The atmosphere felt oppressive, like a held breath. Vel sat on his hard seat, his gaze fixed on the bowl of plain gruel by the fire. Wisps of warmth drifted upwards, offering no comfort against the tightness in his chest.
To his right, Landre's typical cheer was replaced by a mask he couldn't decipher. She pushed at her meal with her spoon, but made no move to eat it. Her ever-present book sat beside her, ignored.
"We're taking Lady Halen's offer."
The statement settled over them like a quiet decree.
Mari paused mid-stir, her expression unreadable. "The house?"
Von nodded. "It's better than staying here. This camp is temporary, but we need something permanent."
Vel glanced at Landre, who was unusually quiet, her spoon barely touching her food.
"And the others?" she asked. "What about the people from Oakhaven?"
Von exhaled, rubbing his temples. "We've done what we could. But we need to take care of ourselves first."
A silence followed, thick and unyielding. The camp was splitting, some people trying to reclaim their old homes, others integrating into Elnor. Their family was choosing to move forward, and yet—something about it felt like leaving something behind.
Von stood abruptly, shaking off the conversation's weight. "I'll handle things with Lady Halen today. Vel—keep up your training. Landre, your duties at the church?"
Landre nodded wordlessly, adjusting the strap on her satchel. She picked up her book but didn't flip through it like usual. Instead, she simply held it, as if grounding herself.
"Vel-kun, don't slack off," she added before slipping away.
Vel nodded, but something about her demeanor felt... off. He couldn't shake the feeling as she walked away.
Instead of heading for practice, Vel found himself wandering toward the training square—toward Celia.
She was seated on a crate, watching the early merchants set up their stalls. When Vel called her name, she looked up with an expectant grin.
"You skipping training?" she teased.
Vel shook his head. "I need your help."
That got her attention. "Oh? With what?"
He hesitated. "Do you know where I can find books?"
Celia blinked. "…Books?"
Her reaction made him shift uncomfortably. "Yeah. History. Magic. Anything useful."
She tilted her head, studying him like he'd just asked where babies came from. "You're… studying?"
Vel rolled his eyes. "Is that so hard to believe?"
Celia smirked. "A little."
She hopped off the crate, hands on her hips. "Well, we have some books at the orphanage. Nothing fancy. Some history, a few adventure stories. Why? You trying to impress… someone?
Vel scoffed. "No, I just think knowing what happened in the past—understanding how things got this way—could be useful someday. You never know when you might need it."
Celia gave him a skeptical look but shrugged. "Alright, bookworm. Follow me."
They walked down the winding streets of Elnor, passing by merchants setting up their morning wares. The cool morning air carried hints of fresh bread and spices.
"You know, that means you'll see where I live," Celia said, nudging his arm.
Vel glanced at her. "And?"
She cleared her throat and looked away, her feet suddenly very interesting. "Nothing. Just don't say weird things when we get there."
A smirk tugged at Vel's lips. "What kind of weird things? Like what can I possibly find in your room?"
Red crept up Celia's cheeks. She crossed her arms, refusing to meet his gaze. The thought of inviting a boy to her private space clearly flustered her.
"Just so you know, I'm not going to show you my room," she declared firmly.
The orphanage loomed ahead, a modest structure of aged wood and worn shingles. Its appearance was plain, but it radiated warmth in the way a home did. Vel recognized the yard, where he had occasionally met Celia, but he'd never ventured inside.
Celia led him through the gate, her pace quickening as if to avoid drawing attention. Vel trailed after her, taking in the small garden patch near the entrance and the faint chatter of children coming from within.
The door creaked slightly as Celia pushed it open, revealing a small room that was more practical than grand. A sturdy table stood in the center. Against one wall, rested a single wooden shelf, held a handful of books, each one worn with use.
Celia gestured lazily. "Go on, take your pick. Just don't steal anything."
Vel ran his fingers across the spines, eyes catching on one title: "Lona and Its History."
Celia peeked over his shoulder. "That one's boring."
Vel ignored her, flipping open the first few pages.
The book painted a vivid picture—Lona, once a thriving capital, now trapped between two great powers. To the north, the Therian Empire—expansionist, aggressive, always watching. To the south, the Zunese Kingdom—wealthy, patient, waiting for its moment.
Lona had once flourished, but war and constant Rift activity drained its resources.
They adapted. The Church, the Royal, and the Guild became more than just institutions; they became the three major factions.
But one passage stood out:
"History speaks of a figure who stood alongside King Garnos, shaping Lona's fate. Yet, no name is recorded, only whispers of their influence. Some say they were a traveler, a guide, an anomaly within the world."
Vel's fingers tightened on the page. The Player.
Or… someone like that.
He exhaled sharply. If the world had no players anymore, then who was guiding it now? No endless cycle of adventurers farming dungeons and stabilizing the economy.
Celia, watching him closely, nudged his arm. "You're really into that book, huh?"
Vel barely looked up. "It's important."
She huffed, crossing her arms. "You could at least pretend I did you a favor by bringing you here."
Vel grinned. "Oh, right. Thanks, Celia. I'll dedicate my first book to you."
She rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless."
She straightened up from leaning over the table and stretched lazily before turning toward the door. "Alright, Mr. Bookworm," she said lightly, throwing a casual wave over her shoulder as she walked out. "I'll go see if Miss Althea has some tea or something… you look like you'll be stuck here for hours."
By the time Vel finished the book, miss Althea, the orphanage caretaker, approached with a kind smile, carrying two cups of tea.
"Celia's told me a lot about you."
Vel arched an eyebrow at Celia. She immediately looked away.
Althea chuckled. "It's rare to see someone interested in history like you. Most children only focus on survival."
"I swear, you're gonna turn into an old man at this rate," Celia muttered.
Vel took the cup of tea offered to him, feeling its warmth seep into his hands.
"I just want to understand things," he admitted.
Althea nodded. "That's a good trait to have. Especially for someone aiming for the Academy."
Althea sipped her tea thoughtfully. "You know, when children grow old enough, they must leave the orphanage. We provide a small sum of money to help them start their lives."
Vel's gaze flicked toward Celia. This was the first time he had heard about it.
"So when you leave," he said carefully, "you'll have to figure everything out on your own?"
Celia shrugged. "That's how it works."
Vel tilted his head. "The money? Where does it come from?"
"Lady Halen, the Lord of Elnor, funds most of our budget," Althea explained. "She believes in giving these children better futures. We also get donations from merchants, craftsmen, and travelers."
"And what do they do with it?" Vel asked, leaning back.
Althea's expression softened. "That depends on the child. Some apprentice to trades or start businesses. Others save for travel or education." She glanced at Celia meaningfully.
"Of course," she added, "not all choose wisely. Some waste it and struggle afterward." Her tone held resignation rather than judgment.
Vel frowned. If Celia failed to get into the Academy, what would she do?
He didn't like the thought of Celia being alone.
Vel stretched, closing the book. "I should head back."
Celia stood with him. "Yeah. It's getting late."
Vel bid farewell to Miss Althea with a polite bow. "Thank you for the tea."
At the doorway, Celia leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "Don't forget to return the book."
"I won't," he promised, stepping into the cooling afternoon air.
The orphanage door creaked shut behind him, muffling Celia and Althea's voices into distant murmurs. His footsteps echoed against the cobblestones as his mind churned with everything he'd learned.
The world had changed in ways he hadn't expected. Without players maintaining the balance, who would step up? The factions seemed to be holding things together, but for how long?
His thoughts drifted to Celia. She'd tried to play it cool, acting like her future didn't matter. But he'd caught those quick glances at the history book, the way she listened when Althea mentioned the Academy.
Vel's grip tightened on the worn leather cover. His drive to understand this world had started as survival—a way to protect himself and his family. Now, looking back at the orphanage's weathered walls, he realized it had become something more.
He wanted to help Celia find her path too. He wasn't about to let her face the unknown alone.
Von's shadow stretched long as he approached the tent, his stride steady, purposeful. Vel noticed him first, straightening instinctively under the weight of the sack he was hauling. Mari glanced up as well, pausing her work.
Von stopped in front of them, his gaze sweeping over the camp before settling on Mari. "Where's Landre?"
Mari wiped her hands on her apron, glancing toward the church district. "Probably still there."
Von nodded, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. His voice dropped slightly. "Lady Halen's made arrangements. A house in the residential area, southwest side. It'll take a bit to prepare, but we'll be able to move in tomorrow."
Vel blinked, adjusting his grip on the sack. Mari gave a faint nod, her relief barely showing.
"We'll let Landre know when she gets back," Von added. He exhaled, his gaze shifting across the camp. "One more thing," he continued, voice firm. "Lady Halen assigned me to the escort team. I won't be leading Oakhaven's people, but I'll be traveling with them once they're ready to move."
Mari stiffened but said nothing.
Von met their eyes. "I'll leave as soon as they give word."
His words lingered like an unspoken challenge—another responsibility, another departure. No room for argument, only acceptance.
Later that day, Vel sat outside their tent, knees drawn up, staring at the bustling camp. Three days. That was all the time they had before Von left again. He forced himself to push that thought aside. They had a home now—a fresh start.
His mind shifted to the Academy. If he wanted to go, he needed a plan. A job. Something to support himself in Lona, maybe serving at an inn or working odd tasks. It felt unfamiliar, but he had four years to figure it out.
Then there was combat. Kein and Celia were already ahead of him. Sparring had made that painfully clear. He had strategy, but without the strength and reflexes to match, he wouldn't stand a chance against real opponents.
He clenched his fists. Training wasn't optional.
And then there was tuition. Or scholarships. Did they even exist here? If so, he needed one.
Vel exhaled. It was strange, this feeling—excitement. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. The idea of studying, training, pushing forward... it wasn't just survival anymore. It was something more.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
For the first time since waking in this world, the future felt open—full of possibilities.
His stomach growled, pulling him back to reality. He shook his head and stood, dusting off his pants. No use sitting around.
Jogging toward Mari, he found her still working near a stack of crates. She glanced up as Vel approached.
"Back already?" she asked.
Vel nodded, eyeing the pile of supplies. "I want to help more."
Mari smiled faintly and handed him a bundle of frayed rope. "Start with this. Take it to Mr. Graham's group on the eastern side."
The weight wasn't much, but it grounded him—gave him purpose.
Vel looked over the lively settlement, where most people had collected their things in preparation for leaving. While he had said his goodbyes to numerous townsfolk, some had quietly left without a sound. Moments earlier, the Seer and Kazar had come by to say their farewells, speaking in riddles about how "Elnor is a place of beginning, they belong to the end and renewal."
By the time he finished another round of hauling supplies, sweat clung to his brow. He wiped it away, exhaling.
"Lan-neechan will want to hear about all this," he muttered.
But as he glanced toward the church district, unease settled in his chest.
She still wasn't back.
And the sun was already setting. This is unusual.
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering light against the worn canvas of the tent. Von sat with his arms crossed, staring into the flames, while Mari quietly mended a tear in one of Vel's shirts. Vel hugged his knees to his chest, absently tracing shapes in the dirt with a stick.
"Lan-neechan still isn't back," he finally said, breaking the heavy silence.
Von glanced at Mari, his brow furrowing. "She should've been here hours ago."
Mari paused her stitching and looked up, concern flashing in her eyes. "Landre's never out this late. Not without telling us."
Von stood abruptly, brushing off his trousers. His expression was unreadable but carried an edge that sent a chill through Vel. "We're checking the church."
Vel scrambled to his feet, following as Von strode purposefully through the camp. The cool night air bit at his skin as they passed quiet tents and dim lanterns. Shadows loomed tall and eerie in the moonlight.
End of Chapter 8.1