Morning sunlight crept through the windows of the Hearth of Flavor.
And then—
GWROOOOAAARGH.
Borgas’ stomach roared so loudly the floorboards trembled.
Kael shot upright on the top bunk. “Enemy attack?!”
Eryn, who had fallen asleep on a stack of notes, groaned.
“No… just Borgas’ hunger… again…”
From the kitchen, Dael yelled,
“IF YOU BREAK THAT BED, YOU PAY FOR IT!”
Yava was already awake.
He stood by the open window, eyes closed, breathing quietly as the morning light brushed against him. Only then did the trio really see him.
He wasn’t tall or imposing—just a calm figure wrapped in white.
His snow-white hair caught the light softly, short and slightly messy, framing a refined oriental face. His hanfu flowed gently around him, white with sky-blue gradients trailing down the sleeves, held by a golden sash.
He looked less like a merchant and more like a wandering scholar.
But then the light hit his eyes.
Dark irises shimmered with faint starlight—
Galaxy Eyes, people whispered.
Not glowing. Not threatening.
Just impossibly deep.
The trio stared in silence.
Kael whispered, “Why does he look like he stepped out of a painting?”
Eryn adjusted his glasses. “The symmetry… it’s illegal.”
Borgas blinked slowly. “His hair looks soft.”
Yava opened his eyes.
“Good morning. Training starts in three minutes.”
The trio screamed in unison:
“WHAT?! WE JUST WOKE UP!”
Training Begins
Outside, the morning air was cool and fresh.
Yava stood barefoot on the dirt yard behind the inn.
The trio lined up before him, wobbling like newborn deer.
“Lesson one,” Yava said, hands behind his back.
“A strong physical body shapes the best outcome.
Authority begins with the body.
A stable stance. Controlled breath. Balanced step.”
Kael immediately threw a punch, "Haa..!!"
“Don’t punch,” Yava said.
Eryn overanalyzed his footing, froze, and toppled sideways.
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“Don’t overthink.”
Borgas copied Kael and punched the air.
He then got a smack on his back from Yava.
He faceplanted instantly.
Yava sighed.
“….”
Dael watched from inside the kitchen, grinning.
“You’re doing great! Don’t die!”
The trio glared at him.
AETHERIAN CARTOGRAPHY (The Eightfold World)
After training—and after nearly collapsing—the group gathered for breakfast inside the inn.
When the last bowl was emptied, Yava unfurled a weathered parchment across the table.
Its corners were torn, some ink faded, and several regions had tiny handwritten corrections.
“Aetherra,” Yava said, tapping the parchment,
“is far larger than most people realize.
Eight continents—each with its own pride, trouble, and… legacies.”
The trio leaned in.
ERYNDOR
Yava pointed to the west, tracing a wide cape-shaped land surrounded by deep bays and strong tides.
“This is Eryndor—the Kingdom of Storms.”
Kael’s eyes widened. “Storms sound fun.”
“Not when you’re fishing,” Dael muttered.
Yava continued,
“Eryndor’s geography—its crescent coastline and fierce currents—naturally shaped it into a naval powerhouse. Their fleets are unmatched, and their marines are disciplined, not reckless.”
Eryn blinked. “Then why is it called the Kingdom of Storms?”
“Because Serath trained here,” Yava replied.
“His presence alone shaped the kingdom’s naval doctrine.
But he never summons storms carelessly. He has restraint—always.”
A brief, respectful silence passed.
MERCURION
Yava slid his finger across the parchment, stopping at a continent shaped like a rising fang.
“Mercurion.
A land where strength decides survival.
My birthplace.”
The trio gasped.
Eryn whispered, “So Yava’s from the land of muscleheads…?”
Yava inhaled slowly—but did not deny or confirm it directly.
“A harsh land,” he said.
“But strength is not only muscle.
Technique, tactics, wealth, and connection—
all of these shape your power.
Lesson two:
Power does not always come from muscle.
It is an accumulation of who you are… and who you choose to become.”
Kael, Borgas, and even Eryn stood a little straighter.
VELORIA
Yava gestured to the northeast—mist-drawn mountains and shimmering valleys.
“Veloria, the Arcane Dominion.
A land of mages, researchers, and Authority theorists.”
Dael added,
“Rumor says the Divine Scientist left many relics there.
Some people claim he still wanders… disguised and unpredictable.”
Yava nodded.
“He sees the world differently from us.”
ALBION
He traced a continent divided into multi-colored territories.
“Albion.
A republic of humans, elves, dwarves, beastkin, and more.
Their strength lies in unity and debate.”
Kael shivered. “Debate sounds scary.”
“Correct,” Yava said.
Eryn snorted.
“It is said the Divine Architect once built a city here,” Yava continued,
“and might still hide among the people… behind many masks.”
SOLMERE
At the center, peaceful plains and rivers.
“Solmere.
The heartland of harvest.”
Borgas raised his hand. “Does the Divine Farmer grow pastries?”
Yava smiled.
“He nurtures life itself. Pastries… perhaps included.”
DROMEK
Yava’s fingertip moved southwest, across ragged, ember-colored shapes.
“Dromek.
A volcanic land of clans, dwarves, beastkin, and creatures forged by fire.”
Kael grinned. “Sounds like Kael-land.”
“No,” Eryn corrected. “That’s why it’s dangerous.”
THE SOUTHERN ARCHIPELAGO
Yava swept his hand across small island dots scattered across deep blue.
“The Southern Archipelago.
Stormy seas. Wandering fleets. Pirate republics.”
Dael smirked.
“Serath liked it there in his youth.
Too much rum. Too many storms.”
AEGITHRA
Finally, Yava tapped the cold north.
“Aegithra.
Frozen. Silent. Aurora-lit.”
He paused.
“Even I have not traveled there long.”
Kael shivered just looking at the map.
Borgas ate another pastry in fear.
Yava rolled up the parchment gently.
“For now,” he said,
“knowing their names is enough.
Understanding them comes later.”
A breeze slipped through the open window, carrying the scent of pine and distant roads.
“Aetherra is vast,” Yava murmured.
“But we will walk it… one step at a time.”
“One does not simply walk across Aetherra,” Dael muttered.
The trio laughed—
even Eryn, who tried very hard not to smile.
