The sun was already high when the caravan finally rolled back into Camp Tile.

  Gray walked beside the empty cart, boots kicking up dust along the river road.

  His pack was heavier now — the payment pouch and the bundled monster parts they had harvested from the carcass.

  Tamemoto stayed close on his left, small practice blade at his belt, eyes scanning the familiar huts and tents with quiet relief. Gauis walked a few paces ahead, posture straight despite the exhaustion in his shoulders.

  Camp Tile looked the same as when they left — smoke rising from cook fires, the constant murmur of voices from the market square, the Tile River glittering under the midday light. Travelers moved along the road in both directions. A new caravan from the east was already setting up near the watch post. Life here never stopped.

  Before they could separate from the main group, the guard captain and the thin merchant approached.

  The captain — a broad-shouldered man named Captain Harlan — stopped in front of them. His armor was still dusty from the road, but his eyes were sharp and respectful as he looked at Gray.

  “You fought well out there, lad,” Harlan said. “I saw how you handled those scavengers and the big one near the end. Most boys your age would’ve frozen. You didn’t. You used the ground, the dust, everything. That’s rare.”

  The merchant nodded beside him. “We’ve lost good men to lesser threats. You and your brother held your own. Impressive.”

  Gray stayed quiet. He felt Tamemoto shift slightly beside him, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

  Harlan continued.

  “We’re a regular route — Ryūmon to Rift Spire and back. But more than that… I serve the Kingdom of Avalon. The 13 Seats of the Round Table are always looking for promising young talent. You have the instincts. The cold focus. If you ever want to train under us — to one day stand among the Seats — the door is open. We pass through Camp Tile a couple more times this year. Think about it.”

  Gray looked at Gauis.

  His step-father met his gaze for a brief second — steady, unreadable.

  Gray turned back to the captain.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly. “But I’ll stay here.”

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  Harlan studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Fair enough. If you ever change your mind, the offer stays open.”

  The merchant added a few extra copper coins to the payment pouch as a gesture of respect before they turned and walked back to the wagons.

  Gauis didn’t say anything. He simply placed a hand on Gray’s shoulder for a moment — firm, approving — then motioned toward the riverbank.

  “Let’s go home.”

  They fetched Rebecca from the merchant group that had watched over her. She was waiting on the porch, looking thinner than when they left, but her eyes lit up the moment she saw them.

  The four of them walked the short path back to their hut in silence.

  Inside, the air smelled of river herbs and the faint smoke from the morning fire. Rebecca set out water and a small meal while Gauis sat at the low table.

  Gray and Tamemoto sat across from him.

  Gauis spoke first, voice low.

  “Some stuff happened on the road,” he said simply. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. We’re all back. That’s what matters.”

  Gray nodded once. Tamemoto did the same.

  Rebecca watched them carefully. She could feel the tension in the air — the way Gray’s shoulders were still tight, the way Tamemoto kept touching the hilt of his blade. She opened her mouth as if to ask more, but Gauis gave her a subtle look.

  She closed it again, though her eyes lingered on Gray a moment longer.

  Gauis turned to the boys.

  “Take the monster parts to the scrap yard and the market. Sell what you can. We’ll need the coin for the next few weeks.”

  Gray stood without argument. Tamemoto followed.

  As the two brothers left the hut, Rebecca and Gauis were left alone.

  Rebecca waited until the door closed. Then she turned to Gauis, voice soft but urgent.

  “You’re stretching yourself again,” she said. “I can see it in the way you move. The pain in your arm… it’s worse than before we left.”

  Gauis didn’t deny it. He just leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.

  Rebecca’s eyes softened with worry. “You used to tell me stories about your family in Avalon. How they trained you. How they expected you to become one of the Twelve Swords one day. You never talk about them anymore.”

  Gauis stared at the knife on the table for a long moment.

  His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet.

  “Some things are better left in the past.”

  Outside, Gray and Tamemoto walked side by side toward the scrap yard.

  The market square was busy as always.

  Voices rose and fell.

  The smell of grilled fish and river herbs filled the air.

  Gray glanced at his younger brother.

  Tamemoto was quieter than usual, still processing everything that had happened on the road.

  Gray spoke first, voice low.

  “We need to be stronger.”

  Tamemoto looked up at him.

  Gray continued, eyes on the path ahead.

  “Not just for food. Not just for medicine. For everything. The world out there… it doesn’t care. We have to be ready.”

  Tamemoto nodded slowly. His small hand tightened around the hilt of his practice blade.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I won’t freeze next time.”

  Gray didn’t reply.

  But inside, the weight settled deeper.