Avin stared at the spot where the hooded figure had vanished, the air still trembling faintly as if reality hadn't yet accepted his disappearance.He muttered under his breath, "What the hell was that?"

Behind him came the sound of someone gasping for dear life. He turned to see Henry bent over, hands braced on his knees, drenched in sweat like he'd just outrun a dragon.Avin's face twisted in confusion. "You didn't even do anything. Why are you—"

"I don't mean to be negative," Henry interrupted between breaths, "but I don't think that was a test." He inhaled sharply, then straightened up, still pale. "I think he really was trying to kill us."

Avin narrowed his eyes, wiping dust from his clothes. "You think?" he said dryly, then turned his back on him and walked toward the bush they had hidden behind earlier.

The ashes still lay there in strange, deliberate patterns—lines and circles intersecting in six-pointed geometry. The smell was faintly metallic. Avin crouched beside it, one knee in the dirt, examining it closely. He focused hard, trying to see if it would awaken any memory from the original Avin. Nothing. Just cold, silent dirt and the faint whisper of burnt air.

"Henry!" Avin called out, not looking up.

"Hmm?" Henry's head popped above the bush like some kind of nervous animal.

"Come check this out."

Henry pushed through the brush—and immediately tripped over a root, vanishing from sight with a muffled yelp.Avin exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

By the time Henry stumbled over, brushing twigs off his uniform, Avin was still crouched at the pattern. Henry joined him, folding his legs under him and squinting thoughtfully at the grey markings.

"Hmm," Henry hummed, rubbing his chin like a philosopher deep in thought.

Avin waited, patient for once.

"I've seen this somewhere before," Henry finally said.

Avin's attention sharpened. "Where?"

"In a book," Henry replied plainly.

Avin blinked, then frowned. "…And?"

Henry furrowed his brow, trying to recall. "That's the thing—I don't remember what it was about. Just that it was under some specific section."

He reached toward the ashes. "Maybe if I touch it—"

Avin slapped his own forehead and sighed. "Maybe don't." He stood, brushing off his knees. "Either way, we can't leave this here."

He used his boot to smear the ash, breaking the lines, erasing the geometry until the pattern lost its form. The air seemed to lighten a little.

"Let's go."

They pushed past the bushes, back into the clearing. The ground still bore scars from Avin's fight with Derrick—cracked earth, splintered wood, shallow gouges in the soil. A ghost of battle.

As they walked, Henry said, "I think I remember now why I didn't finish reading that section."

"Yeah?" Avin muttered, not particularly interested.

"It was outdated. Outmoded research—"

Henry stopped mid-sentence with a sharp, panicked gasp. "Ahhh!"

Avin spun, instinctively stepping back, hand on his sword. "What? What is it?"

Henry's eyes were huge, and his trembling finger pointed straight ahead—toward the window of the hall.

Avin followed his gaze.

There, pressed against the glass from inside, was a face.

The person's nose was flattened against the windowpane, fogging the surface with each heavy exhale. For a split second, Avin's heart skipped. His pulse thumped in his ear.

Then his eyes adjusted—and he realized who it was."Sylas?! What the hell are you doing?"

Sylas didn't respond. The glass muffled everything, and his face was still pressed awkwardly against it. He exhaled again, hot breath blooming fog over the surface.

Avin waved his arm in a sharp motion, signaling him to come outside—palm up, curling his fingers twice in a "get over here" gesture, his brows knitting in irritation. He mouthed clearly, "Come out here."

Sylas blinked, then nodded. His face disappeared from the window.

A moment later, the door creaked open. Sylas peeked his head out first, scanning left, then right, his body still half-hidden behind the frame."Are they here?" he asked cautiously.

Avin blinked, confused. He means Derrick and the others."No," he said simply, shaking his head.

Sylas exhaled in relief and stepped out fully. "Phew. Thought you two got captured." His gaze drifted from Avin to Henry.

Henry brightened and stepped forward, extending his hand with a grin. "Hi, I'm Henry!"

Sylas hesitated, then shook it. "...Sylas."

When their hands parted, Sylas looked down at his palm—it was slick with sweat. He glanced up at Henry, unimpressed.

"Oh, sorry," Henry said sheepishly. "Still sweating from almost dying to a dagger."

Sylas froze, his expression blank. "What?"

"Well," Avin began, but before he could continue, Henry's voice rose to drown him out.

"We were walking from our quarters!" Henry said, voice loud and unconvincing. Avin just closed his mouth, jaw tight.

Henry kept going, smiling way too much for someone describing an attempted murder. "We were just talking about mana differences—you know, how people blow up if they mix types—and then we saw this guy through the window. He looked suspicious, so we thought maybe it was, like, a test to see how we'd react?"

Sylas tilted his head. "A test?"

"Yeah!" Henry said. "So we went to check it out. He was drawing some kind of pattern with ash, but when he saw us, he attacked. But don't worry, with my quick thinking—and Avin's support—we managed to chase him off."

Avin's eye twitched. Support?He clenched his jaw but said nothing. The story was technically true—if you didn't mind hearing it from the perspective of a delusional hero.

"He was really trying to kill us," Henry finished.

"So it wasn't a test then," Sylas said slowly.

"Go figure," Avin muttered.

"Yeah," Henry added with a nod. "Oh, and he stole my sword."

Sylas blinked. "That's… sad. Anyway—you said there was a pattern?"

"Yeah," Henry replied quickly. "Want to see?"

"Show me."

They led him back behind the bush. Sylas crouched beside the smeared remnants, eyes narrowing as he examined the faint traces of the grey ash.

The moment his gaze focused, his pupils tightened. His expression changed—from confusion to something else entirely.

He looked up at Avin sharply, voice quiet but heavy. "Who made this?"

Avin stared back at him.

He didn't answer. Not immediately.

"It seems…" he muttered under his breath, "he does know."

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