The door slammed shut behind Oliver. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the ragged, painful breathing of the man named Thomas, who lay bleeding on the floor.

  Nora rushed to Thomas's side, pressing a thick cloth to the wound. Her hands were steady, trained by months with Alicia, but her face was tight with barely concealed panic. She started pacing back and forth beside the unconscious man, occasionally stopping to speak to the cradle.

  "It’s alright, my little sweet boy," she murmured, her voice thin. "Papa will be fine. He's the strongest man in the village. Don’t you worry."

  Vivian knew the words were meant for her own benefit. 'He's gone to fight something called a High Orc,' Vivian thought, his stomach churning with dread. 'This isn't a modern street fight. This is medieval carnage. He could be dead in minutes.'

  Lily, the kind apprentice, was not handling the fear as well as Nora. She had retreated to a shadowy corner near the herb shelves, her hands covering her face. Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs. The tall, calm young man, Pete, knelt beside her, his hand resting gently on her back, whispering assurances.

  The hut was a thick soup of fear and the metallic smell of blood.

  A short while later, the heavy door opened again. Three children, all boys around eight years old, tumbled in, laughing as they chased each other. They froze instantly when they saw the scene: the pacing Nora, the kneeling Pete, and the huge, still figure covered in dark, slick blood.

  One boy, his face turning instantly white, cried out, "Dad!"

  He rushed forward, tears streaming down his face, and in his panic, he slammed into the central worktable, sending a carefully stacked pile of dried herbs scattering across the floor. He ignored the mess and dropped to his knees beside the fallen man.

  "Father! Father, wake up! Wake up, please!"

  Thomas, who had been completely still and pale, suddenly flinched. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing glazed, pained eyes. It was a monumental effort. He lifted his head perhaps an inch off the floor, focusing entirely on the panicked face of his son.

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  "I'm... I'm okay, my baby," Thomas rasped, his voice barely a breath. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. Pete... take them away, please. Thanks, and sorry."

  As soon as Pete, his face grim, quickly herded the three terrified boys into the back room, Thomas’s head slammed back onto the floor, and he faded back into unconsciousness. The sheer, terrifying willpower he had expended just to calm his son was obvious.

  Vivian watched the whole exchange, a profound feeling settling in his gut. 'He used the last of his strength, not to cry for a healer, but to protect his boy from fear. That's a father. That's what a good man does.' A wave of fierce loyalty and gratitude for Oliver, Thomas, and the sacrifices of this world washed over him.

  Lily wiped her tears, her face drawn, and followed Pete into the back room to tend to the shocked children.

  The next hour stretched into a lifetime. The light outside began to fade, casting the hut into deep shadow. Even Alicia, standing at the worktable, grinding something with fierce, focused intensity, showed signs of worry. Her hands moved faster than necessary, and her lips were pressed into a thin, white line.

  Then, they heard a shout from outside. Oliver's shout.

  Nora bolted to the door. "Oliver! Are you—"

  Her relief immediately turned to fury. "You idiot! Don't you dare rush off like that again! Are you hurt? Did you go alone? You are going to be in so much trouble when we get home!"

  Oliver staggered in, not alone, but carrying a much larger man across his shoulders. He was covered in more blood, sweat, and grime. He set the wounded man gently on the floor beside Thomas.

  "High Orc," Oliver panted, rushing to Alicia. "Three regulars, one High. That one... that's my friend, Elias. His arm, Alicia. It's hanging off. Can you... can you save it?"

  Alicia went immediately to Elias, her hands flying over the grave injury. She confirmed the damage. "It will be expensive, Oliver. And time-consuming. You were barely enough to stall a High Orc until the others arrived?"

  "Barely," Oliver confirmed, rubbing his knuckles. "I broke the good axe on its armor. I'll have to use the old one for a while. The others are fine. They stayed to make sure nothing else was coming."

  Alicia reassured him that she could save the arm. Nora, her fury now gone and replaced with exhaustion and relief, pulled Oliver into a tight hug.

  "Go home, my love," she whispered to Oliver. "Take Vivian. It's getting dark, and I need to stay and help Alicia. Go get some rest."

  Oliver carried Vivian home in the twilight. He was completely unaware of the baby's inner turmoil.

  Vivian was terrified. Oliver's best friend was almost dead. Oliver had broken his axe fighting a High Orc. This world was not a cozy fantasy; it was a brutal, medieval meat grinder where life was cheap and death was easy.

  'I curse you, Gabriel! Why did you send me to a world where my father could be killed by a smelly beast? I hate this! I hate this so much!' Vivian raged internally, shaking slightly in Oliver’s arms.

  Oliver, however, was in high spirits. He bounced Vivian gently as he talked, his voice full of hunter pride.

  "Best news, little man! We got the High Orc and the regulars! That means so much meat for Nora’s smoker. The High Orc will give us enough hide for a new blanket for you and your Mama, and the meat will make winter so much easier! It was a good day, a great day!"

  Vivian listened to his father's excited mumblings about cured orc flank and insulated hides, a chilling realization sinking in: Oliver saw a near-death experience as a chance for better winter stocks. Oliver was excited. Vivian was simply terrified—not for Oliver, but for himself. If Oliver died, Vivian would be alone and helpless.

  His fear intensified his resolve a hundredfold. He had to learn magic. He had to be powerful.

  Exhausted by the day's overwhelming emotion, Vivian eventually drifted off to sleep, the last sound he heard being the crunch of Oliver's boots on the dirt road.