Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
"I'm coming!"
Caelen opened the door in a rush. The first light of morning spilled into the room, pale and cold.
Seven barbarian warriors stood outside.
"Ah—" Caelen blinked in surprise. "How can I help you, sirs?"
"We're here to search the house," the one in front said. He was their chief, easily identified by the thicker fur on his shoulders and the slight edge in his tone.
"Huh? Is there a problem?"
"Nothing to worry about," the chief replied. Then, without waiting for permission, he stepped inside. The others followed.
Caelen frowned, but quickly masked it with a neutral look.
The warriors spread out. They weren't just looking—they were tearing through the place.
Turning over stools, shaking out folded blankets, and prying open drawers that hadn't been touched in weeks.
Caelen didn't own much, but by the time they were done, the little he had was scattered and flipped upside down.
"Everything's a bit too clean," the chief muttered, eyeing the room. "Why's that?"
Caelen straightened. "Sir, I don't know if you've ever worked a full day on the farm, but by the time I'm home, I've got nothing left in me. So I clean in the mornings. Helps me wake up."
The chief stared at him for a second, then scoffed and turned away. His expression said more than his silence—it looked down on Caelen for being weak.
Caelen didn't respond. He only glanced at his right hand, wrapped in fresh bandages, and remembered what happened the day before.
***
It was possible to conceal a crest, but it required training. Caelen's crests still needed to level up before he could hide them on his own.
He tied a cloth over his right hand as Idel watched, then the old man continued.
"I'll make sure I'm caught far from here. But once they realize I don't have the crystal fragment, they'll try to trace it.
So you can't stay. Leave after they finish searching your house. Move quietly, speak to no one."
"...I need to talk to someone first," Caelen said after a pause. "But I trust him. He won't tell anyone."
"You can't trust barbarians," Idel said sharply. "I know you grew up among them, but I've spent a lifetime fighting them."
Still, Caelen's expression didn't change. Determined. Certain.
"Sigh... If you're that sure, I won't stop you. But if you're wrong—if you're caught—this war won't just continue. It'll end with the barbarians winning."
It was a heavy burden. Something that could change the course of the war... and it rested on Caelen's shoulders now.
"One last thing. Before morning, I'll teach you three spells. Don't worry, they'll work even with your first-stage Crest of Knowledge.
But they won't be enough. You'll need someone to train you, so I'll choose the path for you—give you a place to start.
I will choose the path you need to follow before taking on this journey."
***
"Chief, there's nothing here!" one of the warriors called out. One by one, the others echoed the same.
The chief stepped up to Caelen, scowling. "I've got my eye on you," he said.
Of course, he had nothing on him. It was something he said to everyone—just to see if they'd slip up or panic.
But Caelen kept his composure, didn't react. So the chief simply said, "We're done here."
With that, the group turned and made their way to the next house.
---
Caelen was running through the woods. The road from his house to Illgorn's passed straight through the forest—but he couldn't risk using it.
Not with a packed bag on his back. If the barbarian warriors spotted him, it would be over.
So instead, he stuck to a rougher, narrower path. He needed to see the old man.
When the warriors had left his house, they hadn't bothered cleaning up. They never did. That was the homeowner's job.
But this time, it was a problem. If they returned and saw the place still in chaos, they'd realize Caelen had left in a hurry. It would look suspicious. Obvious, even.
Still, rather than waste the little time he had on cleaning, Caelen gambled they wouldn't come back right away. And used that time to visit Illgorn.
Once he got close to the house, he left his bag behind a tree and approached the door.
He wasn't going to say he was leaving immediately. Just that he'd be gone in a few days. If he said too much, it might be easy to guess he had something to do with the magus.
He knocked softly.
After a few seconds, the old man opened the door. His eyes landed on Caelen—and widened.
"You..." Illgorn said. "You activated your crest."
"What? How did you—?"
"Sigh... come in," he muttered, turning around and heading inside.
They sat across from each other.
"How did it happen?" Illgorn asked.
Caelen remembered Idel's warning and chose his words carefully. "I was training yesterday, thinking about what you wrote in that notebook.
I got angry, my heart started pounding... and then it happened. The crest lit up. Three beams."
"Three beams, huh?" Illgorn frowned. "You proud of that? That would only be impressive if you were fifteen."
He sounded irritated, but Caelen could tell the old man was pleased.
Illgorn was thinking about the notebook—probably wondering if something in it had triggered the change.
Also, he wanted to know what he thought about what the barbarians did. But since Caelen didn't seem upset, he let it go for now.
"So what?" Illgorn continued. "You want me to train you now? Just when I thought I was rid of you—"
"Ah, old man... I'm sorry, but I'll be leaving soon."
"Leaving? Why? You think you'll find a better master than me?"
"Actually, we never talked about this before... but I'm the son of Ulgaf and Svea. Taek is my master."
Illgorn barked a laugh. "Hah! That explains it. Of course you're leaving."
"No, that's not why. I'm not going to find them."
"Then what? Where are you going?" Illgorn looked genuinely confused now.
"A barbarian has to carve his own path. I won't learn from them—at least, not yet. I need to grow stronger first. Three beams, like you said, aren't enough, nor worthy."
The old man was about to retort, maybe call him a fool, but held his tongue. If this was what Caelen wanted, there was no reason to stop him.
Especially if the boy's dream had even a sliver of truth to it.
"So, why'd you come? Just to say goodbye? Didn't need to."
"Actually... I have a request."
Illgorn raised a brow.
Caelen reached into his pocket and pulled out two letters. "My parents might come here soon. Can you give these to them?"
Illgorn scoffed, but took the letters without a word. They were goodbye letters—maybe even the kind someone writes before they die. He didn't ask questions.
"Wait here," he said, disappearing into the back room—the one where he'd gotten the notebook the day before.
Caelen waited, listening to the muffled sounds of drawers opening and objects toppling over.
A few minutes later, the old man returned, holding a sword.
"Take this," Illgorn said, extending the sword toward Caelen.
"Uh... what is it?"
"A reward. It was my reward, actually. I won it from someone in a duel. He gave it to me after I beat him.
Strong fellow. So, I'm guessing the sword's quality is high. But I never used it—it's a one-handed sword."
Caelen took it carefully. The sword was just a bit longer than his arm, sheathed in white with golden ornaments along the edges.
It already looked valuable, but when he drew the blade, his breath caught.
The metal gleamed with a bluish tint even though the hilt was the same white and gold colors.
He stared at it, then looked up at Illgorn. "Old man, thank you. I'll treasure it."
"You idiot. What kind of self-respecting barbarian treasures a sword? You use it. You fight with it. That's the only way to honor a weapon, not by hugging it like it's your child."
He scowled at Caelen, but the warmth behind the words was obvious.
Caelen gave him a small smile, knowing this would be the last time for a long while. He thanked the old man once more and stepped out through the door.
Illgorn stood there, watching him go.
"As if I didn't know what you were up to all week," he muttered with a smile, then turned and went back inside.