Something in Cain snapped. The shadow memories surged forward—his mother's death, his helplessness, the mocking laughter of the Crimson Grins. Without conscious thought, he lunged toward SlayerKing, fist raised.

"Leave them alone!" he shouted, swinging at the Adventurer's face.

But something strange happened. As his fist approached SlayerKing, an invisible force seemed to divert it, his arm veering off course as if pushed aside by an unseen hand. No matter how he tried, he couldn't land a blow on the Adventurer's smirking face.

"Would you look at that," SlayerKing laughed, genuinely amused. "The blacksmith's kid is trying to fight back. Didn't you know Natives can't harm Adventurers? It's built into The Divine Laws."

With casual cruelty, SlayerKing backhanded Cain across the face. The blow sent him sprawling to the cobblestones, pain blooming across his cheek. Something warm trickled from his split lip—blood, bright red against his fingers when he touched the wound.

"Pathetic," SlayerKing sneered, turning back to EmberHeart and Lydia. "Now, where were we?"

EmberHeart knelt quickly beside Cain, her eyes flashing with anger as she helped him to a sitting position. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

Before Cain could answer, SlayerKing grabbed EmberHeart's arm, trying to pull her away. "I said move, you stupid newbie."

"And I said no," she replied, wrenching her arm free with surprising strength. She stood again between SlayerKing and the others, her hand moving to the dagger at her belt—the one Cain had crafted.

The confrontation might have escalated further if not for the sudden arrival of village guards, their armor gleaming in the midday sun as they converged on the scene with drawn swords.

"Violence against villagers is prohibited," the lead guard announced in booming tones. "Cease hostilities immediately or face removal from Woodhaven."

SlayerKing sized up the situation, noting the growing crowd of onlookers and the multiple guards surrounding him. With a disgusted sigh, he sheathed his weapon.

"Not worth the trouble," he muttered. "This tutorial village is boring anyway." He jabbed a finger toward EmberHeart. "You should learn the difference between what matters and what doesn't in this world, newbie. Natives aren't people—they're just background decoration."

With that parting shot, he strode away, shouldering roughly past the guards who watched him until he disappeared down the path leading to the eastern gate.

The square gradually returned to its normal rhythm, the brief drama already forgotten by most Adventurers who had witnessed it. The guards dispersed, and the merchant resumed her sales as if nothing had happened.

EmberHeart knelt beside Cain again, producing a small cloth from her inventory. "Here," she said, gently dabbing at his bleeding lip. "Hold this against the cut."

"Thank you," Cain said, wincing slightly at the pressure. "For helping my mother, and for helping me."

"Of course," EmberHeart replied, as if defending villagers from harassment was the most natural thing in the world. "That guy was horrible. I can't believe anyone would treat others that way, Natives or not."

Lydia joined them, her expression concerned as she examined Cain's injury. "It's not deep," she assessed professionally. "It will heal within a day." She turned to EmberHeart with genuine gratitude. "Thank you for your intervention, young Adventurer. Not many would stand against their own kind to protect a village guide."

"I didn't do it because you're a guide," EmberHeart said simply. "I did it because it was right."

As they spoke, Cain found himself struggling to process what had happened. Why couldn't he hit SlayerKing? The Adventurer had said it was "built into The Divine Laws" that Natives couldn't harm Adventurers. Was that true? Had it always been that way? And why did he feel such frustration at the limitation, as if he had only just discovered it rather than known it his entire life?

"Cain?" His mother's voice broke through his thoughts. "Perhaps you should return to the forge. Your father will be wondering where you are."

"I'll walk with you," EmberHeart offered, helping him to his feet.

As they crossed the square, Cain couldn't help glancing back at the spot where the confrontation had occurred. Something about it had triggered those strange almost-memories again—shadowy impressions of events he couldn't possibly have experienced yet somehow felt he had.

"Does your lip hurt very much?" EmberHeart asked as they walked.

"Not really," Cain answered automatically, then reconsidered. "Actually, yes. But I'm more troubled by... something else."

"What is it?" Her question held genuine interest.

Cain hesitated, unsure how to articulate the strange sensations plaguing him. "Have you ever felt like you've experienced something before, even though you know you haven't?"

EmberHeart nodded thoughtfully. "Like déjà vu? Yes, I've felt that."

"It's more than that," Cain tried to explain. "When that Adventurer threatened my mother, I had this feeling... like I'd seen her hurt before. Like I'd watched her die. But that's impossible."

He expected EmberHeart to dismiss his concerns or look at him strangely, as most Adventurers did when villagers expressed complex thoughts. Instead, she seemed intrigued.

"Maybe not impossible," she said carefully. "There are things about this world that don't quite make sense yet. The Divine Laws, the New Dawn, the difference between Adventurers and Natives... maybe your feelings are telling you something important."

They had reached the forge, where Edric was hammering a glowing piece of metal, oblivious to what had transpired in the square.

"Thank you again," Cain said as they paused at the entrance. "Most Adventurers wouldn't have done what you did."

"I'm not most Adventurers," EmberHeart replied with a smile. Then, more seriously: "I'll come back tomorrow. I'd like to hear more about those feelings of yours, if you're willing to share them."

As she walked away, Cain touched his swollen lip, the pain a sharp reminder of his encounter with SlayerKing. The Adventurer's words echoed in his mind: "Natives can't harm Adventurers. It's built into The Divine Laws."

If that was true—and his own experience suggested it was—then the implications were troubling. What kind of world had rules preventing one group from defending themselves against another? And more importantly, why had he never questioned this fundamental inequality before today?

Cain entered the forge, the familiar heat and smells washing over him. His father glanced up from his work, noticing the injury immediately.

"What happened to your face?" Edric asked, setting down his hammer.

"An Adventurer in the square," Cain explained. "He was threatening Mother. I tried to stop him, but..." He trailed off, unsure how to explain the strange force that had prevented his attack.

Edric's expression showed no surprise, no outrage at the attack on his son, just a resigned acceptance. "You cannot strike an Adventurer, Cain. That is not our place."

"So I've learned," Cain replied, more bitterly than he intended. "But why, Father? Why can they hurt us while we cannot defend ourselves?"

"That is the way of things," Edric said simply, turning back to his anvil. "The Divine Laws set boundaries for all of us."

The answer was unsatisfying, yet familiar—the same unquestioning acceptance his father always displayed. But for Cain, something had changed. The incident in the square, combined with EmberHeart's unexpected alliance, had cracked open a door in his mind that he hadn't even known existed.

As he resumed his work at the forge, wrapping leather around sword hilts with practiced ease, Cain's thoughts kept returning to EmberHeart's parting words: "I'll come back tomorrow."