Neither of them moved for a while after Hundred closed the book.
"I don't get it," Hundred said finally. "We just read a whole chapter and somehow I feel like I know less than I did before."
"Maybe that's the point."
Damian was still staring at the cover, as if the answer might be hiding somewhere in the worn silver.
"He keeps saying he doesn't know things. Over and over. For a guy who apparently spoke with gods, met a fire cleric who shouldn't exist, and traveled half the continent, he sure doesn't explain much."
"I remember when Vanabelle gave me the book. She said the stories in it weren't all true."
"That would explain some of it, then. Maybe parts of it were just made up."
Damian shrugged. "Travelers exaggerate. You'd know that better than anyone, with all those stories your dad used to tell."
"This feels different, though."
Hundred frowned, trying to find the right words. "With my dad's stories, you could always tell where the truth ended and the bragging started. This guy feels like he's actually trying to be honest. And the honest answer is just... he doesn't know."
They sat with that thought for a while as a cool breeze drifted through the open window.
"What stuck with you the most?" Damian asked.
Hundred thought for a few seconds. His hand drifted toward the necklace resting on the blanket beside him, the same one Vanabelle had hidden inside the book.
"The part about Charma having a color. Maybe even a shape, for the people who can actually see it."
He lifted it by the chain and watched the gold catch the sunlight pouring through the window. After a moment, he slipped it over his head for the first time.
"Makes me wonder what mine would look like. If I even have one."
"You'd need a blessing to see it," Damian said. "And as far as I know, no Path has answered you yet. The book did say everyone has Charma, though."
"Yeah, but it'd be nice if I could actually do something with it. Like you do with magic."
Hundred tucked the necklace beneath his shirt, still getting used to the weight of it against his chest.
"And what does this thing even mean, anyway? If I can't sell it and I'm not allowed to lose it, I guess wearing it is all I've got left. Right now it just feels like an expensive piece of jewelry."
"Maybe it already means something. Just not the kind of thing you're looking for."
Hundred shot him a sideways glance. "I'm starting to thi—"
"She didn't give it to you because some god told her to. And you're probably not the chosen hero of some ancient prophecy either."
"Hey, I wasn't going to say tha—"
"Maybe she just liked you and wanted to give you a gift."
"WHAT?!"
Damian immediately burst out laughing. "Relax. I'm kidding."
"You're lucky we're friends, or I'd make you take that back."
"I'm aware."
Hundred shook his head and looked down at the necklace again. "So I guess the only way to learn more is to keep reading. Or go all the way to the capital, find Vanabelle, and ask her what this thing actually means."
He turned it over in his hands, watching his reflection distort in the polished metal.
"Yeah," he said at last. "I think you're right."
"Besides..." Damian reached over and took the book from his hands. "The guy who wrote this spent his whole life looking for answers and never found most of them. If he could live with that, I think we've got time to find ours."
"Speak for yourself. I don't have that kind of patience. We're already thirteen. I turn fourteen soon, and I still haven't gotten any stronger."
Damian nodded toward the window. "Then we're sitting here for nothing. I'm pretty sure reading isn't going to turn us into knights any faster."
Hundred followed his gaze. A grin slowly appeared on his face.
"...You're right."
He stood up.
"Let's go train."
As the two boys stepped out the door, the warmth of the afternoon sun greeted them immediately. The sky was clear, and a gentle breeze drifted through the village streets, carrying with it the scent of fresh grass from the fields beyond. Full of energy after finishing the first chapter of the traveler's journal, they wasted no time making their way toward the training grounds.
As always, they began with their usual routine. Nearly an hour passed as they alternated between running laps around the field, endurance drills, and simple stretches before finally taking a short break. Damian walked over to one of the straw dummies and began practicing bursts of wind magic, each spell striking the target with enough force to scatter pieces of straw across the ground. Hundred, meanwhile, picked up one of the wooden training swords resting against the fence.
The sword still carried a familiar weight in his hands, but it no longer felt as burdensome as it once had. Every swing flowed more naturally into the next, his footing had grown steadier, and the stiffness that had plagued his movements months ago had almost completely disappeared. Even if he was still far from becoming a knight, there was no denying he had improved.
"You want to stick to the usual routine?" Damian called without looking away from the dummy.
Hundred twirled the wooden sword once before resting it across his shoulder. "Or do you finally want to compete? I still haven't given up on beating you."
Damian couldn't help but laugh. "Then we'll probably be here until winter."
Hundred answered with nothing more than a confident smile as the two stepped into the center of the training field and took their stances.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved. They simply watched each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.
Damian struck first. He left his magic aside, rushing in with nothing but the wooden staff held firmly in both hands.
Clack!
Hundred blocked. Another strike followed. Clack! Then another. Clack! The sound of wood colliding echoed across the empty field as they traded blows one after another. Not long ago, Hundred would have struggled to keep up with Damian's pace. Now, every attack was met with growing precision, and each successful block came more naturally than the last.
After several exchanges, Hundred allowed himself a grin. "Aren't you going to use magic?"
Damian raised an eyebrow. "You think I'll need it?"
With a flick of his hand, a gust of wind swept across the field. Hundred shifted sideways, letting it pass harmlessly behind him. Another gust came, then another. Each one missed by little more than a step.
Damian frowned. He's faster than before...
The brief hesitation was all Hundred needed. He pushed off the ground and closed the distance between them in an instant.
"Now!"
Damian instinctively retreated. There wasn't enough time to block, so he thrust both hands forward. A powerful current of wind erupted across the field, tearing loose dust, dry grass, and sand until a thick cloud swallowed everything around them.
"Not this time!"
Silence. Only the sound of the wind remained. Slowly, the dust began to settle.
Damian let out a slow breath. "I think..."
Something touched his neck. He lowered his eyes. The tip of Hundred's wooden sword rested calmly against his throat. Hundred stood before him, breathing just as heavily.
For a moment Damian simply stared. Then he laughed.
"I lost."
He lowered his staff and looked at his friend with genuine disbelief. "How are you moving like that? Did you keep training while I was in the hospital?"
Hundred didn't answer. His arms were trembling, and he stared at his own hands, unable to explain what had just happened himself.
Then he felt warmth beneath his shirt. Without thinking, he reached inside and pulled the necklace free.
The golden pendant emitted a faint glow, soft enough not to blind, yet bright enough to catch both of their attention. Neither of them spoke. The light lingered for only a few seconds before slowly fading away.
"...Did you see that?" Damian asked quietly.
Hundred simply nodded. Without realizing it, his fingers tightened around the pendant.
Only one thought echoed through his mind.
Thank you... Vanabelle.