The two first went to Maela's home before heading toward the village head's house together. The head lived on the same side of the village as the graveyard.
"So you really are hell-bent on leaving?" Maela asked as they walked.
"Yeah," Nova replied, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "Don't worry. It's not like I'll never come back."
"Yeah, I hope you do. But let's wait for the head's decision first."
"I told you before, didn't I? His decision doesn't change mine."
"Yeah, yeah," she sighed. "You did say that."
They kept walking, Mira leading her small horse while Nova carried a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. A satchel and a slingshot hung at his waist, the strap running from his shoulder to his belt.
"You want me to hold that for you?" Maela asked.
"Heh. Hold it for me? You sure you could even lift it?" Nova grinned faintly. "Just because I'm a kid doesn't mean I'm weak. Most villagers don't know this, but I'm a…" He paused. The Iron Mantle soldiers' words flashed in his mind, and his face darkened. "…a cultivator."
"Oh?" Maela raised a brow. "I know you trained with Joren years ago, but wasn't that when you were five? You need to actually enter the realms of cultivation before calling yourself one."
"Second stage," Nova said quietly.
"What?"
"I'm at the second stage of Flesh Tempering."
Maela stopped mid-step. "You're joking, right? I'm fifty years older than you, you know that right?"
"I'm not joking." Nova set the bag down. "Try lifting it."
She looked skeptical but bent to try. The moment she gripped the bag and pulled, her eyes widened—it was impossibly heavy. With effort, she managed to lift it an inch off the ground but couldn't raise it to her chest.
"How… It's so heavy! You really are—at eleven?!"
Nova said nothing. He picked it up easily, hoisting it to his shoulder and then above his head with both hands.
"Want more proof?"
Maela blinked, still processing it. "Ha… Haha. I guess I was worried for nothing. If that's true, you'll be fine out there…" Still, her eyes betrayed concern.
Before long, they reached the head's home. A crowd had gathered outside, voices full of worry.
"Calm down, everyone," said the head, an elderly man named Rusk. His white beard reached his chest, and his voice carried quiet authority. "I know we suffered a great loss. I should've been here sooner. May the lord let the souls of those who lost their life in the incident rest, but the only way forward is together—not through panic."
"You're right, Head Rusk," one villager said. "But what about repairs? We don't have enough funds!"
"I've been speaking with Oldmill Village's head," Rusk replied. "They were spared from the attack. I'll go again soon and ask for help. We've helped them before—perhaps now they'll return the favor."
"That's true!" someone called out. "We helped them when their crops failed three years ago!"
Nova whispered, "Father donated three hundred bronze that time."
"He did?" Mira asked.
"Yeah. You were three—you probably don't remember."
After a while, Rusk raised a hand. "Alright, everyone, go home for now. Take care of your families and shelter those who've lost homes. I'll handle the rest."
The crowd slowly dispersed until only Maela, Nova, and Mira remained. Maela approached the head.
"Maela," Rusk greeted her. "What brings you here? If it's about the village—"
"No," she interrupted softly, placing a hand on Mira's head. "These two are Joren and Elaine's children."
Rusk's expression softened. "I heard… what happened. The village owes much to Joren. I'm sorry for your loss, both of you."
Nova nodded quietly.
"But," Maela continued, "they came because Nova wishes to leave the village."
"Leave?" Rusk frowned. "Do they have relatives elsewhere?"
"No. None that I know of."
"Then why would—?"
"Nova believes the only way to grow stronger is to leave and train beyond the village."
Rusk sighed. "That's admirable, but you're still a child, son. The world is far too dangerous."
"I'm not waiting to grow older just to die to a demon before I can even defend myself," Nova said firmly.
"Demon attacks don't happen often," Rusk replied. "We won't see another for a century."
"Did you know they'd attack this time?" Nova asked sharply.
"No..."
"Then how can you be so sure it won't happen again?"
Rusk paused, caught off guard. "You make a fair point… but you'll be no safer outside."
"Then I'd rather be somewhere I can get stronger," Nova said, voice cold. "And besides, your permission doesn't matter. I'm leaving regardless. And just so you know, I'm a cultivator at second stage of Flesh Tempering. Pretty sure that makes me stronger than ninety five percent of the village's population."
"You…" Rusk turned to Maela, who gave a hesitant nod. "You're truly a cultivator?"
"Yeah."
Rusk's tone softened. "That's… impressive. But what about your sister?"
"I'm going with big brother," Mira said, gripping Nova's sleeve tightly.
Nova placed a reassuring hand on her head. "Our destination is the Verdant Mist Sect."
"What?" Maela gasped. "You never told me that!"
"Decided yesterday."
Rusk looked stunned. "You're hoping to become a disciple? They don't just accept anyone—you'll need talent or… money."
"Judging by you two's expression about my cultivation realm, I suppose being at second stage at eleven counts as talent," Nova said.
"Yeah... That's right." Said Rusk.
"Then it's decided," Nova said.
"But your sister—" Maela began.
"I'll protect her." Nova tapped the satchel at his waist. "I know what I'm doing."
Rusk sighed. "If you're truly set on leaving, then I have a favor. Could you pass a letter to Oldmill's head on your way west? It'll save me a trip."
"Oldmill, huh? Straight path west, right?"
"Yes. Wait a moment."
He disappeared inside, returning with a wax-sealed letter. "Here. Also—Rael's carriage will be passing soon. I'll pay for your ride."
"Oh… Thank you," Nova said.
Before long, the sound of hooves approached. "That should be him," Rusk said as they stepped outside.
Maela knelt beside Mira, her eyes glistening. "Take care, both of you."
"Yeah, we will," Nova said.
"Don't worry, Grandma Maela! I'm a big girl now!" Mira puffed her chest proudly—then suddenly hugged her tight. "I'll really miss you…"
Maela smiled through tears. "And I'll miss you, little one."
Nova gave a small nod. "Thanks for everything."
Rusk raised a hand. "Take care, kids."
As the carriage began to move, Mira waved until Maela and Rusk vanished from sight. Nova sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the fading village.
"Let's go," he murmured.
The road stretched ahead—unknown, endless.
Their first step away from Oak Village had begun.