Xanthia was still studying the medallion when several sets of footsteps crunched toward the house.

  While Xanthia pocketed the broken medallion, I stole a glance through the window—a new hole crudely knocked into the stone, fitted with a rough-hewn wooden frame—evidence of the craftsmen who had worked to transform this warehouse into a home.

  Two more windows had been cut into the opposite wall, their heavy shutters currently latched against the biting morning chill.

  It was Ol' Lucia, accompanied by several men and carts of supplies, but there was no sign of Thomas.

  The winter wind swept deep into the hall the moment I pulled the heavy door open, chilling me to the bone.

  Under Lucia's direction, the men began unloading crates into the common hall.

  I saw Fiorella dash behind Millie at the sight of the strangers, I spoke up:

  "Julian and I can handle the heavy lifting. Why don't you girls take a break upstairs?"

  As the crates piled up, I noticed a stack of firewood—the one thing we needed most.

  Our caregiver was truly formidable.

  Looking over the supplies, Ol' Lucia let out a heavy sigh, a mixture of relief and sheer exhaustion.

  "This should be everything," she muttered.

  We sorted through the goods—clothes, rugs, tableware, and cookware. But the food held my attention. I sifted through the heavy bags, breathing in the clean, grassy aroma—fresh fall harvest, a welcome change from the dull, aged grain we usually ate.

  With a supply this size, we wouldn't just survive the winter; we could savour hearty, fresh meals. Thomas would be overjoyed to see this. The thought put a small, rare smile on my face.

  Ol' Lucia sat at the large table, rubbing her temples, eyes closed. Near the bright window, Millie scrutinized moth-eaten rugs and clothes, checking seams and sniffing fabric.

  "Patch the torn parts, then wash…" she muttered, already planning.

  "Where's Thomas, Lucia?" Fiorella asked, clinging to her arm.

  "He went off to play again?" Julian guessed, grunting as he carried stacks of firewood into the small storage room beside the kitchen.

  "He was taken to the Hunter Guild," Ol' Lucia said softly, her hand gently stroking Fiorella's silver-white hair. "He's become an apprentice hunter."

  The room went still. We froze, turning to her all at once.

  "Isn't he a bit too young for that?" Millie asked. She stopped her work, tugging at a loose thread on a garment while her other hand scratched at her head in nervous habit.

  "It's not necessarily a bad thing, right?" I said, though I could feel the warmth of the fresh grain fading as worry crept into my voice.

  Thomas had always admired the Master Hunters—this was probably a dream come true for him.

  "He'll be fine. The Hunter Guild of Delmar is reputable."

  Ol' Lucia said, lowering her head.

  "…But he'll have to stay in the guild quarters from now on, for proper training."

  Silence settled over us.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackling of wood in the hearth.

  ??????????

  We had a late lunch in the centre of the common hall, where the dining table now stood like a lonely island in the vast space.

  A big clay cookpot sat at the centre of the table as Ol' Lucia filled our bowls with meaty stew.

  Several times, I turned to my left out of habit—only to find an empty seat.

  Ol' Lucia filled one bowl more than necessary.

  I stared blankly at the extra bowl. Thomas was learning from Master Hunters now—real training, real techniques.

  The gap between us and Hailstorm wasn't just skill—it was knowledge. Systems. Resources.

  Thomas would close that gap faster now. And me? I'd fall behind if I didn't move.

  Xanthia nudged me with her elbow, pulling me back from my thoughts.

  It was quieter than usual, and we all knew why.

  There was more meat than normal, thanks to the oversupply of moss-hoppers, yet the stew tasted bland.

  I emptied the bowl with a restless mind, barely noticing the warmth in my hands.

  "…I'll wash the dishes." Across the table, Millie stood, her whole posture slumped. Even her pigtails seemed to droop.

  "…Me too," Julian added softly beside her, head bowed.

  CLANK.

  A ladle struck the rim of the pot.

  The sharp sound cut through the heavy silence, echoing in the cavernous room.

  Everyone turned.

  "Sit," Ol’ Lucia said from the head of the table. "There's still much to talk about."

  Her gaze softened as it settled on me.

  "Allen, you can apply for an apprenticeship at the Hunter Guild—just like Thomas. Don't let this chance slip by. Ride the wave while people still look upon you children with such awe and glory. The standards are high, but they won't easily turn away the boy who claimed a giant's eye."

  My heart raced as I listened, eyes closed. Watching the elites fight up close had stirred something deep within me. I longed to hone my skills, to grow stronger—to protect my friends.

  Becoming an apprentice meant no more blind training—no more stumbling down the wrong path. I'd enter a structured system built for efficiency.

  It wasn't just about mastering the sling anymore; I'd have the chance to branch out into archery, swordsmanship, and the art of setting traps.

  Beyond the skills, the Guild offered what odd jobs never could—professional equipment, advanced techniques, and the financial stability we desperately needed.

  Yet, for all the stability it promised, it felt like a gilded cage.

  Staying in the guild quarters meant my time was no longer my own. I would lose the ability to drop everything and meet my friends—replaced by the strict demands of an apprentice's life.

  I snapped my eyes open.

  Fiorella was tearing up in silence next to Millie, clutching Lala so tightly that one of the doll's limbs had begun to tear.

  Julian and Millie averted their gazes, refusing to influence my decision.

  Even Xanthia's usual calm had cracked—her jaw was tight, nails digging into her palms.

  I hesitated.

  A trained hunter in the guild quarters, or an amateur by their side?

  Strength through distance, or weakness through presence?

  Ol' Lucia's wrinkled face warped into a faint smile.

  "You're always thinking and analysing, Allen. Sometimes you overdo it," she said gently.

  "But this concerns your future. Take the time to agonize over it before making your final choice." She paused.

  "I should also remind you—the Hunter Guild may not even accept your application."

  I bit my lip and nodded.

  She then turned to Julian.

  I half-expected her to offer him the same measured advice, but to our surprise, her expression shifted.

  "Julian, I suspect this has completely slipped your mind, given the chaos."

  She sighed. "Aren't you meant to participate in the Coming-of-Age Ceremony this year? I spoke with Nolan yesterday. With the three stars nearly aligned, the ceremony is almost upon us."

  She paused. "Are you prepared?"

  Julian froze.

  The look on his face was one of sudden, unmistakable realization.

  The ceremony was held alongside Leviafest for those aged fifteen and above—a ritual of trials meant to prove one's maturity and mark the transition into adulthood.

  SMACK!

  "Ouch! What's the matter with you, Millie?!"

  Julian snapped upright, his posture straightening instantly from the sting in his back.

  Millie stood there, her arm still swinging from the force of the slap she'd landed.

  "Get it together!" she scowled.

  "Go out there and show everyone what you're made of!"

  Then she turned to Fiorella, whose face was smeared with tears and snot.

  "Let's go wash your face, Fio. I'll fix Lala for you later."

  She gave Fiorella's shoulders a gentle squeeze. Together, they headed toward the stone basin in the kitchen nook.

  Millie and Fiorella left the hall.

  I leaned closer to Lucia. "Did you know anything about the moss-hopper disaster?"

  Both Julian and Xanthia leaned closer, curious.

  Ol' Lucia looked into our eyes, unsurprised—probably half expected us to ask her. "The long answer—we don't have time before Fio comes back." She lowered her voice. "The short answer? A trick of the ancient powers. A rare event, but it happens all over the world. Just our luck." She smiled wryly.

  "That giantess?" Julian asked hesitantly.

  Lucia's expression darkened.

  "Some doors should stay frozen," she said. "What you saw was never meant for mortal eyes. The runestones paid the price—shattered, spent. Be grateful we survived."

  Her gaze hardened.

  "And never speak of it again. Not to anyone."