By the following afternoon, Edrin had come to a new and very specific conclusion:
Fame was exhausting.
"I don't think I'm built for this," he muttered, ducking behind a stack of wooden crates near the edge of the village.
"You're not built for most things," Lyra replied, standing nearby with her usual calm composure.
"That feels unnecessarily consistent."
Edrin peeked over the crates.
Villagers were still gathered in the square, talking excitedly, occasionally pointing in his general direction like he was some kind of rare and mildly confusing animal.
"They're still looking for me," he whispered.
"You are the chosen hero."
"I regret being chosen."
"You've mentioned that."
"Several times."
Lyra crossed her arms. "Hiding won't help."
"It's helping me emotionally."
Before she could respond, a new voice cut through the noise.
Loud.
Confident.
And, for some reason, laughing.
"Wait—this is him? This is the hero?!"
Edrin slowly lowered himself behind the crates again.
"I don't like that tone," he said.
Lyra turned toward the voice.
A man stood at the edge of the square, tall and relaxed, with a sword resting casually over his shoulder. His grin was wide, amused—like he had just stumbled into the most entertaining situation of his life.
Which, Edrin suspected, he had.
"That's the chosen one?" the man repeated, clearly trying not to laugh—and failing.
Edrin sighed. "I feel judged."
"You are being judged," Lyra said.
The man walked closer, looking Edrin up and down with open curiosity.
"…You don't look like much," he said.
Edrin nodded. "That's because I'm not much."
The man laughed. "At least you're honest."
Lyra stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The man gave a casual bow—more theatrical than respectful.
"Ronan," he said. "Swordsman. Traveler. Occasional problem-solver."
Edrin raised a hand slightly. "I am frequently the problem."
Ronan grinned. "I can see that."
Lyra studied him carefully. "What are you doing here?"
"Heard rumors," Ronan replied. "Invaders. A chosen hero. Figured I'd take a look."
He glanced back at Edrin.
"…Wasn't expecting this, though."
Edrin gestured vaguely at himself. "No one ever is."
Ronan stepped closer. "So, is it true?"
Edrin blinked. "Is what true?"
"You defeated them."
Edrin hesitated.
Lyra answered instead. "He did."
"Accidentally," Edrin added quickly.
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "You accidentally kill monsters from another world?"
"Yes."
"…I like him," Ronan said.
Lyra sighed. "That makes one of you."
"Hey," Ronan said, still smiling, "I'm not saying he's impressive."
"Thank you."
"But if he's actually landing hits on Invaders…" Ronan's expression sharpened slightly, curiosity replacing humor. "Then there's something interesting going on."
Edrin shifted uncomfortably. "I prefer uninteresting."
"Too late for that," Ronan said.
He lowered his sword from his shoulder and planted it lightly into the ground.
"Show me," he said.
Edrin blinked. "Show you what?"
"How you fight."
"…Poorly?"
Ronan grinned. "Perfect. I want to see it."
Lyra stepped aside, clearly allowing this.
Edrin looked between them.
"…This feels like a trap."
"It's training," Lyra said.
"That's what worries me."
Ronan stepped back, giving him space. "Come on. Don't hold back."
"I have nothing to hold back."
"Even better."
Edrin sighed deeply, picking up his sword.
"Alright," he said. "But I'm warning you—this is not going to be impressive."
Ronan's grin widened.
"I'm counting on it."
Edrin took a breath.
Stepped forward—
And swung.
Ronan moved instantly.
Effortless.
The blade passed through empty air.
Edrin spun slightly, barely keeping his balance.
"…That went about as expected," he said.
Ronan laughed. "You're terrible."
"I've been told."
"But…" Ronan added, stepping closer, eyes sharper now, "you're not as slow as you should be."
Edrin blinked. "That's oddly specific."
Ronan circled him. "Do it again."
Edrin hesitated—
Then moved.
This time, his swing was quicker.
Still clumsy.
Still flawed.
But faster.
Ronan blocked it easily—but his grin shifted, just slightly.
"…There it is," he murmured.
Edrin lowered his sword. "There what?"
Ronan looked at him with a new kind of interest.
"You're learning mid-fight," he said.
Edrin frowned. "I am?"
Lyra nodded. "I told you."
Ronan let out a short laugh. "This just got interesting."
Edrin pointed at both of them. "I don't like it when people say that."
Ronan pulled his sword free from the ground.
"Good," he said. "Because I think I'm sticking around."
Edrin froze. "…Why?"
Ronan's grin returned.
"Because watching you might be the most entertaining thing I've ever seen."
Lyra rolled her eyes.
Edrin groaned.
"…This is getting worse."
But somewhere beneath the embarrassment—
Beneath the confusion—
Something else was growing.
Not just strength.
Not just skill.
But attention.
And this time—
It wasn't just the Invaders watching him.