As the cursed village disappeared behind them, Hound slowed his pace and glanced toward Quade, who was still adjusting to walking beside people again instead of alone.
"First things first," Hound said. "You should know where we're headed and what our plans are."
Quade looked over.
"We're making for Shallow Cross. We'll trade materials, sell excess Ether-cores, upgrade our equipment, and hopefully find an old friend of mine who knows his way around a forge. If he's still alive, he'll be able to turn everything we've gathered into proper gear."
Zyon and Lorenzo reacted to this new piece of information but didn't push their master for answers.
"Shallow Cross?" Quade blinked before a small smile appeared. "No one's called it that in years. It's known as the Grand Pass now."
The name caught everyone's attention.
"And if we're lucky?" Quade pointed ahead. "I can get us there in a week."
Lorenzo almost tripped over his own feet. "A week?!"
Quade nodded. "I know a faster route."
"Quade," Lorenzo said, placing a hand over his heart, "you're already my favorite person."
"Please follow me," Quade asked the group politely.
He led them to a shallow cove in the river, which was close to his village.
Several elegant boats rested beneath the trees, partially concealed by hanging vines and overgrown vegetation.
Twin hulls carved from dark jungle hardwood sat side by side beneath broad decks, while sturdy sails made from treated hides swayed gently in the breeze.
Zyon walked around one slowly. "This belonged to your village?"
Quade nodded. "The Simmons used them to travel to the Grand Pass or further."
His hand brushed across the polished wood. "When we needed to go upstream, we used small Ether-core engines. Downstream..." He pointed toward the current. "The river does the work."
Lorenzo immediately looked toward his overloaded backpack.
His smile returned. 'A boat. No more walking. No more carrying this giant shell through the jungle like a lost turtle.'
Life suddenly seemed much brighter.
A short while later, they pushed one of the larger catamarans into the water and climbed aboard.
Quade took the rudder naturally, settling into the role as though he had done it a thousand times before. The current guided them forward while the wind filled the sails overhead, allowing the boat to glide effortlessly between walls of jungle.
For the first time in weeks, nobody had to walk.
Lorenzo nearly cried with happiness.
Near the bow, Zyon rested one hand against the railing and, without thinking, touched the strip of white silkworm cloth wrapped around his arm beneath the armor.
The familiar fabric brought memories with it.
Soft healing light.
A warm hand brushing dirt from his forehead.
A gentle voice telling him everything would be alright.
It was Sisy Nila.
He could almost hear her humming beneath the desert stars as she held him after a nightmare.
Another memory surfaced.
A storm.
Darkness.
Fear.
Then golden feathers flashed beneath the sun as the great bird circled overhead, watching silently from above while a strange sense of protection settled over everything below.
The memory lingered, vivid enough that it felt less like a dream and more like something he had truly lived through.
Zyon frowned.
The giant bird that had attacked the Ironback during his fight...
The feeling felt familiar.
Too familiar.
His fingers tightened slightly around the railing. 'Why am I remembering this now?'
The memories felt distant.
Dreamlike.
Yet somehow important and real.
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"You okay, brother?" Lorenzo's voice pulled him back to the present.
Zyon glanced over and found his friend watching him carefully. "Yeah."
"You look like you're trying to solve the mysteries of the universe," Lorenzo replied.
Despite himself, Zyon smiled. "Sisy Nila."
The joke faded immediately.
Lorenzo's expression softened. "Oh."
Both fell quiet for a moment.
The river continued carrying them north.
Quade glanced back from the rudder, listening in.
For the first time since joining them, he finally understood something.
All four of them were carrying ghosts.
A full day passed on the river.
Sleeping onboard proved harder than expected. The constant rocking kept waking them during the night, while occasional currents caused the vessel to lurch without warning.
Later, Zyon volunteered to steer the catamaran.
Surprisingly, he enjoyed it.
The river felt alive beneath the boat. Rather than forcing the vessel where he wanted it to go, he learned to work with the current, making small adjustments whenever necessary. The result was almost meditative.
By midday the next day, Hound tapped the side of the boat. "We stop here."
The vessel drifted toward a broad clearing along the riverbank where sunlight poured through a rare opening in the jungle canopy.
The moment the boat touched land, Hound pointed toward the field. "Time for training."
Lorenzo groaned dramatically.
Zyon, of course, was excited.
While Zyon and Lorenzo prepared for meditation, Hound motioned for Quade to follow him.
"We light users start our day with meditation under the sun to strengthen our light. Do your people have such a tradition?"
"I know of meditations and such, only we Simmons didn't really have a specific tradition for it. I think every warrior in our tribe had their own ways of finding inner depth," the boy replied.
Quade pulled out his old, worn notebook. "This was from my grandfather, one of the leaders in the village. He gave me this book shortly before the attack. But I never learned to read properly.
I was trained as a warrior first. Maybe in here he has written down his ways, and maybe I can follow in his footsteps."
"I can read it for you," Hound offered. "I would like to learn more about the Simmons Warriors anyway."
Quade's eyes shone when he heard those words.
They walked a bit farther before Hound spoke again. "Quade, your power is incredibly strong, but the cost is heavy," Hound said seriously. "We need to train it. Find ways to lessen the damage to your body."
The older man folded his arms. "Tell me everything about it, the way it feels when you use it."
Quade lowered his gaze to his hands and slowly flexed his fingers. "My Heka is gone."
Hound frowned but didn't interrupt.
"Not low," Quade continued, shaking his head. "Gone. I can't feel it anymore."
A bitter smile crossed his face before quickly fading. "And yet somehow, this power is still there."
The older man folded his arms almost in disbelief. "Then how do you channel your power without Heka?"
"I don't understand it, but it's like I sacrifice parts of myself," he said quietly. "The stronger the attack, the greater the sacrifice. When I use it, it feels like something is being erased from existence." His fingers slowly curled into a fist. "The strange part is that it doesn't hurt."
"Not at all?" Hound asked.
Quade shook his head. "I still feel the missing parts afterward. The arm. The leg. Even when they're gone, my mind acts like they're still there."
Hound leaned back slightly, replaying the battle in his mind. The missing hand. The vanished leg. The galaxy-like voids where flesh should have been. In all his years as an adventurer, he had never encountered anything remotely similar.
"This power..." He exhaled slowly. "It doesn't belong to anything I know. Maybe it is something out of our realm."
For the first time since meeting them, uncertainty appeared on Quade's face. "That's bad, isn't it?"
Hound shook his head. "It means we have a lot to learn."
The answer seemed to ease some of the tension in Quade's shoulders.
"You have my word," Hound continued. "We'll figure this out together."
A small spark of hope appeared on Quade's scarred face. Real hope.
"Have you ever given it a name?" the Master asked.
Quade blinked. "My power?"
Hound nodded.
The boy fell silent for several moments.
It reminded him of the night sky, of endless darkness filled with distant stars and cold empty spaces between them.
Eventually, he looked up. "Cosmic Debt."
Somehow, it fit perfectly. Cold. Endless. Hungry.
Exactly like the power itself.
Meanwhile, Zyon and Lorenzo sat cross-legged beneath the sun.
Even Lorenzo seemed unusually focused.
No jokes.
No complaints.
Just steady breathing.
The sunlight washed over them while the river flowed nearby, and when Zyon sank into meditation, he immediately felt the familiar warmth gathering inside him.
Stronger than before.
Brighter than before.
Growing.
By the time everyone finished meditating, the sun sat high overhead.
Hound rose first. "Good."
Lorenzo stretched and heard something pop.
"Now," Hound continued, "we train."
A short while later, the group stood in a clearing near the river.
Weapons rested comfortably in their hands.
Quade drew his katana with smooth precision.
Lorenzo spun his dual blades.
"Zyon, watch and learn for now." Hound then picked up a simple training sword and stepped forward. "Begin."
Quade attacked first.
His katana flashed toward Hound's shoulder in a clean diagonal strike, but the veteran intercepted it effortlessly and redirected the blade past him. Steel rang.
They moved.
Again and again.
Each exchange flowed into the next.
"You commit too much weight to the strike," Hound said while parrying another attack. "In a real fight that'll get you killed."
Before Quade could respond, Lorenzo attacked from the side. "Coming in hot!"
The twin blades blurred.
Quade pivoted smoothly and knocked both aside. "You're fast, shorty."
Lorenzo immediately looked offended. "Shorty?! I'll make you eat those words!"
The illusion appeared before Quade's sentence had even finished.
A fake Lorenzo rushed from one side.
The real one attacked from the other.
For half a second, the trick worked.
Then Quade adjusted.
Steel clashed again.
The sparring match quickly became chaotic.
Quade actually chuckled, a rare sound. "You talk too much in battle."
"That's my secret weapon!" Lorenzo shot back, launching another flashy combination.
Quade's movements remained disciplined and efficient while Lorenzo compensated with creativity, misdirection, and just enough insanity to make predicting him difficult.
Hound moved between both students, correcting mistakes while simultaneously fighting.
"Quade, wider stance!"
Their blades clashed.
"Lorenzo, breathe!"
More steel rang through the clearing.
"And stop trying to look cool!"
"Never, Master!"
A few minutes later, Hound stepped back and lowered his weapon, bringing the spar to an immediate halt. All three were breathing hard from the constant exchanges, sweat clinging to their clothes as they tried to steady themselves.
"Enough." The old adventurer glanced between his students before giving an approving nod. "Good work."
Lorenzo immediately grinned. "I know."
"Your creativity is your greatest strength," Hound continued. "You see opportunities where others see problems. Now refine it."
Lorenzo looked proud.
Hound turned toward Quade.
The former guardian of the cursed village straightened slightly, waiting for the verdict.
"Your foundation is excellent," Hound said. "Your form is disciplined, your footwork is solid, and your sword feels like an extension of your body."
For a moment, Quade simply stood there. Then a small smile appeared. It wasn't forced.
It was the first genuine smile Hound had seen from him since they met.
Across the clearing, Zyon watched everything carefully, already imagining how the massive battle hammer on his back and his golden light could fit into lessons like these.