Adrian stood at the edge of the hill, his eyes locked on the scene below.

  A human was fighting a monster.

  He moved instantly.

  Leaping from the hill, Adrian dropped straight down toward the battlefield. He bent his knees just before nding, killing both sound and momentum. The impact was silent. Neither the man nor the monster sensed him — not through sound, and not through mana.

  Adrian cked circuting mana.

  That absence made him invisible.

  He looked up.

  The creature was small, green-skinned, hunched forward with crude muscle and sharp teeth.

  Adrian frowned.

  "Wait… is that a goblin?"

  His gaze shifted to the man — battered, breathing hard, movements sluggish.

  "…And he's losing to something this weak?"

  Steel cshed against cw. The man stumbled back, his sword shaking. The goblin pressed forward relentlessly, adapting to every sloppy swing.

  Moments ter, the man dropped to one knee.

  Adrian exhaled slowly.

  He assessed the situation.

  If I let him die… I'll never find civilization.

  The conclusion was immediate.

  Adrian began walking forward.

  The goblin's eyes snapped toward him first.

  Its gaze locked onto Adrian's silhouette.

  Adrian ignored it.

  He passed the goblin's line of attack without haste and stopped beside the kneeling man. Without acknowledging him, Adrian reached down and pulled the sword that had been pnted into the ground.

  He weighed it once in his hand.

  Then casually rested it on his shoulder.

  "Can I borrow this?"

  The man's eyes widened.

  "W–Wait! Be careful!" he shouted. "If you fight it too long, it adapts — it steals your movements!"

  Adrian turned his head slightly, just enough to look back.

  "Oh."

  A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  "So I should end this in one blow."

  He shifted his stance.

  "Thanks for the information."

  Adrian smiled.

  It wasn't wide. It wasn't manic.

  Just rexed — almost bored.

  He held the bde loosely, one hand resting on the hilt as if he wasn't even preparing to strike. His posture screamed carelessness.

  The goblin didn't hesitate.

  With a shrill snarl, it lunged.

  In the same instant—

  Adrian was gone.

  No burst of sound.

  No fsh of mana.

  No wasted motion.

  He was already behind it.

  Calm as ever.

  The goblin froze, shock rippling through its body as it twisted its head around—

  —and then its body came apart.

  Not in one cut.

  In dozens.

  So many sshes overpped that the eye couldn't track them. The goblin's torso separated into uneven sections, its limbs shearing off a fraction of a second ter. The dey sted just long enough for the realization to register.

  Then it exploded.

  Blood sprayed outward in a violent arc, organs and flesh colpsing into a steaming puddle at Adrian's feet. The remains hit the ground with wet, heavy sounds.

  Silence followed.

  Adrian flicked the bde once, shaking the blood from it.

  He turned and walked back toward the man.

  The human was still on his knees, staring at the space where the goblin had been, his mouth slightly open. His breathing was shallow, his hands trembling.

  Adrian crouched directly in front of him, bringing his face level with the man's eyes.

  Up close, his expression was casual. Friendly, even.

  "Hey," Adrian said. "I've got a couple of questions."

  The man swallowed.

  "Q–Question one," Adrian continued. "Who are you?"

  The man hesitated for half a second, then answered honestly.

  "My name is Archer Ziva."

  Archer stared at Adrian for a long moment, sword still half-raised. "I am Lord Archer Ziva of the Aurelion Imperium Empire," he said carefully.

  Adrian tilted his head slightly. "A lord. So what rank is that?"

  Archer blinked. "Lord is the rank."

  Adrian's expression didn't change, but something shifted behind his eyes. "Oh. So that's your rank. I didn't think 'lord' was actually a rank."

  Both of them noticed the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in fading orange and deep purple. Adrian stood smoothly. "Follow me if you want a pce to sleep tonight."

  Without waiting for an answer, he turned and leaped up the hill in a single fluid motion, nding lightly near the small shelter he had built over the past months. What had started as a crude pile of branches and leaves had slowly taken shape into something resembling a house — simple, sturdy, hidden.

  He started a fire with practiced ease, the fmes crackling as night settled in. Archer hesitated only a second before sitting across from him.

  They sat in awkward silence for several minutes, the fire popping between them. Finally, Archer broke it.

  "Due to the commotion earlier, I forgot to ask your name."

  Adrian poked at the fire with a stick. "Oh. My name is Adrian Bckwell."

  Archer's eyes widened. "Bckwell? So you're part of nobility?"

  Adrian gnced at him. "Why do you say that?"

  "You have a st name," Archer said. "Most commoners only have one. Having a st name usually means you're part of nobility."

  Adrian looked into the fmes. In his mind he thought: I can't tell him I'm not from here.

  After a brief pause he answered calmly, "No. It was just my mother. She gave me the st name."

  Archer nodded slowly, accepting the answer. Then he leaned forward slightly. "Enough questioning me. Now I have a couple of questions for you. First — what are you doing here, and how long have you been here?"

  Adrian met his gaze evenly. "I've been here for six months. I got lost."

  He let the words hang for a moment before continuing, voice low and matter-of-fact. "Just to get this out the way, I will say this once: I am a vilin."

  Archer jerked back, hand snapping to the hilt of his sword. His eyes were wide, breath catching.

  Adrian raised one hand slowly — palm open, fingers rexed — never breaking eye contact.

  "Calm down," he said, voice low but steady. "Don't draw your bde."

  Archer's grip tightened, but he didn't pull yet.

  Adrian leaned forward just a fraction, elbows on knees, firelight carving sharp shadows across his face.

  "Although I said I'm a vilin," he continued, each word deliberate and unhurried, "my hands are clean. I've never killed a person in my life."

  Archer blinked, confusion cutting through the fear. "Then why—"

  Adrian cut him off gently, tone almost patient.

  "Vilin just means I do things that will be considered vilinous. That's all."

  He let the words settle, then nodded toward Archer's trembling form.

  "Right now you are weakened. And in this situation…" — a small, almost apologetic tilt of his head — "…I'm stronger than you. Because you're weakened."

  Archer swallowed hard. His fingers twitched once on the hilt, then slowly — very slowly — rexed.

  Adrian's gaze never wavered, but his voice softened a notch further.

  "On another matter… can you not use healing magic?"

  Archer stiffened again.

  Adrian raised an eyebrow, casual.

  "I understand you sustained injuries during your fight with the goblin, but can you not hear yourself? You're breathing like you're about to pass out. Don't push it."

  He leaned back slightly, giving Archer space.

  "I'm getting sidetracked," Adrian muttered, more to himself than anything. "So don't try it."

  A beat of silence. The fire crackled.

  Adrian met Archer's eyes once more — direct, unflinching, but without threat.

  "What I need is stable employment. And I can live my life."

  He didn't eborate. Didn't beg. Didn't threaten.

  He simply stated the fact, the same way he might comment on the weather.

  Archer stared at him — at the teenage face that somehow carried the weight of someone far older, at the complete ck of fear or arrogance, at the quiet certainty that this boy could have ended him three times already and hadn't.

  The sword stayed sheathed.

  The fire kept burning.

  And somewhere in the silence between them, the first thread of uneasy trust began to form.

  Adrian leaned back on his hands, the firelight dancing across his face as he watched Archer carefully.

  "About my employment situation," he said, voice even and matter-of-fact. "Because you need help right now, don't you? Whatever you're doing, you can just hire me. I'll help you."

  Archer's brow furrowed, suspicion fring again.

  "You said your hands are clean. You didn't kill anything… but you killed the goblin without hesitation."

  Adrian gave a small, almost zy nod.

  "I got it. Listen, human—" He paused, letting the word hang for just a second before continuing in a calm, almost amused tone. "In the words of a great man himself… Goblin Syer… all goblins must die."

  He shrugged one shoulder, the gesture casual, almost careless.

  "That brings me back to my initial thinking. If it's human, I won't kill it. If it's not… I will."

  Archer stared at him for a long moment, fingers flexing once on the hilt. Then — slowly — he let go of the sword completely. The bde settled back against his thigh.

  "Okay," Archer said quietly. "You're hired."

  Adrian's expression didn't change, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

  "Great. So… exactly what are you doing here in my territory?"

  Archer exhaled through his nose, gncing toward the darkening woods before answering.

  "Goblins have been going to the nearby vilges and taking women. So as the lord, I had to respond. I didn't have enough money to hire adventurers."

  Adrian smiled — small, sharp, genuine.

  Archer continued, voice steady but tired.

  "I could not utilize my territory to hunt goblins."

  Adrian tilted his head. "Why?"

  "Because I don't have that much money to speak of. So if I take soldiers in and they end up dying… that would be a problem on my part." He met Adrian's gaze directly. "You see, I'm the lowest-rank person at the bottom. Being a lord… you're the lowest of nobility."

  Adrian let out a soft, almost disbelieving ugh under his breath.

  "So instead of wasting money giving yourself a fighting chance, you decided to come here alone and get beaten up by one goblin?"

  Archer's jaw tightened.

  "It wasn't one. I at least killed over a hundred of them. But that one… it adapted to my fighting style. Started using it on me."

  The fire crackled between them.

  Adrian watched him for a long second, then nodded once — slowly, like he was filing the information away.

  "Interesting."

  He didn't eborate.

  They y down on opposite sides of the fire.

  Archer had intended to sleep — or at least pretend to.

  Adrian had made it clear he wasn't a threat… yet trust was a long way from being earned.

  Both of them closed their eyes.

  But neither actually slept.

  Archer y on his back, sword within arm's reach, ears tuned to every crack of the fire and rustle of leaves.

  Adrian y on his side, facing the fmes, breathing slow and even — but his eyes were open, thin slits reflecting the dying embers.

  Hours passed.

  The fire dwindled to glowing coals.

  The night grew colder.

  The stars wheeled overhead.

  Neither moved.

  Neither spoke.

  Both stayed awake — wide-eyed in the dark, watching shadows that weren't there, listening for the sound of betrayal that never came.

  When the first gray light of dawn crept over the horizon, both of them were still staring.

  Exhausted.

  Tense.

  Alive.

  Trust had not been built tonight.

  But neither had died trying to force it.

  Archer exhaled slowly, sitting up first.

  Adrian rose a second ter, stretching once as if he'd slept perfectly.

  Neither acknowledged the sleepless night.

  The fire was ash.