After some light conversation, Thereon suddenly stood up and strode over to a patch of solid grass beyond the gravel. Albrecht nervously followed him, thinking that there might be bandits or a monster.

  "Let me show you something," Thereon said, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.

  Before Albrecht could ask, Thereon raised his blade—and drove it straight into the ground.

  A pulse of invisible force rippled outward—Albrecht felt it before he saw it. The air grew dense, and with a deep rumble, the ground split open around the sword's edge.

  A narrow but incredibly deep fissure tore into the ground, cutting straight down into the earth like a knife through butter. It had to be at least 30 meters (100ft) deep. Albrecht couldn't even see the bottom.

  "What the hell…?" he muttered, taking a cautious step back.

  Thereon, completely unbothered, withdrew his sword and instead raised his hand above the hole. A few seconds passed.

  Then, a stream of crystal-clear water surged upward from the depths, curling unnaturally through the air and hovering just beneath Thereon's palm.

  "Albrecht, open your mouth," Thereon said, grinning.

  "Wait—what?"

  Before Albrecht could properly protest, the stream lunged at him.

  A high-pressure blast of water slammed into his face, flooding his mouth and nearly knocking him over.

  'Can this be considered as… waterboarding?' he thought, choking slightly as he tried to breathe.

  After a few torturous seconds, the stream slowed, adjusting its pressure. It now hovered in the air like a tame ribbon, gently flowing into Albrecht's mouth at a much more drinkable pace.

  He coughed a few times, finally catching his breath.

  'At least I'm no longer thirsty…' he thought, glaring up at Thereon with dripping hair and zero dignity left.

  "Next time, just hand me a damn cup," Albrecht muttered, wiping his face.

  Thereon laughed, which made him nearly choke on the same water he'd conjured. He coughed once, then grinned like it had all gone exactly according to plan.

  After they were done, the water stream scattered into droplets that fell like mist, vanishing into the dirt. The last of it hit the ground with a gentle splash, leaving only a damp circle around the still-warm fissure.

  "You act very unfitting of your age, to say the least," Albrecht told Thereon, but the old man just waved his hand dismissively.

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  After all of that, they finally went to sleep.

  Albrecht drifted off the moment his body touched the gravel-covered warmth, exhaustion finally dragging him under.

  The fire beneath the earth had cooled to a steady heat. It certainly wasn't that comfortable, but at least he felt warm. And for the first time that day, he felt… still.

  But that stillness didn't last. In his dream, he was back in Vaelmont, watching a man.

  That man and his family stood out in the crowd since they had darker skin than the rest of the people, so Albrecht could follow him with ease.

  Even though he didnt know why he was following him, wasn't this just a man spending a day with his family?

  He held the hand of a young girl on his left—Albrecht guessed she was around fifteen. On the girl's other side, she clutched the hand of a woman. Most likely, her mother.

  The girl walked between them, holding both their hands, the perfect scene of a happy family.

  From behind, Albrecht could only make out her long, dark brown hair and youthful frame, but it was enough to remind him of his sister.

  Then, they suddenly stopped. The man gently slipped his hand from his daughter's grasp.

  When the man turned around, the sight made Albrecht freeze.

  In an instant, his simple traveler's clothes were gone, replaced by dark, militaristic armor, battered and scarred. It was the same armor Albrecht had seen up close in battle.

  Clutched in the man's hand was a thick, iron mace—its spiked head stained a dull, rusty red. But it wasn't only the weapon or the armor that made Albrecht freeze.

  It was the man's eyes.

  They were uncertain—just as they had been during the fight. At the time, Albrecht had assumed the hesitation was because of Thereon's Authority holding the man back. But now… now he understood.

  That wasn't the only thing that had caused the pause in his strikes. The stiffness in his movements. And the glances toward his companion.

  Albrecht was looking into the eyes of a man who didn't want to kill. He was seeing a man with fear in his heart.

  In those eyes, Albrecht didn't see a monster. Instead, he saw a father and a husband—someone who hadn't yet crossed the line.

  Albrecht was no longer watching the man. He was no longer in Vaelmont at all.

  Instead, he found himself standing apart—like a spectator in a dimly lit cinema, watching it all unfold from afar. There was a glowing image in front of him. Like a projection on a massive screen, the memory played out with eerie clarity.

  There was the man, standing still, mace in hand. The weight of hesitation still lingered in his stance.

  And there, across from them, stood Albrecht with Thereons sword in hand. Shoulders tensed. Breathing uneven. Eyes burning not with hatred but endless determination. It was the determination to kill someone.

  Albrecht—the version of himself in the memory—rushed forward. He tried to speak, to call out to the version of himself he was watching. To tell him to stop. To wait. To try talking to the man. But no sound came.

  Instead, the man collapsed. The strike wasn't clean. It wasn't trained or precise. It was desperate. Brutal. Messy.

  The little girl turned around, running toward him. She dropped to her knees beside the body, her small hands grabbing at his arm, at his shoulder, shaking him like he was simply asleep.

  Albrecht saw her face clearly now. It was his sister's face.

  Same age. Same long, chestnut-brown hair. The same tearful, trembling expression he remembered from the time their parents died.

  The girl sobbed, her small frame shaking as she pressed her hands against the blood-soaked armor, trying to wake him. The man gurgled once, maybe twice. A wet, choking sound. Then silence.

  The Albrecht from the scene turned away. Shoulders rigid. Face pale.

  He didn't look back.