Thalos was already awake, crouched near the remnants of last night’s fire. He worked silently, slicing through some dried meat and preparing a simple meal. His movements were precise, methodical—as if he had done this countless times before. He knew Aeren needed proper nourishment, though the boy never complained.

As he arranged the food, a sudden sound broke the morning stillness.

Clank. Clank. Clank.

The distinct ringing of metal echoed through the trees, accompanied by the rhythmic march of armored boots. The vibrations ran through the ground, alerting Thalos immediately. His sharp eyes flickered toward the source, his senses honing in.

Aeren stirred, the unfamiliar noise rousing him from his sleep. He blinked, groggy, before sitting up. “What’s… that sound?”

Thalos didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rose to his feet, his expression unreadable. “Stay here.”

Aeren, of course, ignored that. He followed, albeit cautiously, as Thalos moved toward the noise. They reached the edge of a clearing where the forest thinned out, and what they saw made Aeren’s breath hitch.

A dozen warriors, clad in armor, were locked in battle against a relentless horde of goblins. Blood stained the earth as bodies—both human and goblin—lay motionless across the battlefield. Some warriors were severely injured, barely holding their weapons, while others had already fallen.

In the middle of it all, a grand carriage stood—its elegant design now battered and smeared with dirt. From the small window, Aeren caught sight of a girl around his age, her wide eyes filled with fear. She clutched the edge of the carriage, trembling as goblins advanced toward her.

Aeren’s hands clenched into fists. He wanted to move, to do something—but Thalos had already acted.

Without hesitation, the old mage bent down and picked up a single stone from the ground. He flicked it into the air, then with a swift motion, threw it toward one of the goblins.

The moment the stone made contact, a pulse of magic surged through the air. In the blink of an eye, Thalos disappeared—only to reappear exactly where the stone had landed.

Body Swap.

Before the goblin could react, a gleaming blade flashed. Slash.

The goblin’s head flew clean off, its body collapsing lifelessly onto the dirt. The remaining goblins barely had time to register what happened before Thalos moved again, his form a blur of deadly precision.

One after another, the creatures fell, cut down effortlessly. His strikes were swift, merciless—no wasted movements, no hesitation.

Aeren stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape.

He had seen Thalos perform small feats of magic before—lighting fires, chopping wood, simple things. But this… this was something else entirely.

This was battle.

And Thalos was nothing short of terrifying.

Thalos moved through the battlefield with the grace of a predator, his blade flashing with deadly precision. Within moments, the remaining goblins lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies scattered like broken toys. The warriors, panting and bloodied, slowly regained their composure, their eyes shifting toward the mage who had come to their aid.

A couple of them recognized him immediately, their faces filled with a mix of gratitude and awe. “Thalos… is that really you?” one of the warriors called out, his voice hoarse from the battle.

Another man, his arm badly injured but still standing, nodded in agreement. “We owe you our lives. You’ve saved us all, mage.”

Thalos merely gave a short nod, his expression unchanged. “It’s nothing. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

His words were calm, but there was a certain weight to them—a reminder of the deadly power he wielded. The warriors could only murmur their thanks, humbled in the presence of a figure who had so effortlessly dispatched their enemies.

As Thalos made his way toward the carriage, the small princess inside had finally emerged. Her golden hair was disheveled, and her face was pale with fear. She looked to be about Aeren's age, but her bearing was royal—her fine, silken dress barely tattered despite the chaos.

The moment she stepped out of the carriage, her wide eyes locked on Thalos, and she stumbled backward, trembling.

"Don’t be afraid," Thalos said in his calm, steady voice. "You’re safe now."

He gestured to the canopy, his home hidden within the thick forest. “Come, rest. You’ve been through enough.”

The princess hesitated, but the sight of her protectors, now safe and recovering, gave her the courage to step forward. She slowly made her way toward Thalos, her eyes darting between him and the surrounding warriors who were beginning to regroup.

As they moved toward the canopy, Thalos began to set up a small campfire, preparing a herbal drink for the warriors. His hands moved with practiced ease, mixing herbs and water into a calming brew that would help soothe their injuries and fatigue.

Aeren, however, had other plans. He lingered behind for a moment, his curiosity piqued by the princess. She was a mystery to him—someone from a world so different from his own. His eyes followed her as she cautiously approached Thalos, then he decided to make his move.

He walked toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, unsure of how to approach.

"Hey," Aeren called softly, stopping a few paces away from her.

The princess flinched at his voice, her delicate features tightening with caution. But she looked at him, her eyes still filled with the remnants of fear.

“Are you okay?” Aeren asked, his tone gentle, trying to ease her nerves. He had always been used to dealing with people from the forest, but this girl… she was different.

The princess nodded, though her eyes never fully left him. "I'm… I’m fine. Just a little shaken, I guess."

Aeren gave a small, awkward smile. "I saw you in the carriage… you looked pretty scared."

Her gaze softened, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. "I was. But… thanks to him," she gestured toward Thalos, who was now serving the warriors, "we’re all alive."

Aeren nodded, feeling a strange sense of admiration for the princess. He had never been around royalty before, and seeing her now—vulnerable but strong in her own way—was eye-opening.

“What’s your name?” Aeren asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.

The princess hesitated for a moment, then answered softly, “Serena. Princess Serena.”

"Serena..." Aeren repeated, the name rolling off his tongue. "I’m Aeren. Just Aeren."

She smiled, a tiny thing, but it was enough to break the tension. "Aeren… It's nice to meet you."

Aeren felt a slight flush rise in his chest. He wasn’t used to talking to people outside of Thalos, and certainly never to someone like her. But there was something oddly comforting about the way she spoke, even amidst everything that had just happened.

As Thalos called them over, Aeren and Serena walked toward him together, their conversation lingering in the air. The warriors gathered around the campfire, and the princess took a seat beside them, her eyes still darting nervously from one person to the next.

Thalos offered the drink to the wounded first, making sure they were tended to before he turned to the princess. “You’re safe here. Rest now.”

Aeren sat next to Serena, his thoughts still lingering on the battle and the strange power Thalos held. Despite his awe, there was a small part of him that felt something stir inside—something that wasn’t just curiosity about the princess, but something deeper, something more.