Our journey remained peaceful. The road was quiet, the air cooling as the sun climbed. We successfully distanced ourselves from Hayem without incident, the tension finally bleeding out of my shoulders.
By morning, we reached the town of Kitam. Much like Hayem, it was a prosperous place with a vibrant community, but being an open city, it felt lighter. The gates stayed wide for travelers of all races and origins.
I let out a long sigh and stretched my aching muscles, my joints popping after the long trek. I wasn't sure if I was nervous or excited, but looking at the bustling market stalls, I knew I had to accept that my world had changed. I was no longer just an ordinary town guard walking a familiar beat.
"This is the first time I've ever set foot in another town," I mused, watching a merchant haggle over a crate of spices.
We headed inside to explore. Over a hot meal at a local tavern—the smell of roasted meat a welcome change from trail rations—we discussed our itinerary. Our plan was to find transport to Igarta, where we could catch a ship bound for the eastern side of Basin Province. The journey to Igarta would take three days—no easy feat.
"The next transport doesn't leave until tomorrow," I noted, checking the schedule posted near the door. "We'll have to spend the night here." I turned to my companion. "Is there anywhere you want to go or anything you want to buy, Lavender?"
Ora emerged from her crystal in a flash of light, her voice sharp enough to cut the air. "You don't need to waste time in this town. You've seen enough. Don't tell me you're going to spend your whole day flirting with this cat girl? Did you rescue her from Hayem just to have someone to date?"
Heat rushed to my face, stinging my cheeks. I quickly denied it, my fork hovering mid-air. I had no intention of "dating" Lavender, but what else were we supposed to do in a new town with no available transport? I argued that it wasn't my fault the carriages weren't running yet.
"Listen, Aren," Ora countered, crossing her arms. "I don't care about your personal life, but I'd appreciate it if you finished your mission before focusing on your love life. You're still weak. You should be training while we're stuck here."
She also criticized me for being overly protective of Lavender, treating her like a princess when she was a Musang capable of fighting. She insisted that aggression was natural for Lavender's race and that we should be utilizing her strength.
"All I'm saying is she needs to learn to use her power so she can actually be useful to us," Ora added.
I immediately told Ora to stop speaking ill of Lavender and calling her a burden. My chest tightened with a protective instinct. "She isn't a burden, and we shouldn't force her to fight if she doesn't want to."
Lavender interjected, her voice quiet but firm. She said she was ready to learn how to fight if necessary. She admitted she lacked formal training, having relied only on raw strength and speed while hunting in the forest.
"I want to be useful to Master Aren," Lavender pleaded, her ears twitching slightly. "I don't know if I'll be any good, but please, Master Aren... let me train with you."
I placed a hand on her head, feeling the soft fur and the slight tremble of her resolve. I apologized for Ora's harsh words. I truly wanted her to have a peaceful life, far removed from the days when her previous master forced her to hunt like a beast.
"But Ora has a point," I admitted. "Having the ability to defend yourself is important for your own safety."
The Training Ground
We agreed to train after our meal. We looked for a training facility in town, but the locals told us the best place to practice without interruption was at the foot of the nearby mountain. After stocking up on supplies—water skins and some whetstones—we headed there, choosing a wide, open clearing where the grass was short and no one would be hurt if Lavender lost control of her power.
"This should be safe, Lavender. You can use your Celestial Item here," I said.
Lavender looked nervous but determined. She closed her eyes and concentrated, her breathing slowing. Ora began coaching her on how to sense and command the Celestial Item.
"You must recognize each other," Ora explained, her tone more clinical now. "Accept the item, and as its master, it will obey your will."
As Lavender focused, a piece of battle gear began to materialize in her hands: a Claw Gauntlet glowing with violet fire. The flames flared around her in a swirling vortex before being sucked into the weapon.
I praised her for successfully summoning her Celestial Item. Her face lit up with wonder and relief that nothing had gone wrong.
"That is the Claw of the Internal Flame," Ora stated. "It allows you to manipulate fire."
Ora explained that the violet fire was special—it wouldn't extinguish as long as it had energy to feed on. However, she warned Lavender that the weapon would drain her energy rapidly. Lavender's own essence acted as the fuel for the flames.
"I saw her use it before," I recalled, the memory of the fight still vivid. "Even when she was impaled and lost an arm, she kept attacking. I think the item makes her nearly immortal as long as she has energy left."
Lavender continued to practice, eventually enveloping her entire body in the violet shroud. She moved with the speed and ferocity of a tiger, darting across the clearing in a blur of purple light. She stopped in front of me, the flames receding from her face, leaving her flushed.
"I can control it now, Master Aren! It's not going wild like before," she said happily.
The flames vanished, absorbed back into the crystal on her gauntlet. Lavender looked exhausted, her shoulders sagging.
"Your Celestial Item takes a lot out of you," I said. "You should rest." I wiped the sweat from her face with a towel and handed her some water.
"Thank you, Master Aren."
Ora flared up in annoyance at my behavior. "We've only been at it for two hours and you're already stopping? You won't get stronger if you spend your training sessions playing house!"
"We aren't 'playing house,'" I snapped back. "It's only natural for me to look after her health. She's my responsibility."
Ora wasn't convinced. She argued that my focus on Lavender was causing me to neglect my own training. She reminded me that I couldn't rely solely on the Time Sword, as its use was limited. I needed to be able to fight on my own.
I knew she was right. My energy reserves were still too low to use the Time Sword effectively in a prolonged fight, and I lacked real combat experience. To appease her, I told her I'd get back to work.
Ora commanded Lavender to practice maintaining her flame for longer durations. "If you can only last five minutes in a fight, you won't stand a chance against a skilled warrior."
As for me, Ora put me through a grueling regimen: lifting boulders weighing nearly a hundred kilos and running up the mountainside until my lungs burned to build my stamina.
"Alright, boss. Whatever you say," I sighed, getting to work.
The Strays of the Street
We spent the entire day at the mountain. By late afternoon, as we headed back to town to find an inn, we encountered a group of children begging in the street. The orange glow of the sunset cast long, thin shadows over them. Three young girls approached us, asking for food. We were shocked to see that they were Musangs, just like Lavender.
"There are other Musangs here?" I whispered.
Lavender explained that when Musang clans clash and their leaders fall, those left behind are often abandoned. Since many Musangs struggle to integrate into human society, they find it difficult to secure work, often ending up impoverished or homeless.
Lavender knelt and patted one of the girls on the head. "Where are your parents? Why are you out here alone?"
The children explained they were orphans. They lived in the church's storehouse but were only allowed inside at night, meaning they had to wander the streets all day. One of them begged for food, saying they hadn't eaten since morning.
Lavender looked at me with pleading eyes. Even without words, I knew she wanted to help.
"Let's go buy you something to eat," I said.
The children cheered, and Lavender bowed to me in gratitude. Even though she didn't know them, she understood their pain perfectly.
As we walked toward a restaurant, I noticed several posters plastered on the stone walls. One caught my eye: a public notice about a group of criminals scheduled for execution by beheading in the town plaza. The group, known as the Black Raven, had been captured by the government.
"An execution... well, I suppose there are plenty of bandits in these parts," I muttered, not thinking much of it.
Inside the restaurant, we ordered a large meal for the children. They ate hungrily, thanking us with every bite. "Make sure to take some leftovers with you so you have something for tonight," I told them.
One of the girls grabbed Lavender's hand. "Are you from the Catusai clan?"
The girl explained that the Catusai was their original clan, but the sisters at the church said the clan shattered when the leader disappeared. They were left with no one. People refused to adopt them because they were "always hungry."
"The sisters said we need to find another Musang clan to take us in," the girl whispered. "Can we come with you?"
Lavender looked down, apologetic. She explained she wasn't from their clan and didn't belong to any clan at all. She told them she was just traveling with me—her Master—and had no way to truly provide for them.
I could see the heartbreak in her eyes. She looked at me again, her silence a heavy plea for me to find a solution.
I scratched my head, conflicted. "If they have no one else, they'll definitely struggle to survive here..."
Ora erupted in anger, her form shimmering brightly. "Wait just a minute! I don't like where this is going. Are you seriously thinking of adopting these kids just because she wants you to?" She pointed an accusatory finger at Lavender.
"Don't talk to her like that," I defended. "She's one of us now."
"Be quiet! She hasn't done anything to earn my favor yet, and I feel like you're just following her every whim!" Ora snapped. She reminded me that our mission involved constant travel and extreme danger; bringing children along would be a disaster.
I knew Ora was right. I couldn't just adopt them. But my conscience was gnawing at me. Looking at those kids, I saw myself—a street urchin who had to work at a young age just to survive.
"It's not just about Lavender," I argued. "I lived that life, Ora. I know how hard it is to be a stray on the streets."
I insisted we couldn't just abandon them. Ora was livid, asking why I couldn't just focus on the mission. "Aren't you satisfied with looking after one person? What is your plan, exactly?"
"I'm still human, Ora. I can't just let them suffer," I replied.
Ora let out a long, defeated sigh. She told me I could help if I wanted, but I had no right to complain if this responsibility led to our downfall.
"Thank you, Ora," I said with a smile.