The system's warnings faded from his vision, but Derek felt their weight settle deep in his chest. Stats halved. Even without glancing at the sun directly, he could already feel the sluggish pull in his limbs, the unnatural heaviness sinking into his muscles. It was subtle, like moving through water rather than air, but he recognized the creeping weakness for what it was.
A handicap.
One he couldn't afford to show. However he's bound to embrace and adapt to it for know , he knew that that power wouldn't be priceless.
Eislyn walked a few steps ahead, seemingly unaware. Her strides were effortless, sharp, each step carrying the same cold precision that defined her presence. She hadn't looked back, hadn't paused or questioned why Derek had suddenly slowed for a fraction of a second. But he wasn't foolish enough to assume she hadn't noticed.
Stay composed.
He forced himself to move naturally, adjusting his breathing, easing into the discomfort rather than fighting it. The witches were watching—if not Eislyn, then the countless others whose gazes he had felt lingering since entering the village. He wasn't trusted. Not yet.
And trust wasn't given to the weak
"So, how do people here spend their time?" Derek asked, adjusting to the sluggishness creeping into his limbs. The gradual decline in power was unsettling, but he forced himself to push through it.
Eislyn didn't break stride. "Our pursuit of magic and power is constant. We study, train, experiment." She paused briefly, then added, "Those who don't isolate themselves spend time with their companions."
Derek raised a brow. "So, you're saying it's all work and no play?"
Eislyn glanced at him, unimpressed. "No. I'm saying that not everyone wastes time."
So, she's a workaholic loner. Derek wisely kept that thought to himself. Instead, he said, "I guess I'll be in the first category, then."
"It doesn't have to be that way. Not all witches are like the ones you've met so far," she said. "And not all of them are obsessed with power struggles." Her cold gaze flickered over him. "But regardless, you'll need education and training. I assume you don't even know how to use innate magic, do you? If so why didn't you use it ? . And we saw you merge into the shadows, which is far more advanced than basic magic and requires a Grimoire… and as far as I can see, you have none."
Derek frowned. "First of all, it's obvious they don't trust me. Those glares make that clear. Second, what's innate magic? And what exactly is a Grimoire?"
Eislyn stopped. For the first time since they met, she seemed genuinely thrown off. He had told them he'd lost most of his memories, but she hadn't expected a complete lack of magical knowledge.
"You're more unprepared than I thought," she said, crossing her arms. "If you want to navigate this world freely, you'll need to work harder than everyone else. As for the witches, they don't trust you because they don't know you yet. Once word spreads, they'll be more… accepting."
Derek exhaled. "You still haven't answered my second question."
"We'll save that for later," Eislyn said bluntly. "Right now, you look awful." She gave him a once-over, her gaze briefly lingering on the sweat clinging to his brow. He was visibly exhausted, his breathing slightly labored.
She had no way of knowing that, at this moment, the sun had fully risen—and with it, Derek's stats had been completely halved.
"Let's get you to your residence."
Derek didn't argue. The discomfort of his weakened state was unbearable, and rest sounded far too tempting. But as they passed through the village, something caught his attention—a bustling shop, lively despite the early morning.
Eislyn followed his gaze. "That's Evangeline's shop. It deals in magical tools and items."
Derek's interest piqued. "So, if I want to buy something magical, I go there?"
A hint of amusement flickered across Eislyn's usually stoic face. "You couldn't even afford the clothes you're wearing. And yet, you think you can shop at Evangeline's?"
Derek scoffed. "So you're saying I can't buy anything there?"
"That's not what I said," Eislyn corrected. "If you have the money, you can buy whatever you want."
Derek narrowed his eyes. "And how exactly am I supposed to make that kind of money?"
"It's simple," Eislyn said. "You register with the Silver Broom Society. It's open to all witches. They assign missions, and you get paid accordingly." A slight smirk touched her lips. "And as for regulations… they always bend to the Queen's will."
Derek raised a brow. "So when can I join?"
Eislyn gave him a side glance, her smirk deepening. "With your level? You won't get a thing from Evangeline. She's a prideful artisan—she only deals with those she deems worthy."
Derek exhaled sharply, unimpressed. "That so? And how does one get 'worthy' in her eyes?"
"You'd need at least a Silver-tier certification from the Silver Broom Society," Eislyn said without hesitation. "Bronze-tier missions won't earn you enough to afford anything she sells. If you want to make money fast, you'll have to push for Gold—or even Platinum. But…" She chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "That's something I doubt you'll ever achieve."
Derek kept his expression neutral, but deep inside, a quiet determination burned in his chest. Keep underestimating me. You'll be the one surprised. This is just the beginning.
Eislyn didn't comment further. Instead, she watched him for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind her cold eyes. Then, as if dismissing the thought, she turned and continued walking.
And for the first time in years, she felt… something. A spark of something she thought long lost. Is it because of him? Why did I voice my opinion so easily? Her pace didn't slow, but inwardly, she was unsettled. I haven't seen a man in… a very long time. But that shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter.
She shook the thought away, focusing back on the path ahead.
Derek followed, his mind equally restless. Power, money, recognition—it's all within reach. I just have to take the right steps.
The deeper they walked into the village, the more Derek took in the witches' way of life. Despite its eerie stillness, the settlement thrived in its own way. Magic coursed through everything—the walls, the ground, even the air itself. Every so often, he'd catch sight of witches performing rituals, tending to floating lanterns with whispered incantations, or weaving spells into cloth as casually as one would sew stitches.
Yet something felt… off.
The houses, clustered together in the heart of the village, became more spaced out as they continued. At first, Derek assumed they were simply nearing the outskirts. But when the last row of homes came into view, his brows furrowed.
One structure stood apart.
Unlike the other houses, which bore elegant carvings and embedded runes, this one was plain. Modest at best. Its wooden frame showed signs of age, and while it wasn't in ruins, it was clearly less maintained than the others. Most tellingly, it sat unnaturally far from the rest of the village, isolated.
Eislyn stopped in front of it.
"This," she said, turning toward him, "is yours."
Derek stared at the house for a moment. Then back at her. Then at the house again.
A dry chuckle escaped him. "So, you're saying the witches, masters of magic and refinement, decided to stick me in the middle of nowhere?"
Eislyn's face remained unreadable. "It's closer to the forest. Less disruption for everyone."
Derek scoffed. "Right. And totally not because they'd rather not have me in the middle of their village."
She didn't deny it.
Derek exhaled through his nose and stepped forward, gripping the handle. The metal was cold against his palm as he pushed the door open. The interior was… simple. A single bed against the far wall, a worn wooden table, a few shelves with basic supplies, and a small fireplace.
He took a slow breath, stepping inside fully.
Not much. But it was a place to rest. A place to think.
Behind him, Eislyn lingered in the doorway. She was considerate enough to give him space—he didn't look well, and after everything that had happened, he clearly needed it.
Little did she know that as soon as he entered the house, a familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[A shelter has been found. Stay sheltered until sunset to receive 20 free EXP.]
Derek's eyes narrowed at the floating text.
So, even the system thinks I should lay low…
He let out a slow exhale, stepping further inside.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he was alone with his thoughts.
And as he reached the bed, exhaustion finally caught up to him.
The weight of everything—his weakened state, the witches, the looming unknown—pressed down at once. He had questions for Eislyn, things he wanted to figure out, but the moment his back met the mattress, they all faded.
Sleep took him before he could even process it.
Derek's breathing evened out almost instantly. It was baffling—after everything that had happened, after all the tension, the testing, the weight of the unknown—he simply… slept.
Eislyn lingered at the doorway for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Then, with a faint shake of her head, she turned away.
"What an interesting fellow," she murmured to herself. "After all that, he still sleeps like a forest without a Queen."
With that, she vanished into the mist, making her way back to the castle.