We bid farewell to the rough-looking mercenary and went on our way.
Wandering through the city, I stopped at a shady clothing store. Now that I had gold, I could finally get something clean and well-fitting.
An overly cheerful young man greeted us, his smile a little too wide. He showed us around, his shop offering a strange mix—armor, peasant clothes, even some finer pieces. The almost absurd variety made it obvious these were stolen goods. Not that I cared.
The girl helped me pick out something a bit more stylish, though to me, as long as it covered my body, it was good enough.
By the time we were done, I looked like a proper mercenary—boots, leather armor, a cloak, and a layer of chain mail beneath. For the quality of the equipment, the price was fair.
The girl bought a cloth band to cover her missing eye.
We grabbed some food from a street vendor before heading toward the gate. The forest outside would be the perfect place to train. Close enough to the city to avoid serious threats, yet isolated enough to avoid prying eyes.
I needed a way to use the Usurper's power without relying on him. I could feel it, coiled deep within me—I just had to reach it.
The forest swallowed us in silence, the damp earth muffling our steps. Birds scattered at our approach, but otherwise, it was still. The kind of quiet that felt unnatural.
We stopped in a clearing where the trees loomed overhead, their branches curling like gnarled fingers. The girl sat on a fallen log, arms crossed, watching as I stepped forward, gripping my sword.
I had no teacher, no scrolls of wisdom to guide me. Only instinct.
I swung my blade. Again. Again. My muscles burned, sweat slicking my palms. I focused on that flicker of aura I had felt before, chasing it like a phantom. It came and went, slipping from my grasp the moment I thought I had it.
The girl yawned.
"Is swinging a sword over and over really training?"
I ignored her.
Aura wasn't just power—it was intent made manifest. I needed to want it, to will it into existence.
Closing my eyes, I imagined the Usurper's presence—the overwhelming, crushing weight of him. His strength, his hunger. That coiled energy lurking inside me.
I struck again.
This time, something answered. A faint pulse, like a heartbeat, thrummed through my veins. My sword cut deeper into the air, the force behind it greater than before.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
I pushed harder. My breathing grew ragged, muscles aching with exertion. The more I strained, the more the power resisted.
Then, pain.
A sharp tearing sensation lanced through my arm. I hissed, staggering back. A deep cut—too deep. Blood welled, dripping onto the forest floor.
I frowned. It hadn't been there a moment ago.
The Usurper's power… was this it? The wound pulsed, skin shifting beneath the blood. It was slow, barely noticeable, but it was happening.
Regeneration.
I clenched my fist. The wound itched as the flesh mended itself. Not completely, not instantly—but enough to know I was changing.
The girl raised a brow.
"That's new."
I exhaled. My body felt different—like something had been unlocked, but I still didn't understand it.
I trained until my limbs were sore, until my head pounded with exhaustion. Slowly, through trial and error, I began to grasp it.
Aura wasn't something to force—it was something to let flow. Like a river. Like breath.
I closed my eyes. This time, I didn't chase it. I let it rise.
When I struck again, the blade hummed with unseen energy. The impact shook the ground.
The girl whistled.
"Now that was training."
I smirked, rolling my shoulders. My body still ached, but I could feel it now—both the aura and the Usurper's lingering presence.
This was only the beginning.
As the dying embers of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, we made our way back to the city.
Near the gate stood an inn where we would spend the night. Stepping inside, I noticed a young man at the counter, long dark hair falling past his shoulders, a longsword tied to his waist. He was arguing with the innkeeper over the price of a room, his frustration evident.
There was something familiar about him.
The innkeeper's tone was flat, unimpressed.
"If you want the room, it's two gold a night. No negotiation."
The young man scoffed.
"Come on, old man, that's outrageous! At that price, I could stay in a nice inn near the upper city."
The innkeeper waved him off.
"Then go do that and stop pestering me."
The young man looked ready to explode but eventually sighed in defeat.
"Alright, fine… Give me one of those shitty dorm rooms."
"One gold."
Reluctantly, he handed over the coin.
I approached the counter.
"What are these dorm rooms you mentioned?"
"A room with a few beds. You share the space, but it's cheaper."
"Alright, I'll take one."
The innkeeper glanced past me, addressing the girl.
"And you, missy? You going with him?"
"Nah, I'll get my own room," she replied before turning to me."
"See ya tomorrow."
I gave her a wave and headed to my room.
Inside, four beds were arranged against the walls. Two were empty. The third was already claimed—by the young man from earlier. He looked up as I entered, clearly unimpressed.
"Tch. Was hoping I'd get this room to myself… Guess there's nothing I can do."
He leaned back against the bedframe.
"The name's Arwik."
"veyr."
He eyed me for a moment.
"Hmm… You're not from around here either. Nice to meet you."
Arwik studied my sword, his sharp gaze lingering on the edge before flicking back to me.
"You got a mighty fine blade there. You a swordsman too?"
"Something like that,"
I replied, setting my things down.
He leaned back against the bedframe, arms crossed.
"I can tell. The way you move—you've actually used that thing in a fight."
A smirk tugged at his lips.
"Unlike most of the idiots walking around this city, swinging steel they've never bloodied."
He wasn't wrong. Most mercenaries I'd seen in the city were all talk. Arwik, though, he had the look of someone who had been in real fights—and won them.
I shrugged.
"Had to. Got no choice when people are trying to kill you."
He chuckled.
"Ain't that the truth?"
His gaze lingered for a moment, then he tilted his head.
"What's your deal, anyway? You're new around here, right?"
I didn't answer immediately. He wasn't wrong, but I wasn't about to spill my life story to a stranger.
"Just passing through,"
I said.
Arwik raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.
"Passing through, huh?"
He exhaled through his nose.
"Well, if you're looking for work, there's plenty. City's a mess. Always someone needing a sword."
I didn't respond. He watched me a little longer before finally shrugging.
"Well, whatever. Not my business."
The room fell into silence. I stretched out on the bed, exhaustion settling in. The training had taken more out of me than I thought.
Just as my eyes were starting to close, Arwik spoke again.
"You heading out tomorrow?"
"Yeah."
"Got work lined up?"
I glanced at him.
"Maybe."
Arwik smirked.
"Hah. I knew it."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Listen, I don't like sitting around doing nothing. If you're taking a job, I'm coming with you."
I raised a brow.
"Why?"
He shrugged.
"Gold. Boredom. Take your pick."
The truth was, he was probably sizing me up—figuring out if I was someone worth keeping around.
Before I could respond, a voice came from the doorway.
"Sounds fun."
I looked up to see the girl leaning against the frame, arms crossed. She had changed into a fresh set of clothes, the cloth band tied neatly over her missing eye.
"You two planning on running off without me?"
she asked.
I smirked.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Arwik eyed her, then back at me, before grinning.
"Looks like we got a party, then."
He stood, stretching.
"Alright. Get some rest. I wanna see what kind of work you're getting into tomorrow."
I wasn't sure if this was a good idea or not. But one thing was clear—Arwik was coming along, whether I wanted him to or not.
And somehow, I had a feeling he'd make things very interesting.