elira nearly took a claw to the face. But they won.
Barely.
The beasts fell, their mana cores pulsing dimly in the aftermath.
Elira collapsed onto the grass, panting. Lyra leaned against a tree, wiping blood from her cheek. Veyra, as always, stood quietly, breathing barely quickened.
Auther stepped forward, examining the corpses.
"Not clean," he said. "But effective."
Lyra smirked. "Compliments? From you?"
"I said effective. Don't push your luck."
She laughed, though the fatigue was clear in her eyes.
---
They set up camp early that evening. The woods were quiet, the mana oppressive but not dangerous. Auther sat sharpening his blade while Elira boiled water. Lyra cleaned her daggers with a cloth and water.
Veyra sat alone again, facing the fire but not looking at it.
Auther watched her.
There were… signs. The way her eyes glinted in darkness. The faint shimmer of mana around her even when idle. He'd seen something similar once — in a gate record that mentioned high-tier vampire nobles, their bloodlines dormant until awakened.
He couldn't confirm it yet. But he suspected.
And if she did have a hidden bloodline...
He'd need to prepare her. Quietly.
---
Later that night, when the others had drifted off, Auther remained awake by the fire. Lyra stirred beside him, stretching.
"You ever think about what you'll do when you're strong enough?" she asked suddenly.
Auther didn't answer right away.
"Maybe explore the stars," he said eventually. "See what's beyond this world."
Lyra smiled. "Typical boy answer."
"And you?"
She hesitated. "I… want to be free. No chains. No debts. Just… freedom."
He looked at her.
"In this world, freedom is earned with power."
She nodded. "Then I'll earn it."
There was silence between them for a while — a comfortable one.
Then Auther added, "Stick with me. I'll make sure you get there."
Her eyes flicked to him. A quiet warmth in them this time.
"I already am."