The familiar darkness of the capsule dissolved into warm lanternlight and the earthy scent of roasted meat. Null blinked, adjusting quickly to the firelit comfort of his room at the Stout Anvil Inn. His in-game body always felt sharper, lighter, more responsive than his real one. Rested, focused, ready.

  He expected to head straight for the Heart Forge.

  Instead, he found Eins and Zwei waiting for him downstairs in the common room: a hulking Dwarf and a poised, silver-haired Elf sharing a plate of sausages as if they were longtime drinking partners rather than walking contradictions. A few patrons stared—Dwarves and Elves sitting together so casually was rare enough to be gossip-worthy.

  “There you are, lad,” Eins called, waving him over. “Forge is no place for quiet talk. Sit.”

  Null slid into the empty seat. Zwei gave him a polite nod, but there was a flicker—just a breath—of something unreadable in the Elf’s expression. The same sharp recognition he’d shown during their first meeting. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

  A serving girl hurried over to take Null’s order. While they waited, Eins unrolled a thick leather map on the table. Ancient ink. Creased highways. Notes written in a Dwarf’s heavy script.

  “Now,” Eins began, tapping the map with a calloused finger, “to reach the East, we must cross half the Iron Concordance. Ravines, waystations, a few border towns. It’s a long road, and with our levels reset, we’d be idiots to travel alone.”

  Null leaned closer, tracing the marked route. It wound through several settlements he vaguely remembered from promotional videos—Sunstone Crossing, Stonefall, Ironpeak.

  Eins continued, “We’ll take on an escort contract. Travel with a caravan. Company for the road, coin for the pocket, and a perfect excuse to move without drawing too much attention.”

  Zwei brightened immediately. “A caravan! It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper road under my boots. A splendid idea.”

  Null nodded. “Makes sense. Safety in numbers.”

  “And experience for you,” Eins added. “There’s a world of difference between fighting cave crawlers in tight tunnels and guarding merchants on open roads.”

  Their food arrived, and breakfast passed in easy conversation—Eins bantering gruffly, Zwei offering dry, elegant sarcasm, Null absorbing far more than he spoke. Even so, Null couldn’t shake the subtle tension in the air. Eins wasn’t just planning a journey—he was preparing for something heavier.

  After the meal, they made their way to the Adventurer’s Guild. The receptionist stiffened the moment she recognized Eins, then sprinted into the back office without a word.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Moments later, Thoric—the Guild Master—burst out in a thunder of red beard and booming laughter.

  “Eins, you stubborn old mule! Heard you’ve gone soft, hammerin’ butter knives for children!”

  “And I heard you still can’t read a balance sheet,” Eins shot back, clasping Thoric’s arm in a bone-cracking handshake.

  Thoric ushered them into his meeting office, a room drowning in maps, contracts, and half-written reports.

  “What brings you here? A man like you doesn’t come for simple work.”

  “We need to reach the eastern border,” Eins said plainly. “Preferably with a caravan.”

  Thoric hummed, scanning the map on his wall. “Fortune’s on your side. A merchant caravan leaves this morning for Ironpeak. Bastian’s his name. Needs guards. Valuable goods.”

  He called for his secretary, who fetched the merchant and the two adventurers already attached to the contract.

  Bastian entered first—a round-bellied human who looked like nerves wrapped in silk. Behind him came a tall woman in full plate armor and a lynx-featured Beastman with quick, sharp eyes.

  Thoric gestured broadly. “Bastian, today you are blessed. Master Eins and Master Zwei will escort your caravan. And this is Null—their associate.”

  Bastian nearly wept in relief. The warrior woman, however, studied Null with a colder, more professional eye. She took in his simple leather gear, light weapon, lean build.

  “With respect,” she said, voice gravelly, “the lad doesn’t look seasoned.”

  Null stiffened, but before he could speak, Eins placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  “He learns fast,” the Dwarf said. “And he’s under my hammer now. That’s enough.”

  The warrior exchanged a look with her Beastman partner, but they said nothing more. It wasn’t wise to argue with a legend.

  “Good!” Thoric clapped. “You depart in one hour. East gate. Don’t dawdle.”

  They stepped outside into the crisp air of Volundrheim’s eastern tunnel. The gate stood open, revealing the sloping path that eventually surfaced into daylight. The caravans waiting there were already bustling with movement.

  Bastian met them beside his wagons—two sturdy, iron-reinforced constructs pulled by massive six-legged lizards with thick, stone-like scales.

  “Stoneback drakes,” the merchant explained proudly as one snorted warm steam into Null’s face. “Strong as ten oxen, gentle as kittens. Usually.”

  Zwei raised an eyebrow. “Define ‘usually.’”

  “Ahahaha… rarely,” Bastian corrected.

  Valeriana—the warrior—and Kael—the Beastman rogue—arrived shortly after, offering curt greetings. Valeriana’s earlier skepticism had softened by a fraction. Kael simply nodded in Null’s direction, his feline eyes quietly assessing.

  Eins checked their gear. Zwei tested the string of his bow. Null adjusted his leather armor, feeling the weight of purpose settle into his chest. The week of training, the mysteries surrounding Eins and Zwei, the quest from Barcus… everything was pushing him toward this road.

  Bastian climbed onto the lead wagon. “Everyone ready? Then let’s move!”

  The stoneback drakes heaved forward. Wheels clattered. The cavern air thinned as they began their ascent.

  Null cast one last look behind him—at the glowing heart of Volundrheim, the forges that had shaped his first steps in this world.

  Then he turned toward the long road east.

  Whatever waited beyond the mountains, he would face it—alongside a Dwarf with a broken past, an Elf who kept staring at him like a forgotten memory, and a path carved by a ghost who believed he could change the world.

  The first journey had begun.