The survivors of Oakhaven walked together for hours, away from what they used to call home. No one spoke much—exhaustion and grief hung heavy in the air.
They stopped twice to rest—once for Von to hunt while others foraged, again at a stream to refill waterskins. Despite the constant vigilance, no real threats appeared.
The first sign of other people came as a shock. A merchant caravan rolled past them on the road, heading in the opposite direction. The drivers and passengers stared at Vel's group with curious, wary eyes—taking in their torn clothes, haggard faces, and the way they huddled together like hunted animals.
Then, finally, the walls of Elnor rose before them across a sweeping meadow. The stone fortifications stretched three stories high, adorned with vibrant red and gold banners that rippled in the afternoon breeze. A steady stream of people flowed through the towering gates, with a separate line designated for merchants and their loaded carts
They passed through the entrance into the trade bazaar. Stalls and shops circled a grand fountain, scents of spices, bread, and leather mixing in the air. Beyond the market, a square split into three paths. Mora led them down the right fork toward the Guild building.
While the others waited in a small courtyard outside the Guild, Mora vanished inside. Vel sat on the warm cobblestones, absorbing the scene with a blend of familiarity and wonder.
This is surreal.
Giri's memories overlapped with the present, his original design clashing with the city that had grown beyond it.
Elnor had expanded. The streets had widened, bent to accommodate new buildings. Vines crept through broken roof tiles, moss spreading in the cracks. A puddle pooled where runoff had carved a natural drainage path—details he'd never thought to include.
But more than that, it was the people. Each one walked with different pace, different posture. Different clothes, colors, expressions. They weren't following simple routines. They were living.
The clouds gave way to warm sunlight, making him look up. The lord's mansion still stood on its hill, exactly where he'd placed it. But guards patrolled the walls now, their movements deliberate and watchful. It felt reinforced in a way his design never could have captured—real security, with real consequences for anyone who tried to walk through uninvited.
Under different circumstances, this would've been peaceful.
But the weight of Oakhaven's fate pressed heavily on his mind, making even this familiar place feel foreign.
Vel shifted where he sat, plucking at the grass growing between the cobblestones. Landre watched him, but her mind was elsewhere, gaze distant. Von stood off to the side, back facing them, posture rigid. They remained silent, waiting.
The Guild doors creaked open. Mora emerged, her expression carefully neutral as she approached them.
"We've got some mixed news," she began, her voice steady but tinged with weariness. "The good news is that the Vice Headmaster has agreed to help the survivors. Supplies and temporary aid can be arranged."
A murmur of relief rippled through those gathered, though Vel noticed Von's brow furrow deeper.
"And the bad news?" Von asked, his tone even but carrying an edge.
Mora let out a measured breath. "Elnor can't accommodate everyone at the moment. We're running low on both space and provisions."
The quiet settled back over them. Vel glanced at Landre, whose fingers were now clutching her amulet tightly.
Before anyone could respond, a figure emerged behind Mora, commanding immediate attention. Tall and sharply dressed in a meticulously tailored coat with gold embroidery, he had a silver chain gleaming against his chest, catching the scant sunlight in the courtyard.
Mora turned slightly and gestured toward him. "This is Graham, the Vice Headmaster," she introduced formally.
Graham surveyed the group with an air of composed authority, his eyes briefly meeting each of theirs before resting on Mora again.
"Welcome to Elnor," he began, his voice calm but firm. "I understand the journey here was not without hardship. You have my condolences for what transpired in Oakhaven." His eyes flicked briefly to Vel, lingering for a heartbeat before moving on. "Now, let me explain what must be done."
He clasped his hands behind his back, posture straight as a soldier's.
"I'll need to confer with the lord before we can finalize arrangements. Elnor's stores are already strained… but I'll see what can be done. No one here should bear more than they already have. It is imperative that we handle this through proper channels."
Graham turned to Mora and Bestiel. "You two," he said, nodding, "have completed your tasks. You've safely escorted the survivors to Elnor. Report to the receptionist to log your mission details. Rewards will be handled later."
Bestiel offered a slight bow in acknowledgment, while Mora gave a curt nod.
Graham then shifted his focus back to the group, his tone measured yet commanding. "I will need one of you to accompany me to meet the lord and provide a firsthand account of what occurred in Oakhaven." His gaze settled on Von expectantly.
Von straightened, his arms unfolding as he stepped forward. "I'll go," he stated without hesitation.
Graham nodded approvingly. "Very well. Follow me." Without another word, he turned on his heel and began walking toward the road leading up to the lord's mansion. Von glanced briefly at Vel and Landre before following.
Vel watched them disappear into the bustling streets, feeling an odd mix of relief and unease.
As Mora and Bestiel approached the Guild doors, preparing to step inside, a sudden voice called out from around the corner of the building.
"Mora-san!"
The sound was sharp yet high-pitched, unmistakably that of a child. Everyone turned. A young girl stood at the corner of the building—about Vel's age, with long straight hair cascading down her back. She wore simple clothes that hung loosely on her thin frame. Her hands fidgeted in front of her, fingers twisting the fabric.
"Where is Clara-neesan?"
Vel's stomach dropped.
No one answered. Mora's gaze shifted to the ground. Bestiel's hand found his grimoire, gripping the worn leather.
The girl's eyes moved between them, reading their faces. Searching.
"Where's Clara-neesan? Did she come back?"
Her voice rose, sharper now. Still no one spoke. Bestiel shifted his weight. Mora's mouth opened, then closed.
The girl took a step forward, small hands clenching her tunic.
"She promised… She promised to visit me yesterday and bring me treats…" Her voice cracked. "But I couldn't find her anywhere! I went to her inn and the Guild three times! Three times!"
Vel stood up from the cobblestones. He should say something. Anything. But the words wouldn't come. What could he possibly tell her?
He glanced at Mora, then Bestiel. Neither moved. Their silence said everything.
The girl trembled. Her eyes darted between their faces—Mora, Bestiel, Vel. Looking for something, anything.
Then her breathing changed. Shorter. Shallower.
She wasn't waiting for an answer anymore.
"She's not... coming back... is she?" A pause. "Like the others."
The question came out small. Not demanding. Not pleading. Just... knowing.
Vel's chest tightened as he watched the scene unfold.
She stood there, trembling. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
One breath. Two.
Then her face crumpled. The sob broke free—small at first, then growing. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She covered her face with both hands, shoulders shaking.
"Clara-neesan... you promised!"
The wail cut through the courtyard. Raw. Unrestrained. She cried like only a child could—without holding anything back.
Mora closed her eyes. Bestiel turned away.
Vel staggered back a step. His hand pressed against his chest.
This feeling.
He knew it. The day the important person was taken away from him. The day he woke up in this world. That sudden absence—the presence of a loved one just... gone. Empty. Gutted. The weight that pressed down until he couldn't breathe.
The girl kept crying, her small body shaking with it.
Vel's feet moved. One step, then another, ignoring the eyes that followed him—the other survivors, Mari, Landre. The distance between them closed.
He knelt beside her. His hands found her shoulders—hesitant at first, then steadier. The fabric of her tunic was damp beneath his fingers.
She kept crying, but she didn't pull away.
"I..." His voice cracked. He swallowed. "I was the last person who saw your sister."
Her sobs quieted. She lifted her face—tear-streaked, eyes red and swollen.
"I saw her fighting bravely. I saw her pull the monsters away. Protecting everyone. She protected me."
Celia stared at him. Her breathing was still uneven, catching on half-formed sobs.
Vel's grip on her shoulders tightened slightly. "We don't really know what happened to her yet. But there might still be hope. So... stay strong for her."
Fresh tears welled up, spilled over. But something shifted in her expression. Not peace. Not comfort. Just... something to hold onto.
"Stay... strong?" Her voice came out hoarse.
Vel nodded. He understood that need—to hold on to hope, even when everything said to let go.
A moment passed. Then Vel spoke again, quieter this time.
"I am Vel. What's your name?"
She sniffled, rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Celia."
"Celia." He paused, searching for words. "I know it hurts. But... what would Clara-neesan tell you to do right now?"
Celia stared at him. Her lip trembled, but she didn't look away.
Behind them, Mora and Bestiel watched without speaking. The moment stretched—fragile, but unbroken.
Mora knelt down, meeting Celia's eyes. She'd finally found her voice.
"Celia. Listen to me—Clara is important to all of us too. I promise I'll go out and look for her as soon as I can."
Celia's breathing slowed. Still shaky, but steadier.
"There's already another group of adventurers searching for her right now. They're doing everything they can to find Clara and bring her back safely."
Bestiel moved closer, his expression softening.
"In the meantime, why don't you show our new friends around Elnor? You know this place better than anyone else here—it'd be a big help!"
Celia wiped at her face with both hands. Once, twice. Then she nodded.
"O-okay."
Her voice was small, but there was something in it now—not hope, exactly. But purpose. Something to do. Something to hold onto until Clara came back.
Mora squeezed her shoulder before standing. She and Bestiel exchanged a look, then headed toward the Guild doors. They closed behind them with a soft creak, leaving Celia and the survivors in the courtyard.
Mari stepped forward, brushing her hands down her apron out of habit. Her gaze softened as it settled on Vel and Landre, then shifted to Celia, who stood with one hand still clutching the hem of her tunic.
"Vel, Landre," Mari said gently but firmly, gesturing toward the girl. "Why don't you go ahead and take Celia along? Spend some time together while we wait for your father to return."
Vel blinked up at his mother, caught slightly off guard by her tone—a mix of quiet insistence and maternal warmth. Landre gave a small nod of understanding before stepping closer to Vel's side. She leaned down slightly toward Celia, offering her a kind smile.
"Celia-chan," Landre began softly, crouching just enough to meet the girl's gaze directly. "Would you like to show us around? I bet there are some really nice places in Elnor that we'd love to see."
Celia hesitated for a moment, her eyes darting between Landre and Vel as though weighing their sincerity. Finally, she sniffled once more and nodded hesitantly.
Vel glanced at his sister, who straightened and reached out her hand toward Celia in invitation. The girl hesitated briefly before tentatively taking it, her small fingers wrapping around Landre's.
"Lead the way," Landre encouraged gently.
Vel followed as Landre led Celia away from the Guild courtyard, hand in hand. Landre kept up a gentle stream of questions—where did Celia like to play, did she have favorite spots in Elnor? The girl's answers came slowly at first, but her steps grew steadier with each block they walked.
Near a narrow alley, Celia stopped and pointed toward a weathered building tucked away from the main road. Its roof sagged in places.
"That's... the orphanage," Celia murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at Vel before looking down at her feet. "I stay there... because Clara-neesan is always working. There's no one else to look after me."
They stopped to look at where she pointed. Vel kept his expression neutral, nodding slightly. Landre's voice softened as she spoke.
"It looks like a cozy place. Do you have many friends there?"
Celia nodded faintly but didn't elaborate. Instead, she tugged lightly on Landre's hand, leading them further down the cobblestone path.
As they walked, Celia gestured toward a tall structure visible in the distance. Its roof gleamed faintly under the midday sun, standing out against the skyline of Elnor.
"That's the church," she said quietly, tilting her head toward it. "You can see its roof from here."
Landre followed her gaze. "It's beautiful. Thank you for showing us."
Celia offered a small smile before continuing to lead them through Elnor's bustling streets. They eventually reached an open square where several children were gathered, their laughter echoing through the air.
Among them stood a boy with gold-brown hair that caught Vel's attention immediately. His posture was relaxed yet confident as he turned to greet Celia with an easy grin.
"Kein!" Celia called out, releasing Landre's hand and running toward him.
Vel watched as Kein glanced over at them curiously, his gaze lingering on Vel for just a moment longer than necessary before breaking into a friendly smile.
Vel trailed behind Landre, observing Kein with a critical eye. There was something about the boy—his posture, the way he carried himself—that seemed out of place among the other children. Vel couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he filed the thought away for later.
Kein waved at Celia and then looked past her to Vel and Landre, his curiosity evident.
"Who're they?" Kein asked, his tone light but edged with interest.
Celia skidded to a stop in front of him, her face still slightly flushed from running. She gestured back toward Vel and Landre as they approached.
"This is Vel," she said quickly before pointing to Landre. "And that's his sister."
Landre offered a polite smile and inclined her head slightly. Vel stood silently for a moment, then took half a step forward.
"It's nice to meet you," Vel said evenly, keeping his gaze on Kein. His voice carried a calmness that felt out of place for someone his apparent age.
Kein studied him for a moment longer before breaking into another grin.
"Nice to meet you too! I'm Kein," he said cheerfully, sticking out a hand toward Vel.
Vel hesitated briefly before taking it. Kein's grip was firm but not overly so—friendly yet deliberate.
Celia shifted from foot to foot beside them, hands clasped behind her back.
"Vel and Landre are new here," she added helpfully. "They came from... uh..."
Her voice faltered as she glanced back at Vel uncertainly. He met her gaze briefly before stepping in to answer.
"Oakhaven," Vel said simply, his tone steady despite the weight of what those words carried now.
Celia's face lit up as she looked between Vel and Kein. Her earlier sorrow seemed to fade further into the background, replaced by a childlike eagerness.
"Vel is nice," she announced with surprising confidence, her voice soft but clear. "I think you two would get along really well."
Kein raised an eyebrow, his grin shifting into something a little more curious as he glanced at Vel again. "Is that so?" he asked lightly, crossing his arms as if sizing him up.
Vel didn't react immediately, keeping his expression neutral. He had learned quickly in this world that words carried weight—especially when spoken too hastily. Instead, he gave a small nod of acknowledgment toward Celia.
"We practice sometimes," Celia said brightly, looking between them with pride. "Kein and I... Clara-neesan shows us how to use a sword when she's not busy!"
That caught Vel's attention. His gaze flickered briefly toward Kein before settling on Celia again.
"You practice swordplay?" he asked carefully.
Celia nodded eagerly, bringing her hands to her chest. "Uh-huh! Clara-neesan says we need to protect ourselves... just in case." Her voice dropped at the end, worry briefly clouding her expression.
Kein quickly stepped in, clasping Celia's shoulder with an easy smile. "Yeah, but don't let her fool you—she's pretty good for her size," he said teasingly, earning an indignant huff from Celia.
Vel watched their exchange quietly. There was something endearing about the way they interacted—a camaraderie that reminded him of relationships long past.
Before the conversation could delve deeper, Landre placed a gentle hand on Vel's shoulder from behind. He turned slightly to look up at her as she offered him an apologetic smile.
"Vel," she said softly but firmly. "We should head back to the Guild soon."
Celia's face fell slightly at Landre's words but quickly perked back up as she looked between Vel and Kein one last time.
Vel gave a slight nod to Kein.
"It was nice meeting you, Kein." He turned toward Celia. "And thank you for showing us around."
Celia blinked up at him, her expression caught between surprise and disappointment. She opened her mouth as if to say something but hesitated.
Landre stepped forward, crouching slightly to meet Celia's gaze. "We'll see you again soon, Celia-chan," she said warmly, brushing a stray strand of hair from the girl's face. "Take care of yourself, okay?"
Celia hesitated for a moment before nodding. Her hand fidgeted with the hem of her tunic as she looked up at Vel one last time. "Okay... bye, Vel," she murmured softly.
Kein watched him, his expression unreadable—curiosity mixed with something else.
Vel turned and started back down the cobblestone path, Landre beside him. The square's noise faded behind them.
Landre glanced down at him after a few steps, her expression thoughtful. "Celia seems like a sweet girl," she remarked softly.
"Do you think Clara will be okay?" Landre asked suddenly, her voice low.
She paused, then added quieter, "If only we could have done more."
Vel slowed his steps. That same question haunted him too. If only he could have done more.
"She's not alone," Vel said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of the words.
Landre blinked, surprised by his response. Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing, simply watching him as they walked.
The Guild courtyard had changed in their absence. Voices overlapped in hurried conversation, figures moving with purpose where there had been stillness before. Mari stood near the entrance, hands clasped tight, watching a cluster of people gathered near one corner.
She spotted them approaching and reached out to touch Vel's shoulder, relief flickering across her face before concern replaced it.
"More survivors from Oakhaven," she said quietly, nodding toward the group. "A merchant found them on the road."
Vel scanned the survivors—at least ten new faces, children clinging to older siblings, hastily packed bundles. A foolish hope that maybe, somehow, Lili or Roen had made it out.
The image of Roen holding Lili hadn't escaped him.
He found neither among the group.
Landre stepped closer to their mother, her voice hushed yet urgent. "How did they make it past... everything?"
The survivors' torn clothes and dirt-streaked faces told their own story. Snippets of murmured conversation hinted at horrors faced on the road.
Mari's jaw tightened. "Luck. And maybe something more."
Landre nodded slowly, her brow furrowed as she scanned the crowd. "It's a miracle they made it at all."
The low rumble of approaching hooves broke through the murmur of voices. Vel turned toward the sound just as someone nearby called out.
"Look!"
He followed their gaze to see a carriage rolling into the courtyard, its polished wood glinting in the afternoon sun. Von sat at the front beside Graham and the driver, his sword still strapped to his side. Even from this distance, Graham's presence commanded attention.
Vel's focus shifted as the carriage came to a stop near the guild entrance. The door opened smoothly, and a figure stepped out—a woman whose presence seemed to draw every eye in the vicinity.
She was tall and slender, her movements graceful yet deliberate. Straight silver hair cascaded down her back, framing her face beneath a delicate black veil that obscured her features just enough to leave an air of mystery. Her elegant black dress hugged her figure without excess, while intricate frills adorned its edges like faint whispers of luxury. A matching headband sat atop her head like a subtle crown.
Vel blinked once, then twice as he processed what he was seeing.
An elf.
The pointed ears peeked through strands of silver hair left no doubt about it. A race he had only ever encountered in concept art and game assets now stood before him in flesh and blood.
For a moment, Giri's mind surfaced within Vel's consciousness, unbidden thoughts rushing forth: Kenji would lose his mind if he saw this.
By human standards, she seemed youthful—perhaps not much older than Landre. But Vel knew better than to trust appearances with elves. She could be as old as Mari, or even older.
Graham stepped forward. "Everyone, settle down. Allow me to introduce Lady Halen, the lord of Elnor."
Halen inclined her head slightly toward the crowd before speaking.
"People of Oakhaven." Halen's voice carried across the courtyard without strain. "You have faced the abyss and endured. For that, you have my condolences. More importantly, you will have Elnor's helping hand."
Vel watched her, noting how the murmurs died without her raising her voice. No demands. No threats. Just expectation that she would be heard—and she was.
"You will be fed. You will be given a place to rest." She paused, her gaze sweeping across the gathering. "But I will not offer you false comfort."
The crowd shifted uneasily.
"I cannot promise you the future. I can only give you the present. Elnor has its own troubles. Our granaries are not vast. Our wells are not bottomless."
"To give to you is to take from another. This is the hard arithmetic I must face." A pause. "That we all face."
Shoulders sagged around Vel. An elderly man muttered under his breath.
"In return, I ask for your strength." Halen's tone carried weight but no harshness. "If you can hold a hammer, tend a field, or stand a watch—step forward. Your hands will help bear the weight you add."
Mari exhaled softly.
"The guards' training yard will be your home for now. Tents and essentials will be provided."
"Now," Halen said, her voice rising to a conclusive clip. "Graham will lead you. Go with him, and find your respite."
The survivors shuffled forward, sluggish from exhaustion yet motivated by Halen's calm authority. Graham gestured for the group to follow him to the guards' practice area.
Von turned to join the procession, but Halen's voice stopped him mid-step.
"Von," she called, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Vel watched as Von paused and turned back, tension flickering in his shoulders—an instinctive wariness settling over him like an old habit.
Halen stepped closer, her movements deliberate. She gestured for Von to approach while the crowd trailed after Graham.
Von glanced at Mari before striding toward Halen.
Vel couldn't hear their exchange. Halen spoke softly, for Von's ears only. His father's posture stiffened slightly as he listened.
The conversation was brief. Finally, Halen inclined her head.
Von pivoted and returned to the group. As he passed Vel and Landre, his face revealed nothing—his focus already on leading them ahead.
Vel exchanged a glance with Landre but said nothing as they followed Mari into the growing line of survivors led by Graham. The hum of quiet conversation filled the air as they moved through Elnor's bustling streets, curious and watchful eyes tracking their passage from doorways and market stalls.