CHAPTER 3— A PLACE THAT BREATHES
It had been days since the small creature, the first thing he had killed, and since then the forest seemed to hide from him. Nothing moved close enough for him to strike, no rustle of fur or snap of bone, only the occasional shift of leaves that made him tense.
His stomach tightened with hunger that wasn't urgent but constant, and he pressed his lips together, moving carefully, one step after another, feeling the soil beneath his feet gradually change, firmer now, less uneven.
As the trees thinned, he noticed light spilling through, shapes too straight to be wild, a hint of something made. His eyes narrowed, following the path that had opened before him as if the forest itself had decided he could leave.
Voices came next, muffled and fragmented at first, carried on air that smelled faintly of smoke and baked bread. People moved with a rhythm that belonged to habit and routine, clothes clean and worn with purpose, laughter and urgency blending into words he didn't fully catch.
"…hurry…"
"…it's time…"
"…core test…"
"…don't fall behind…"
Leylin slowed, but he didn't stop. He watched, noting how movement worked here, how humans flowed like water in a channel.
He realized the path beneath his feet wasn't natural either. The stones were laid with care, flat and precise, guiding him forward without effort. He followed it anyway.
The clearing revealed itself gradually. Houses rose on either side with tiled roofs and muted walls, stalls lined with fabrics, the scent of food and smoke and wood mixing into something alive and warm.
Children ran between legs. Adults argued, laughed, bargained. Chaos, but not uncontrolled.
Leylin stepped into it carefully.
He felt the difference immediately.
Their clothes were whole. His were not.
But it wasn't just that.
Most of them wore layered garments, robes that weren't loose or decorative but structured, tied close at the waist, sleeves fitted enough to allow movement. Some had light armor beneath, others carried themselves with a quiet certainty that didn't match ordinary people.
Martial,disciplined
The crowd flowed around him as if he had always been part of it.
A sign hung above one of the shops, carved wood polished smooth with age.
Pearl Pavilion.The fabrics outside were arranged with care, rows straight, colors muted, nothing excessive
Leylin stepped inside,before his hand touched anything, a voice reached him.
"Ah..easy, easy, don't grab like that, you'll think it's just cloth if you rush it."
The man waddled closer, heavy steps, breath slightly uneven. He was round, not from strength but comfort, robes stretched just enough to show it. His eyes, however, were sharp.
Leylin didn't respond. His fingers brushed the fabric anyway.
Rough. Durable
He moved to the next.
Smoother. Lighter.
"Mm," the man continued, circling him slowly, not close enough to crowd, not far enough to ignore, "hands are rough… not calloused like a worker, more like… scraped. Fresh."
Leylin's hand stilled for half a second, then continued
.
"Fingernails, dirt packed under… not old either. Forest soil."
Leylin said nothing.
The man leaned slightly, peering without shame.
"Hair's still holding moisture… dew maybe. And that smell…" he waved a hand lightly, not mocking, just stating, "…you didn't come from far. Just came out."
Leylin picked up another piece of cloth. He pressed it lightly between his fingers.
Warm. Or maybe thick.
"…and you walked in like that," the man went on, tone almost amused now, "so either you're stupid…"
He paused.
"…or strong."
Leylin looked up.
"What does that mean?"
The man grinned slightly, unfazed
"Strong ones don't rush. They look first. You've been touching everything like you're memorizing it."
Leylin held his gaze for a moment.
Then looked back at the cloth.
He continued moving along the row, slower now, noting stitching, weight, balance.
"You're here for the core test, yeah?" the man added, adjusting a hanging robe absentmindedly.
Leylin glanced at him.
"What test?"
The man blinked
"…you're serious."
Leylin didn't answer.
"They check your core," the man said, tone shifting slightly, less playful now, "where it forms. Abdomen for most. Heart if you're lucky. Mind…" he clicked his tongue, "…rare."
Core...leylin listened.
"And if it doesn't form?"
The man snorted lightly.
"Then you wasted your time walking in here."
Nothing...the word didn't need to be said again.
Leylin picked a set of clothes. Simple. Close-fitting. Similar enough to what others wore.
He changed without asking.
The fabric settled better. Balanced. Easier to move in.
He stepped out.
"Oi..payment!"
The man's voice cut off as the crowd swallowed Leylin whole.
"…troublesome brat," the man muttered behind him.
Leylin didn't look back.
He moved through the crowd again.
Core. Abdomen. Heart. Mind.
The words repeated, but something about them didn't sit right.
He kept walking...then it clicked.
The creatures he killed.
The way they broke.
There had been nothing inside them.
No center. No core. No resistance beyond flesh.
Leylin slowed slightly.
So what were they?
The thought stayed unfinished.
The crowd thickened ahead. More people gathered in one direction, voices rising with anticipation.
The test.
Leylin lifted his gaze and followed.
Not because he understood.
Because he didn't.
And for now, that was enough.