The night deepened, a black shroud descending over the world. Silence enveloped the land, broken only by the faint whispers of the wind.
Moonlight streamed through the cracks in the stone walls, casting faint silver patterns across the room. Shadows danced lazily, painting the walls in restless shapes.
Rosentine sat by the bed, her face soft and warm under the pale glow. She gazed down at Kaito, who lay curled against her lap, his small frame relaxed and at peace.
His curious eyes peeked up at her from beneath her arm, bright and innocent.
"Kaito?" Rosentine murmured softly, her voice distant, as though carried on the wind.
Kaito stirred, his gaze shifting to her face. "Mom, are you calling me?"
His voice, though clear, carried a hint of warmth and innocence — a sound that tugged at Rosentine's heart.
She smiled faintly, brushing her fingers through Kaito's newly grown white hair. It was soft like silk, smooth beneath her fingers.
"Do you like your name?" she asked softly, her voice unsure.
Kaito's face lit up with a bright smile. His eyes curved into crescents, and his sharp little teeth peeked through.
"I love it!" he said without hesitation. "As long as you gave it to me, I love it!"
Rosentine's smile wavered, a flicker of sadness crossing her face. She hesitated.
"Mom?" Kaito asked, worried. He reached up and squeezed her trembling hand.
"It's nothing," she whispered. "I was just wondering... if I gave you another name — a real name — would you like it?"
"Of course!" Kaito beamed. "Any name from you is the best name!"
Rosentine chuckled softly, her eyes misting over. "Good boy," she whispered, pulling him closer.
"Mom will teach you Elvish," she added with a smile.
"Okay!" Kaito grinned brightly.
The morning light seeped through the cracks in the cavern wall, bathing the goblin armory in a dull glow. The room smelled of rust and stale air. Broken swords, cracked axes, and battered shields lay scattered across the space like discarded trash.
"Pick whatever suits you," the old goblin barked. "You'll need it when you're out there."
The younger goblins surged forward, eagerly snatching weapons from the pile.
A scrawny goblin struggled to lift a heavy battleaxe, his thin arms trembling before he surrendered and chose a smaller axe instead.
"Hah!" a brutish goblin laughed. He stomped forward and hoisted the large axe with ease, grinning as the other goblins cheered.
Kaito examined the mess of weapons with little interest. Most were chipped, rusted, or poorly maintained — hardly reliable tools for survival.
Still, he picked carefully. A pair of daggers — light and sleek — found their place strapped to his thighs. He selected a few smaller knives to hang from his belt.
He considered a bow but quickly dismissed the thought — too fragile and unreliable. Throwing knives would be faster and deadlier in his hands.
As Kaito searched further, something in the shadows caught his eye — a pistol, discarded like worthless scrap. Curious, he knelt and examined it. The weapon was crude, built with primitive craftsmanship, and held only three rounds.
"They don't even know what they're throwing away," Kaito muttered. He pocketed the pistol.
"Have you chosen?" the old goblin barked.
"Yes," Kaito answered simply, securing his weapons in place.
"That's it?" one of the patrol goblins sneered, eyeing Kaito's light gear. "Don't you know those humans are clever? You'll need more than knives to survive."
"If you carry too much," Kaito retorted coldly, "you'll be too slow to survive."
"Ha!" another goblin jeered. "Doesn't matter. If you die, we'll just take your stuff back anyway!"
The others laughed, their cruel voices filling the armory.
Kaito ignored them, his hand brushing against the dagger at his hip — the black blade he had claimed earlier. Its edge gleamed, sharp and deadly.
"Blackthorn," he murmured to himself.
It would be enough.