Edward made his way through the village square, weaving past merchants and children until the noise of the market began to fade behind him.
Soon, he arrived at the Chief’s residence. He stepped up to the massive entrance and lifted his hand.
Knock. Knock.
The sound echoed, deep and hollow, before the door creaked open to reveal a man in fine livery. The servant’s expression was calm, practised, as if he had been expecting Edward.
"Edward, I presume?" the servant asked, voice low but firm.
Edward gave a quick nod.
"This way."
The servant turned without waiting for a reply. Edward followed, boots clicking against the polished stone floor.
The interior swallowed him with its cool air and faint scent of cedar oil. Sunlight streamed through tall windows draped with embroidered curtains, throwing golden light across the corridor. Tapestries hung on the walls—scenes of hunts, battles, and old festivals—all stitched with threads that glimmered faintly as he passed.
His pace slowed, curiosity tugging at him, but the servant moved briskly until they stopped before a tall double door bound with golden hinges. With a bow of his head, the servant pushed the doors open.
Edward stepped into the Chief’s office.
The room was broad, its walls paneled with dark wood polished to a mirror shine. A massive desk dominated the center, carved from a single slab of oak, its surface inlaid with thin strips of gold that traced elegant patterns across the grain. Two large sofas flanked the room, their leather cushions dark and rich, the kind of furniture Edward had only ever seen from afar.
Two figures were inside.
The Chief rose from behind the desk at Edward’s entrance. His presence filled the room even before he spoke—broad shoulders, trimmed beard flecked with gray, and eyes that seemed to weigh everything in silence.
And then there was the girl. She sat on one of the sofas, legs crossed, posture straight. Her peach-colored hair caught the light like a flame, and her black eyes flicked toward Edward the moment he entered. He recognised her instantly—the girl he had brushed past at the entrance earlier.
"Ahh, Edward," the Chief said warmly, gesturing with one hand. "Come in, please, take a seat." He motioned toward the empty chair in front of his desk.
Edward’s boots felt heavy as he crossed the room.
"You’ve met my daughter, Aeris, before?" the Chief asked, his tone casual.
Edward nodded once, keeping his eyes steady. "Briefly."
Aeris’ gaze lingered on him, sharp and assessing. There was no warmth in her expression—only caution, as if she were trying to decide whether he was worth her time.
Edward sank into the chair, and as he did, the Chief also lowered himself back into his own seat, the leather creaking under his weight.
"So..." The Chief let the silence hang for a beat before breaking it. "Your reward."
Edward straightened in his chair.
"I have found a mentor for you to shadow on your killer-finding journeys," the Chief said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He glanced to the side. "Aeris"
Edward’s eyes widened, his mind stumbling.
"What?"
The voice hadn’t come from him—it was Aeris who had shot up from the sofa. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her expression twisting in disbelief.
"You can’t be serious!" she snapped.
The Chief’s only response was a calm, almost amused smile. His gaze flicked toward her, then back to Edward.
"I know she may not seem the type," he said, his voice measured. "But she is a seasoned warrior. She’s been at Green Stage for almost two years now." Pride swelled in his tone, clear and unashamed.
Edward blinked, the words rattling through his mind.
"Green Stage..."
He searched his memories for an answer, and soon, he found one.
There were five stages.
Black → Blue → Green → Yellow → White.
Each stage was divided into initial, mid, and late phases.
Black was the beginning, where most people struggled. Blue was respectable, but still common. Green was where true strength began.
Yellow wielders numbered less than a hundred across the entire continent. And White? Only six were known to exist.
His gaze shifted back to Aeris, surprise pulling at his features. To reach Green Stage at her age was more than impressive—it was extraordinary.
But the moment their eyes met, that surprise curdled into something else.
Her brows had drawn together, her black eyes sharp and unyielding. She looked at him not as a companion, not as someone she would guide, but as an intruder forced into her path.
Edward swallowed.
"I don’t think she’s happy with that decision," he noted silently, his lips pressed in a thin line.
The Chief leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly against the desk. His calm presence filled the silence that followed, as if daring either of them to object further.
Edward sat rigid, caught between the weight of the Chief’s expectations and the blade of Aeris’ glare. It’s true that he wanted an opportunity, but this...
This was not what he imagined.