He quickened his pace.

Across the fields and past the farms he ran, breathing in the cool and fresh air, savouring their taste. The first human since his return! The first house since his return! The first shop!

He reached the front of his home. "I've missed this place!" Clay yelled as he swung open the door. Crash! Huh?

The door has been torn down. Not just simply torn down, but forcefully ripped out from its hinges. "What is happening? First I tore my top, now my door is broken?"

A scream and a crash came from within the house, so he walked inside to check it out. There, at the centre of the kitchen, stood an unfamiliar woman. She was stirring a bubbling pot, the savoury scent of stew filling the air and seeping into Clay's nostrils. She was staring at Clay like an unwanted visitor, a ghost haunting her. "Honey! Someone broke into the house!" she screamed.

Footsteps came thundering down the wooden stairs, and a tall man appeared, dressed in a tunic that hung loosely on his frame, his hair tousled and unkempt. "What's happened?" he asked groggy and laced with irritation as he yawned.

"Who are you?" Clay stammered, confusion washing over him. "What are you doing in my house?"

"Your house?" the man scoffed. "This is our home. We paid a fair amount to purchase this house from the auctiona couple of months ago. I should be asking who you are, young man! Breaking into our home and destroying our front door!"

Clay looked around. The interior does look completely different. New decorations, plants, pots. Even the house has completely changed–new walls, polished flooring.

Tears almost came spewing out from his eyes. "I've lived here my whole life. I returned because I thought... I thought... But this? This is unreal!"

"Listen, boy," the man said, stepping forward. "You need to leave, this is our house. You're not welcome here. You don't have to pay for the damage, but please leave."

Clay paced outside the small cottage, the sun casting long shadows over the cobbled path. He approached the ramshackle tavern at the edge of teh village, where he knew the old man would be helping himself to some rum.

The dim light flickered from the few lanterns hung on the wooden pillars, illuminating the weeathered faces fo the villagers. An old man sat hunched over at a corner with a tankard of ale, his white beard tinged with grey. 

"Mr Vick," Clay called as he stepped forward. The old man looked up, squinting through the smoke-filled air.

"Clay, is that you?" Vick asked, his voice laden with disbelief. "I thought you were... well, you know." 

"I thought I was, but I somehow managed to stay alive."

"Many people died in the Grand Hunt, and the only people who returned in one piece were some of the stronger hunters. How did you survive?"

"I can tell you the details later," Clay replied. "But first, let us talk about something more important. I came back to find my home occupied. You sold it! How could you do this?"

Vick sighed deeply, shaking his head as he took another sip from his tankard before putting it down. "You don't understand, lad. When you didn't return after the incident, folks assumed the worst. I had no choice. I waited a few months, but you still didn't return. The house was empty for far too long, and I neeeded to keep the roof over my head."

"But it was my home! You should've at least checked with me. I would have paid the rent. I would have–"

"Would have?" Vick interrupted, his voice rising slightly. "I couldn't hold onto a place that was left to rot. You think I'm wealthy enough to sit and wait? I did wait for a couple of months, but you never returned. Not only that, with your incident, hunters are now more cautious with hunts these days. Times are hard in this village, and I've got my own bills to pay."

Clay clenched his fists, the truth cut deeper than he expected. "So, what now? A couple is living there. They don't even know who I am. I have nowhere to go."

The old man leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do. I sold the place, and they've already moved in. You know how the law of the village is; once a place changes ownership, it's nearly impossible to reclaim it. If I were to try to confront them, I'd only make enemies."

"Do you think that's fair?" Clay shot back desperately. "You let strangers take my hoome! I fought to survive, and now I'm being tossed aside?"

Vick hardened his expression as he shook his head slowly. "I can't change what's been done. You were gone a long time. I had to think of my own, my family too. They new owners have every right to stay. If I tried to intervene, it would ruin me. The law is clear on this matter; they own the house now."

"So... I'm just supposed to walk away? Live in the woods again–no, the streets this time?"

"Nothing can be done," Vick replied. "You've lost your claim. The village thought you were dead, and you've been gone too long. Everyone has moved on with their lives."

"Not even a chance?" Clay asked, his voice breaking slightly. "You can't help me at all?"

Vick's gaze softened for a moment, but then he shook his head. "I wish I could, but the villagers would back them, not me nor you. If I tried to reclaim the house, it would only cost me my livelihood. I would lose everything I have built."

Clay took a step back. The ground felt as if it was pulling him down from beneath him. "So that's it? I'm supposed to give up?"

Vick sighed heavily. "Sometimes, it's best to find a new path, young lad. Start again somewhere else. You have to find a way to live, even if it's not in that house."

That night, making himself comfortable on a bench out in the street, Clay remembered his time in the cave: Deciphering the manuals, munching on monster hearts, Falling asleep and waking up whenever he wanted. Just like a hermit, excluded from humanity. Sigh, Now that I think of it, I'd rather stay in the cave than to return here. At least I have a shelter there.

He closed his eyes, reciting the manuals engraved into his brain: 

"Radiant Breeze: In stillness, find your grounding, A meditative stance..."

Clay paused, thinking back to the strange occurances today. Toppling down a tree, tearing my shirt, ripping a door off from its hinges... have I awakened to aura? 

Excitedly, he sat up to try Radiant Breeze once again. "From the manual, I should see a luminous aura around me."

He closed his eyes and tried visualising a light. What colour is it? How is it like?

He opened his eyes to an orange sky as the sun emerged slowly from the horizon. A couple of hours passed without him noticing.

Did he see a light enveloping his body? No.

"How am I supposed to do that!" he shouted, his voice revertebrating across the entire village.