I woke up…
Slowly.
Peacefully.
In a way I hadn’t experienced since the first time I opened my eyes in those endless green meadows.
This was the first time I had truly slept with complete peace of mind.
No fear lurking in my chest.
No nightmares chasing me through the darkness.
No constant, oppressive weight hanging over me like a cold shadow since the day I arrived in this world.
Only stillness.
Real peace.
The kind of rest that makes your body thank you when morning comes.
I opened my eyes gradually, allowing them to adjust to the light.
The small room at Sarah’s inn.
The simple wooden ceiling.
The air carried the scent of morning and freshly baked bread drifting up from the floor below.
For a moment, it felt as though my body refused to get up—not because it was tired, but because it was too comfortable.
As if the bed itself was clinging to me, unwilling to let me go.
I walked over to the small window and pushed it open slightly.
Sunlight poured into the room in a generous golden stream.
Only then did I realize—
The day was already halfway gone.
The sun hung near the center of the sky, and the streets below buzzed with the activity of the marketplace.
I had slept for a long time.
I muttered the thought with a faint smile before taking a deep breath.
The new clothes Amy had bought for me yesterday—a dark, soft shirt and comfortable trousers that didn’t restrict movement—felt surprisingly natural to wear.
As though I were putting on a new sense of confidence as well.
I made my way downstairs to the dining hall.
The place was surprisingly quiet for midday.
Simple wooden tables.
Rounded chairs.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting bright rectangles across the floor.
There was hardly anyone there.
Except for Amy and Sarah.
The two sat together at a table near the large window, chatting animatedly as though they hadn’t seen each other in years.
Sarah wore comfortable dark clothing, her black-and-gray hair tied back with a simple cord.
Amy, meanwhile, radiated her usual energy—the kind that somehow made a room feel larger simply because she was in it.
The moment they spotted me, Amy raised her hand and waved enthusiastically.
“Over here, sleepyhead!
You’re finally awake!”
A smile appeared on my face before I even realized it.
I walked toward them at an easy pace.
“Weren’t you late too?”
I sat down across from her.
“Waking up slightly earlier than me doesn’t give you the right to make fun of me.”
She laughed.
A light laugh.
But one full of life, rising from a genuinely happy place.
Then she pointed at Sarah.
“We’ll eat first…”
“And then we’ll leave.”
I nodded and sat with them.
Sarah looked at me with calm eyes that held a hidden warmth—the kind possessed by women who had spent years welcoming strangers and bidding them farewell.
After collecting payment for our meals, Sarah stood and headed toward the kitchen with calm, confident steps.
Almost as if she were dancing across territory that belonged entirely to her.
I glanced around the inn again.
It was nearly empty.
Which made sense.
Lunch was still early, and few people came at this hour.
It wasn’t long before Sarah returned.
She placed the plates before us.
This meal was different.
Heavier.
Richer.
Filled with fresh butter and tender meat.
Slices of roasted meat rested atop a bed of fresh vegetables, accompanied by a large loaf of bread that was still warm.
A proper meal.
One worth every coin.
Especially considering it hadn’t been cheap.
We began eating.
Slowly.
Quietly.
As though every bite restored a little of the strength we had lost.
As though every bite returned a small piece of the humanity we had nearly left behind on the battlefield.
When we finished, I turned toward Amy.
“What do we do now?”
Excitement immediately flashed in her eyes like a spark in the darkness.
“First…”
She leaned forward slightly.
Her voice carried its familiar enthusiasm.
“We’re registering you as a mercenary!”
Then she flashed a wide grin.
“We’re going to make a fortune thanks to you, strong guy!”
I couldn’t help but smile.
Before I could even respond, she had already grabbed my arm with surprising firmness.
“Come on!”
And just like that, she dragged me outside as effortlessly as the wind carrying an autumn leaf.
“I’ve got amazing teammates.”
“I’ll introduce you to them.”
We walked through the city’s streets for some time.
Stone roads crowded with movement, sounds, and scents.
Merchants advertising their goods.
Children running through the streets.
Laborers carrying heavy loads.
Ordinary life stretched in every direction.
A comfortable silence settled between us.
The sort of silence that might have bothered most people.
But not me.
Perhaps because Amy’s enthusiasm was enough to fill any empty space, even without words.
Eventually, we stopped in front of a relatively large building.
A two-story structure built from gray stone.
A large wooden sign hung above the entrance, covered in writing I still couldn’t understand.
“We’re here.”
I looked up.
A Mercenary Guild.
The first floor was packed with activity.
People constantly entered and exited.
Some carried weapons.
Others held sheets of paper.
Before I could properly take in the scene, Amy darted inside.
She weaved through the crowd and headed straight for a woman standing behind a large wooden counter.
“Aunt Mary!
I missed you so much!”
Without hesitation, she wrapped the woman in a hug.
The employee—or rather, Mary—smiled immediately.
She looked genuinely happy to see Amy and returned the embrace warmly.
After several moments of friendly conversation, Amy turned toward me.
“This is Daron.”
“I’d like to register him as a mercenary.”
I stepped forward.
Mary appeared to be in her late twenties.
Long blonde hair rested neatly over her shoulders.
Her green eyes were calm and intelligent.
She wore a dark formal uniform.
The smile never left her face, yet it never felt forced.
“Welcome.”
Her tone was warm and sincere.
Then she began explaining things in a professional but friendly manner.
“Mercenary work revolves around completing assignments.”
“Protection.”
“Hunting.”
“Resource gathering.”
“Or even monster extermination.”
I listened quietly, trying to absorb every word.
“As for ranks, there are five of them.”
She held up a hand.
“From there, advancement depends on strength, skill, experience…”
“And the reputation you earn.”
I glanced toward Amy.
“I’m Rank Five too.”
There was a trace of challenge hidden within her smile.
“But after the war…”
“My promotion is only a matter of time.”
Several minutes later, after completing the registration process, I received my guild card.
A small rectangular piece of metal.
Gray in color.
The number five was engraved clearly on its surface.
A new beginning.
I held it for a moment, feeling its weight in my palm.
A small weight.
Yet one that carried meaning.
Mary explained that missions became available according to rank.
Rank Five granted access to specific assignments.
The higher your rank, the more opportunities became available.
Once everything was finished, Amy grabbed my arm again with her warm hand.
This time, she led me toward three people seated at a nearby table.
“These are my teammates.”
She pointed toward the first.
“Karl.”
Then she added with a smile she was clearly trying to hide.
“A talented swordsman…
despite his chronic narcissism.”
Karl was tall, nearly six foot three.
His silver hair resembled a streak of lightning, cut short but meticulously maintained.
His eyes were the color of a clear sky.
The sort of eyes that evaluated everything the moment they saw it.
He wore fitted leather armor and carried two elegant swords at his waist.
His presence radiated confidence.
Perhaps a little too much confidence.
Enough to make you wonder whether he realized it himself.
“And this is Gene.”
“Our defender.”
“Huge…
but kind.”
Gene was a giant in every sense of the word.
Standing slightly over two meters tall, his muscles stretched his clothing like small mountains.
His short red hair resembled dim flames.
His round face looked surprisingly friendly, completely at odds with his enormous physique.
A thick steel breastplate covered his chest and shoulders.
A massive axe rested across his back as though it were simply another part of him.
“And finally…”
“Nor.”
“Our archer.”
Nor appeared to be in her early twenties.
Long brown hair was braided neatly behind her back.
Her gray eyes were wide and observant, watching more than she spoke.
Light freckles decorated her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.
She wore lightweight clothing designed for mobility.
A quiver rested at her back alongside a disassembled bow.
I looked at all of them and spoke honestly.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m Daron.”
The three exchanged brief glances.
The kind of quick evaluation every fighter performs when meeting someone new.
Then they smiled.
“The pleasure’s ours.”
“Welcome, rookie.”
For a brief moment—
Something warm settled in my chest.
A quiet warmth.
The feeling of standing among people you could truly call…
Companions.