I got back home to find a crowd gathered in front of the house.

People whispered among themselves, glancing toward the door, some stepping aside the moment they noticed me. The air felt heavy, like something had already happened and I was the last to know.

Had they returned?

I didn’t think. I just ran.

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the looks, the murmurs, the way people leaned back to let me pass. My heart was pounding so hard it almost drowned everything else out.

“You’re a lucky young man,” an old woman said as I rushed past her.

I didn’t stop.

The house was empty downstairs, but I could hear voices above. Movement. Urgency.

I took the stairs two at a time and pushed open the door to my parents’ room.

Mother stood beside the bed.

Father was sitting up, pale but awake, his hand pressed against his abdomen where thick cloth had been wrapped around his wound.

“Sweetheart? Where were you?” she asked, relief and worry tangled in her voice.

“I… I woke up and you weren’t there,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “So I went looking for you…”

“I’m sorry,” she replied softly. “We didn’t mean to worry you.”

Father looked at me and smiled, like nothing had happened.

“Did I make you worry, son?”

My eyes dropped to the bandage.

“…Father…”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said with a small laugh. “It’s just a wound. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

He said it so casually it almost made me angry.

“I’m so sorry,” I said before I could stop myself. “I dragged you there knowing it was dangerous. I should have—”

His hand closed around mine.

Not tight. Not forceful.

Just enough to stop me.

“I won’t leave you,” he said.

I froze.

There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt.

“It makes me happy,” he continued, “knowing you understand that you have a father who’s still here. Still by your side.”

I couldn’t answer.

The words sank deeper than they should have.

Just like I left mine.

He shifted slightly, wincing, but kept speaking anyway.

“I want to see you grow up,” he said. “I want to see what you become. I want to hear people at my stall talking about it every day… about my son. Heinberg’s child. A prodigy with an Eidolon.”

A faint chuckle escaped him.

“Rhys Heinberg… that name is already spreading.”

I stared at him, unable to say anything.

All I could think about was Lys.

I never got to see her grow up. Never got to see who she would become. She was just… frozen. A memory of something that never had the chance to exist.

And now—

He was saying the same thing.

In his own way.

That same quiet wish.

To watch someone you love become more.

I tightened my grip on his hand without realizing it.

“I’ll be fine, son,” he said gently. “You should be thanking that other lady.”

“Lady?” I repeated.

“She brought an elixir. Mixed it with the medicine the Hestia medics gave me. The pain disappeared almost instantly. Even they were surprised.”

An elixir.

My chest tightened.

“She’s in Reesay’s room,” he added.

I nodded and stepped out without another word.

The moment I reached the hallway, I could already hear voices coming from her room. One of them—

Syr.

I knocked once and entered.

She was there, standing near the bed like nothing had happened. Beside her stood a tall armored knight bearing the crest of Hestia, his presence calm but imposing.

“Looks like you’re back,” she said.

I stared at her. “What are you doing here…?”

“I told you I’d help,” she replied simply. “That’s what I’m doing.”

My attention shifted to the bed.

Reesay lay there, motionless. Her torso was wrapped in blood-stained cloth, her breathing shallow but steady. A woman in lighter armor stood beside her, carefully adjusting the bandages.

I stepped closer.

My chest tightened.

If I had acted sooner… if I hadn’t hesitated…

“I’m sorry…” I whispered, my voice barely holding. “Reesay…”

The room went quiet.

“I swear… I’ll become strong enough to protect you,” I continued, my throat tightening. “Strong enough to protect everyone I care about. Strong enough that no one gets hurt again…”

My vision blurred before I even realized I was crying.

A short silence followed.

“Quite the promise for a young man.”

The voice startled me.

I turned and wiped my eyes, only now realizing how exposed I must have looked.

The knight stepped forward slightly.

“You showed courage,” he continued. “Trying to save Miss Valdengaard from those hunters. That is no small thing.”

“I…” I lowered my gaze. “Who are you…?”

“Ah, forgive me,” he said with a slight nod. “Ruben von Falkenrath, Chief of Security for the Eastern Sector of the Kingdom of Hestia.”

I straightened instinctively. “Rhys Heinberg. It’s an honor, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he replied. His eyes studied me for a moment. “It is rare to see a child capable of manifesting an Eidolon. You must be quite gifted.”

“Even with it… I couldn’t protect them,” I said quietly.

He hummed, then lowered himself to one knee so we were at eye level.

“You carry a weight no child should,” he said. “Responsibility like that… it is not yours to bear.”

His hand rested briefly on my head.

“And yet, you still stepped forward.”

I didn’t respond.

He exhaled softly.

“If anything, the fault lies with us,” he continued. “We allowed an international criminal group to operate this close without intervention.”

“International… criminal?” I asked.

He nodded. “A group known as the Velkaryn Syndicate. Poachers, traffickers… hunters of sentient races. They are wanted across multiple kingdoms for violations of fundamental sentient rights.”

My fists clenched.

“I give you my word,” he said firmly. “We will deal with them. This village will be protected. It should never have fallen to a child to face such things.”

“Well,” Syr cut in casually, “you shouldn’t really consider him a child.”

Both of us turned toward her.

I felt my face heat up.

“What do you mean?” Ruben asked, amused.

She met his gaze, then glanced at me. “You’ve seen it yourself. The way he speaks. The way he thinks.”

Please stop.

“He’s not like other children.”

Ruben chuckled lightly. “I suppose that’s true. His composure is… unusual.”

“Maturity,” Syr said quietly.

There was something in her tone that made the word feel heavier than it should have been.

I looked away.

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment.

Or a warning.

“Regarding Miss Valdengaard,” Ruben said, his tone shifting back to something more official, “I believe it would be best if she remains in this village for the time being.”

I frowned slightly. “Wouldn’t that be more dangerous?”

He shook his head. “On the contrary. I’ve already ordered reinforced patrols and stationed additional guards around Wolkenburg. Right now, this is one of the safest places in the region.”

He paused, glancing briefly toward Syr.

“If my assessment is correct, the Velkaryn Syndicate did not go through the trouble of transporting Dragonites from the Drachenfall ranges only to lose such… valuable assets without response.”

Syr’s gaze lowered, her expression tightening ever so slightly.

“They will come back,” Ruben continued. “And if they do, it is far easier for us to intercept them here than to chase them across the continent.”

A quiet tension filled the room.

“They won’t take me again,” Syr said.

Her voice had changed.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t emotional.

It was… cold.

Everyone turned toward her.

“They were fortunate,” she continued, “that I was unprepared. That I didn’t expect them.”

Her red eyes lifted, steady and sharp.

“The next time they try… there won’t be enough left of them to identify.”

Silence fell.

I shifted slightly, glancing between them.

I’m still here, by the way.

Ruben let out a small laugh, easing the tension.

“Well, while I appreciate the enthusiasm, I would prefer if we captured their leader alive.”

“The butcher…” I said quietly.

“Yes,” Ruben nodded. “Kael Varn. The most dangerous member of the Velkaryn Syndicate. His Eidolon makes him particularly… troublesome. But he is not beyond reach.”

I looked back at Reesay.

“He’s already done enough,” I said under my breath.

A faint pause followed.

Then Syr moved.

Without a word, she stepped forward and reached for Ruben’s longsword, drawing it from its sheath with casual familiarity. The metal caught the light as it slid free.

Ruben didn’t react.

“Can it work without ingestion?” the medic asked, her voice careful.

Syr nodded slightly. “As long as it enters the bloodstream.”

Before I could process what she meant, she turned the blade and sliced her own palm.

A thin line of red appeared instantly.

The medic carefully pulled back the bandages around Reesay’s wound.

I looked.

And immediately wished I hadn’t.

The cut across her torso was deep, raw, the kind of wound that shouldn’t just… heal.

My stomach tightened.

“Dragonite blood is not something we share lightly,” Syr said, her voice calm. “Consider this a gesture of gratitude… for saving my life.”

Her blood began to drip.

It fell onto the wound.

And then—

It changed.

I saw it.

Not imagined.

Not exaggerated.

I saw it.

The flesh moved.

Muscle fibers knitting together, threads pulling and reconnecting as if time itself had reversed. The wound closed gradually, unnaturally, the skin reforming over it until nothing remained but a faint trace.

The medic quickly covered it again, her hands trembling slightly.

I couldn’t speak.

That… shouldn’t be possible.

A moment later—

Reesay’s eyes opened.

“…Young master?”

My heart skipped.

“Reesay?” I rushed forward, grabbing her hand. “Reesay, I’m so sorry, I— I should have—”

Her hand moved.

Gently.

She cupped my face.

“It’s alright,” she said softly.

Her voice was weak, but steady.

“As long as you’re safe… that’s all I wished for.”

I froze.

“…That’s not enough,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “It’s not enough if you’re the one getting hurt instead of me.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“You shouldn’t have had to fight him,” I continued. “You shouldn’t have had to bleed like that. If I was stronger… if I had acted sooner…”

My grip tightened unconsciously.

“I can’t call myself a king,” I said quietly, “if I can’t even protect the people closest to me.”

The words felt heavy.

Too heavy.

Because they were true.

“If this is what it takes…” I added, my voice lowering, “then maybe I need to become stronger than all of them. Strong enough that no one can touch you again. Strong enough that I can end it before it even begins.”

Violence.

Power.

Control.

The same things I had been trying to avoid.

“…If that’s what it takes to protect you, then I’ll—”

“—No.”

Her voice stopped me.

Soft.

But firm.

I looked at her.

Reesay’s eyes were clear now, focused entirely on me.

“That’s not what I want,” she said.

I frowned slightly. “But if I don’t—”

“You already protected me.”

I blinked.

“What…?”

She smiled faintly.

“You came back,” she said. “You worried. You apologized. You chose to stand here instead of running away from it.”

Her hand remained against my cheek.

“That matters more than any strength.”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

“You don’t need to become someone else to protect me,” she continued. “You don’t need to become something cold… or cruel… or distant.”

Her gaze softened.

“I believe in you as you are.”

Those words…

They didn’t erase the guilt.

They didn’t make what happened okay.

But they… weakened something.

That growing thought in the back of my mind.

That maybe the only way forward was to become like the people I feared.

“You want to protect people,” she said quietly. “Then don’t lose yourself while doing it.”

Silence settled again.

I lowered my head slightly.

“…But what if that’s not enough?” I asked.

Reesay didn’t hesitate.

“Then we’ll find another way.”

Not you.

We.

That word lingered longer than anything else.

For a brief moment, the weight in my chest eased.

Just a little.

And I realized something.

Syr spoke of strength.

Of dominance.

Of making sure no one could ever stand against you.

But Reesay…

She believed in something else entirely.

Not power over others.

But standing with them.

And somehow…

That felt just as strong.