Xulian’s eyes fluttered open to dim lantern light and the soft rustle of canvas. Her body felt heavy, every movement slow and deliberate. She didn’t speak at first, scanning the small tent with sharp, measured glances.

  “You’re awake,” a soft voice said. Lilian’s hands were busy with the blanket over Xulian’s shoulders, but she didn’t look up. “Finally. I was beginning to worry.”

  Xulian’s green eyes narrowed slightly. “Where… am I?” Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of caution in each word carefully chosen.

  “You’re in our camp, on the 18th floor,” Lilian said, finally lifting her gaze to meet Xulian’s. “I’m… helping you recover. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”

  Xulian’s body tensed instinctively. “A while… and no one has harmed me?” Her tone was even, but the question carried the weight of suspicion.

  Lilian blinked at her, then offered a small nod. “No. You’re under watch. My guard is stationed outside. You’re safe.”

  Xulian’s eyes flicked toward the entrance of the tent. She noted Sunette’s rigid stance and the faint outline of her armour in the lantern light. Still, her gaze returned to Lilian. “I see.” She allowed herself a slow, controlled exhale, though her muscles remained stiff.

  Lilian paused, sensing the wariness, and chose her words carefully. “We... didn’t mean to harm you. Everything went completely wrong back there. So I apologise.” Lilian gave her a gentle bow.

  Xulian’s eyes studied her quietly, unreadable, expressionless. “I am still cautious. I do not know who you are or why I have been brought here. But thank you for treating me.”

  “You are welcome,” Lilian said with a bright smile, trying to ease the tension, though she kept a professional distance. “I need to make sure you’re stable and on your feet before we move.”

  Xulian’s gaze swept the small space again, lingering on the faint shadows, the way the light shifted over the canvas walls. “Very well…” The words were calm, almost polite, but her posture remained guarded, shoulders squared, hands close to her body.

  Lilian glanced at her briefly, realising the girl’s composure and elegance gave the impression of a noble presence. “You… carry yourself well,” she said softly.

  Xulian’s lips twitched—almost a smirk, but fleeting, gone before anyone could notice. “Is… that so?”

  Lilian nodded, allowing her fingers to resume adjusting the blanket. “We’ll stay here until you’re strong enough to move. You’re safe with us, I promise.”

  Xulian’s green eyes never left her, but for the first time, the tiniest flicker of consideration passed across them. She said nothing, letting the promise linger.

  The soft crunch of footsteps outside the tent made Xulian tense immediately, recognising the presence. She shifted slightly, ready to react if necessary.

  “Miss,” Lilian said gently, raising a hand with a soft smile. “It’s alright. He’s here to check on you.”

  Xulian’s green eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move. Her gaze fixed on the figure stepping into the dim lantern light: broad shoulders, sharp features, golden hair slightly tousled—a face she inwardly labelled as typical hero material. Predictable, narrow jaw… justice-driven types who confront demon kings, she thought, smirking inwardly but masking it completely.

  The man carried a bundle, which he carefully set on the small table beside her. “I am Cilian, commanding officer of this expedition,” he said calmly, with a small bow.

  Lilian straightened. “Oh, yes—introductions. I’m Lilian Minelle, Saintess of the Celestine Temple,” she introduced softly. “And this is Sunette, Paladin of the Celestine Temple, and one of my guards.”

  Sunette inclined her head briefly, eyes alert.

  Xulian’s gaze flicked between them, cautious and measured. Wait… wait, is this the cliché hero and harem scene? The hero, the saintess, and the warrior princess—shtick?

  Cilian tilted his head slightly, expression calm. But he noticed her strange gaze as she looked at them. “No harm will come to you here, I assure you,” he stated, wondering if she was still worried about them attacking her. A pang of guilt struck his heart looking at her figure, noticing her laboured movement despite her grace.

  Xulian’s lips twitched almost imperceptibly before her expression froze again. Typical hero face… predictable, yet somehow comforting in its simplicity, but I’m not falling into some harem route with you… she thought, observing him silently and giving him a sharp glare.

  Cilian shifted uncomfortably, noticing her glare, and unwrapped the bundle carefully. From it, between some general items like dried food and herbs, he drew the rusted, battered sword Xulian wielded, letting it rest in his hands. “I’m not sure if this is even usable anymore,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I thought you might want it back, though.”

  Xulian’s green eyes flicked to the blade, her expression cold and unreadable as always. She reached out and took it carefully, holding it in both hands. The steel was pitted and dulled, the hilt frayed and warped. A strange mixture of sadness and resolve passed through her mind.

  She spoke softly, her voice almost ceremonial, as she remembered the novels she read. “Mister Rusty,” she began, giving the blade a small tilt as if bowing to it, “you’ve accompanied me faithfully through my first steps, through every beginner’s mistake and clumsy swing.”

  Cilian raised an eyebrow. Lilian tilted her head. Sunette’s hand hovered over her hilt, tense.

  Xulian continued, her voice low but clear, mixed in solemnity. “May you find a new purpose… perhaps guiding a newbie on their first journey. I hope you find the old tutorial grandpa NPC and give him my thanks. Thank you for the lessons, even though our journey was short, Mister Rusty. You’ve earned your retirement.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  A faint silence fell over the tent. Then, almost imperceptibly, tiny flakes of rust and dust lifted off the blade, shimmering faintly in the lantern light. Xulian’s fingers tightened slightly, still holding it in respect.

  “Now… farewell,” she whispered.

  The sword crumbled. Dust drifted upward, a fine mist rising as though the weapon itself accepted her words. In moments, nothing remained but a small pile of rust and old metal fragments.

  Xulian straightened, her posture perfectly straight, graceful, yet her inner thoughts betrayed a hint of astonishment. What the fuck just happened? That was freaky…

  Lilian’s mouth opened and closed, completely unsure of what to say. Sunette’s eyes were wide, watching the dust settle. Cilian exhaled slowly, voice low and slightly awed. “I… I didn’t expect it to—”

  Xulian turned her gaze to him, calm, neutral, eyes like cold emeralds. Ok, ok, stay calm, this is a fantasy world, no big deal… “It’s done. Its journey is complete,” she said softly.

  The tent fell silent again, the rusted sword gone, leaving only memory, respect, and Xulian’s strange words hanging in the air.

  Xulian’s eyes lingered on the faint wisp of dust where the sword had been. The lingering warmth of the metal, now gone, left a strange emptiness in her hands. She exhaled softly, a quiet acknowledgment. “Goodbye, Mister Rusty,” she murmured, voice low, almost like a private incantation.

  For a heartbeat, the tent was silent. Sunette blinked, eyebrows raised in confusion. Lilian tilted her head, uncertain if she’d understood. Only Cilian’s eyes lingered on Xulian, narrowing slightly—not in suspicion, but in interest. He could feel the weight of reverence she had placed on that useless weapon, and it told him more about her than any words could. A swordsman’s respect for their blade was not casual.

  “Is… that how you usually speak to swords?” Lilian asked carefully, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

  Xulian’s green eyes flicked to her, cold and precise, though a trace of exasperation softened her tone. “I… try to treat them as companions,” she said evenly. “Even a rusty, useless one deserves acknowledgment.” Her voice was measured, but the subtle inflection hinted at a practised care she rarely allowed herself to show.

  Cilian cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “You… value your equipment differently than most.”

  Xulian tilted her head just slightly, almost imperceptibly, but there was a shadow of caution in her eyes. “Perhaps. I’ve had to adapt to… situations where one cannot rely on trust alone,” she said, voice neutral but precise, leaving little for interpretation. She carefully observed the three in the tent, measuring them, as if deciding which of them were threats—or allies.

  Sunette shifted uneasily, gripping her weapon. Lilian, on the other hand, kept her gaze soft, sensing the girl’s caution. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a day,” she said gently. “Do you remember… how you ended up here?”

  Xulian’s eyes narrowed slightly, her body still taut, as if ready to flee at any sign of hostility. “I… I don’t really,” she said slowly, choosing her words. “I don’t… remember all the events leading to my arrival here, other than a white space and then a broken-down stone cottage.” The words were neutral, factual, but they carried a defensive edge, as she explained everything from the moment she arrived till when they found her, leaving out some details like her mental training space. She hoped it would satisfy them without revealing too much.

  Cilian watched her carefully, noting the subtle grace in the way she shifted, the precise control of her breathing, the way she kept her posture despite exhaustion. He had met many a noble lady at court, many of them being thrust upon him for political marriage. Her elegance wasn’t natural—it was forced, honed. He’d seen many ladies being trained like some kind of noble breeding stock ready to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. She reminded him of that type. Years of discipline, practised movements, and the careful control of expression and hand gestures.

  This only made him more curious and wonder how someone like her ended up here.

  Lilian, unaware of Cilian’s inner assessment, inclined her head slightly. “I see,” she said. “We will do our best to ensure you’re safe here. You needn’t fear harm from us.”

  Xulian’s gaze flicked briefly to Lilian, the words acknowledged, but her inner caution remained intact. “I am cautious… still,” she admitted softly. “I cannot simply… trust strangers, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She allowed a small, almost imperceptible pause, measuring their reactions.

  Cilian’s voice broke the quiet. “We have encountered… goblins stationed here. That is why we are here—to investigate and secure the area.” He explained, his tone calm, neutral, but his eyes never left hers. He could tell she was weighing each word, each gesture, the way a strategist would study a battlefield.

  Xulian nodded slightly, her long black hair brushing a shoulder. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers lightly curling, careful not to show fear, but her mind was racing. Wait, wait, I was trapped down here with a horde of little green rape demons?! What if they aren’t starter monsters like in the games? I’d be so done for!

  There was a subtle tension in the air, as if the tent itself held its breath. Sunette shifted her stance. Lilian’s hands were folded delicately in her lap, watching Xulian with a gentle smile. Cilian’s gaze, however, lingered on her eyes, noting that they were far more expressive than her face. A smile tugged his lips at this peculiarity.

  Finally, Xulian tilted her chin slightly, as if accepting the light warmth filtering from the lantern. “I… suppose we should speak. You have questions, I have questions… strange as they are.” Her tone was even, her posture still rigid, but there was a subtle invitation in the way she leaned just a fraction closer.

  Lilian inclined her head, voice gentle. “We’d like to understand… who you are, where you came from, and how you ended up in the dungeon. But I figure you mostly don’t remember much.”

  Xulian’s eyes flicked toward the small bundle on the table—Cilian had set it there after carrying her sword in. For a moment, she allowed herself a faint internal quirk of a smile. The respect she’d shown the sword had been instinctive, yet she hadn’t expected any acknowledgment in return. Yet here, they seemed genuinely intrigued, even cautious. Perhaps she could… gauge them safely.

  “I am… from far away, I guess,” she said simply, with a slight, imperceptible frown, voice careful. “I have… gaps in my memory. Some things are… unclear to me. That is all I can say for now.”

  The words were minimal, cautious, and designed to placate. Lilian’s expression softened slightly, misreading the elegant posture as the natural grace of a noble young lady in a very difficult situation. Cilian, however, remained silent, noting the precision in her movements—the controlled grace of someone groomed from youth to perfection, but never allowed the freedom others might take for granted. And the distinct caution of someone afraid of making even a single mistake.

  Sunette, for her part, simply nodded, still gripping her weapon but relaxing slightly.

  Cilian finally spoke, voice low and thoughtful. “You handle yourself with discipline… even after a day unconscious. That is… remarkable.”

  Xulian’s gaze flicked to him briefly and narrowed. “The way of the sword starts with discipline.” Her words carried weight, subtle yet firm, as she stated a line from a novel, glaring at him with caution. I won’t fall for those words nor that face, so stop spouting nonsense.

  Cilian shifted uncomfortably, yet his interest deepened—not in suspicion, but in curiosity. A swordsman’s instinct told him that this girl, despite her youth, had endured training beyond her apparent age. There was a history in her posture, a story in the elegance she did not even consciously perform. He had just witnessed her farewell to a blade that had meant something to her.

  He wondered what other surprises lay hidden behind those green eyes, smiling faintly, hoping to see how well she would grow.

  Suddenly, another figure entered the tent in a rush. She glanced apologetically to Xulian, then straightened, looking at Cilian. “Your Highness, we have a situation back at the main force. A message has arrived,” Vel stated, the elf rigid, concern marring her face.