A few days after Elian’s death Freya returned home despite Laela’s worsening condition. Due to the circumstances, she instructed us to hide my awakening from others. When questioned, my parents claimed the destruction from my awakening was from Elian’s battle with the direwolves. Neither of them directed blame at me for what happened. At least not vocally.

The local lord decided to erect a large fence around the town as a means of preventing children from wandering into the woods. It could hardly be called a solution, but as the one responsible, I decided to keep quiet. 

Elian’s funeral was held a week later, which nearly half the village attended. Their glares made it clear who they blamed for his death, glares I ironically took comfort in. I was no stranger to being the subject of people’s hatred, so I welcomed the sense of familiarity. 

Julius and Laela sent a lengthy letter expressing their regret at being unable to attend due to Laela’s poor health; the rough handwriting and uncouth language indicated Julius had penned the letter himself.

Burials typically required four to six people to carry the casket. In this case, however, due to their enhanced constitution as mages, Ronan and Freya carried it alone. Holding opposite sides of the casket, they solemnly brought it to the rectangular hole that had been dug out and lowered it into the ground. The sky greyed once as dirt was slowly piled over the casket.

Standing amongst the crowd, I watched them with vacant eyes. Haela clung tightly to my sleeve, her teary gaze fixed on the ceremony. Her tiny frame trembled, and though I neither spoke nor comforted her, she held me like an anchor. Despite the physical contact, I wasn’t compelled to pull away. Chione stood several feet away with crossed arms, her expression unreadable.

The morning after the funeral, I threw myself into physical  training. I focused on stamina training and calisthenics to aid my developing body. I avoided using my core until I had more confidence in my physique. Physical fitness was intrinsically tied to your magical prowess, so I needed the foundation of a strong body before I began to train my magic. Although, I couldn’t resist testing my affinities. As it turned out, I was a dual-affinity mage capable of wielding both the fire and earth elements, which brought an excitement that successfully distracted me from the recent events.

In addition to my physical training, I attempted to do some study so I had a basis of the world's geography, history, and economics, but quickly gave up out of boredom. What little study I managed to force was solely magic studies. My days became a continuous cycle of training and weeks quickly passed by; the monotony was broken only by my steady progress.

Then, a letter from Julius arrived, informing us of Laela’s passing. He requested we visit him in Eryndrel for the funeral and an important family discussion. I only heard the contents in passing but was too engrossed in my development to pay attention to how my family reacted to the letter. The news stirred a faint pang of sadness in me, though I didn’t dwell on it. A few days later we began our journey to the capital. 

We took a carriage that appeared more expensive than we would usually use, with a door on one side and small windows one could look through to watch the passing scenery. The interior was rather sizable, allowing the five of us to sit in comfort. I couldn’t help but wonder where my parents had found the money for such a carriage, considering their only source of income was the bakery. Sitting across from Freya, I gazed out the windows, watching the familiar rows of wooden homes and the edges of the Farnfoss Woods fade into the distance. The journey to the capital was expected to take three full days, including planned stops in two cities along the way: Gilramore, infamous for its sprawling slums and rampant crime, and Perlshaw, a city near Eryndrel divided by a giant river.

Freya was also gazing at the scenery. She had recently lost both her son and her mother in a very short time frame, and despite her attempt to remain stoic, it had obviously taken a toll on her. She had deep, sunken bags under her eyes like she hadn’t slept in days. Her usually refined posture, taught by her mother, was sunken with fatigue.

I kept to myself for the length of the journey, meditating to pass the time. Sitting cross-legged in the carriage with my eyes closed, I cycled the mana, absorbing, processing, and expelling it in a steady rhythm. It was a methodical practice, aimed at slowly expanding my mana pool and strengthening my core. The progress was slow but satisfying.

A mage’s mana core could ascend through seven tiers, each named after a specific mineral. My core, however, was still untiered. With enough meditation and training, it would eventually advance to the first tier, allowing me to become an iron core mage. Progress beyond each tier required overcoming a unique hurdle, hurdles that grew progressively harder with each ascent. For now, though, I wouldn’t have to worry about such things. Without even an iron core, I was barely considered a mage.

The hours flew by before the carriage slowed. Opening my eyes, I saw we had arrived in Gilramore. The city sprawled in every direction, its streets teeming with life. Unlike Damerel, where buildings were primarily wooden, Gilramore boasted structures of stone and brick. The roads were paved in similar materials, lending the city a sense of permanence. The atmosphere, however, was anything but stable.

As I studied the bustling streets, I noticed the crowds consisted entirely of humans. So much for being a mixed kingdom, I criticised silently. Ekrethia was often praised for its diversity and inclusivity, but it seemed that reputation only held true in certain places of the kingdom.

By the time we reached an expensive looking inn, the sun was already dipping low in the sky.

“Stay close, and don’t get lost,” Freya said as we all descended from the carriage. 

She quickly paid the driver, and we made our way inside. After booking a three-bedroom suite, we headed up to the third floor and entered our lodging. Freya decided that once we’d unpacked, we’d immediately head out for dinner. As the others busied themselves, I wandered over to the window of my room. It offered a view of the narrow back streets behind the inn. My gaze caught a commotion below—a group of people struggling in an alley. Two men were dragging a small girl into the shadows, their hands clamped over her mouth. She kicked and struggled, but they easily overpowered her, wrapping her wrists tightly in rope.

Human traffickers in broad daylight? I stared in disbelief. Wasn’t this part of the city supposed to have the lowest crime rate? Shaking my head, I drew the curtains and turned away. There was no point mentioning it to my family. If I did, they might try to get involved unnecessarily.

I sat in the main room as I waited for the others to finish unpacking. It didn’t take long, since we were only staying for the night. I hadn’t even been carrying my own bag, as my luggage was put in the same bag as Ronan’s. My parents were sharing one room, and my sisters another, leaving me to my own bedroom.

“Everyone ready?” Freya asked once we’d all gathered in the main room.

“What if someone breaks in while we’re out?” I asked.

Freya shook her head. “Your father and I have stayed here before. This is a well-run inn with very good security. Not perfect, of course, but leagues above the other inns in the city.” 

Satisfied, we stuck together as we left the inn and joined the bustling streets. Eventually, we ducked into a cosy restaurant called Daydream for an early dinner. The smell of roasting meat and freshly made food greeted us warmly as we stepped inside. For a moment, it was easy to forget the city's less-than-ideal reputation.

We sat down at a table and each ordered a set meal. The food was high-end and bursting with flavour. When we’d finished, Ronan suggested ordering ice cream—a flavoured milk ice paste. Five hundred years ago, a surge of culinary developments had revolutionised food in this world, making it far superior to the fare in my old world. Ice cream was just one of these unfamiliar delicacies. However, I declined. Food was nutrition, fuel for the body. Eating purely for pleasure was counter-intuitive. It was the same reason I never drank alcohol in my past life; it was poison, needlessly damaging to the body.

The others, unbothered by such thoughts, each ordered a scoop of ice cream. Meanwhile, I silently worried about how we could afford such luxuries. This was only the first day of the trip, yet we’d already paid for a high-end carriage ride, a well-guarded inn suite, an extravagant dinner, and now even dessert!

Are they trying to splurge all our savings in a single trip? I wondered, suddenly wary of the meal's cost. I eyed the ice cream, certain this thoughtless spending would leave us in a critical financial situation. This frugal mindset, developed from my time growing up on the streets, hadn’t diminished even after being reincarnated.

Ronan, misunderstanding my look, chuckled, “You can have some if you’d like.” 

I shook my head, pulling my thoughts back. The money was already spent; there was no point in dwelling on it now. I would just have to keep an eye on my parents until we reached Eryndrel.

Once the bill was paid, we left the restaurant. Night had fallen, and the street lanterns’ candles flickered in the cool air. The bustling crowds had disappeared, leaving behind only a few stragglers—some hurrying home, others slinking in the shadows with shifty glances. Without the noise of carriages and throngs of people, the city felt eerily quiet, a faint edge of danger hanging in the air.

We turned down a side street on our way back to the inn, staying close together as Freya had instructed. A trio of shady figures emerged from the shadows, the glint of metal catching the dim light as one revealed a knife. They sauntered forward with crooked grins, trying to appear intimidating. 

The one with the knife stepped forwards. “Well, well, well. What do we have—blergh!” Freya didn’t let him finish as she raised her left hand, sending a continuous jet of water into his face. The force of it threw him backwards onto the pavement. The jet split into two streams, one pinning him to the ground while the other swept the knife from his hand, sending it clattering across the street. 

A small fire flickered into existence in Freya’s other hand, its warm glow illuminating the shocked faces of the other two assailants. One immediately panicked, dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to the ground.

“Please spare me! I was dragged into this against my will, I swear! I don’t even know these people. Honest!” he spluttered.

“B-brian, what are you doing?” the second man hissed, trying to haul him to his feet while glancing nervously at the water-soaked one still being pinned to the ground. “Get up!”

Brian shoved him away. “Begone, villain! I don’t associate with criminals!”

The five of us simply stood there, unimpressed, as the ridiculous scene unfolded. Freya sighed, ceasing the water jet, and waved her hand dismissively. “Shoo.”

The second man hesitated, glancing between us and his companions, until he saw the drenched one scrambling to his feet and fleeing. Brian, following the first one's lead, yelled at the second man. “What are you doing, Shaun? That’s a mage—run!” 

Shaun didn’t need to be told twice. He turned and bolted after them. The trio disappeared into the night, the drenched man leaving a trail of water in his wake.

Ronan was trying not to laugh, while my sisters exchanged bemused glances. Freya gently shook her head in disbelief. I couldn’t decide if the muggers were exceptionally incompetent or if I’d vastly overestimated the city’s criminals. Either way, it shouldn’t have surprised me; my parents were both gold core mages. Most threats in Gilramore wouldn’t pose a challenge to them. However, this was no reason to let my guard down. Even weak threats could escalate to something life-threatening, especially if Ronan or Freya weren’t around.

After the less-than-frightening encounter, we returned to the inn. Just as Freya had said, nothing had been disturbed, and all our belongings were exactly where we’d left them. 

“Right, early to bed tonight,” Ronan said, clapping his hands and ushering us to our rooms.

Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, a pang of homesickness settling in my chest. It was the first time in years I’d slept in a bed that wasn’t my own. Shaking off the feeling, I turned onto my side, closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep.