CHAPTER 61: YOU WANT US TO QUIT?

Walking through the vast forest, a group of three figures moved silently between the trees.

At the front was the tallest among them—a man who looked the most mature. He wore a sleek black battlesuit, streaked with red markings that ran across it like a glowing circuit.

Trailing behind him were two younger figures.

One was a boy with short black hair and green eyes that held a fierce, unwavering determination—a strong will to survive that burned clearly in his gaze.

Beside him walked a girl with long blonde hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes shimmered with quiet resolve, scanning their surroundings with caution.

Though they followed closely behind the awakened one, they exchanged glances from time to time—uncertainty flickering between them. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the man leading them had no clear idea where he was going.

And just as they feared, the awakened abruptly came to a halt, his brow furrowed in frustration.

"Henry, Nasha. It’s getting late. We’ve finished our patrol, and I don’t sense any dangerous beasts nearby," Steven said, his voice steady but tinged with barely masked frustration. "We’ll camp here for the night—but stay alert. In the realms, danger doesn’t give warnings. It just happens."

Both kids could hear the irritation hidden beneath his calm demeanor.

’What the hell is going on this time?’ Steven fumed silently. ’Usually, we’d start with a basic realm—familiar terrain, some low-grade beasts. But now, this damn tower tosses us into the middle of nowhere... And these two weren’t even supposed to be my responsibility.’

Though he didn’t voice any of it, the exasperation in his expression was hard to miss.

Henry and Natasha noticed it. But neither said a word. They simply nodded and went about setting up camp in the small clearing they’d found. Despite walking for hours, not a single beast had shown up. That was unusual. Suspicious, even. But still, the area seemed quiet—for now.

The sun dipped behind a bank of clouds, casting dim shadows over the clearing. The three of them sat beneath a wide-canopied tree, spread apart in a silent triangle. No one made any effort to speak.

Henry cast a quick glance at Natasha, as if thinking of breaking the silence. But her expression was unreadable—cold and distant. He looked away immediately.

Instead, a different thought crossed his mind.

’What did Kieran do to make her act like that? What was she talking about back on the ship? She even... begged him.’

He replayed the scene in his mind: the way Natasha had approached Kieran, her strange behavior every time their paths crossed.

’There’s no way he did nothing to her,’ Henry concluded. She wasn’t acting like herself—and that only deepened his curiosity.

’Where is he now?’ he wondered, reaching into his bag to busy himself with gear maintenance.

Meanwhile, Natasha laid her blade beside her, its silver edges catching the last golden glint of daylight. She stared at it for a moment before her hand drifted to the amethyst pendant hanging from her neck.

She had ended up buying a different sword that day. Not because she wanted to—but because she had to.

Kieran had taken the one she was originally after.

’Why did Grandpa’s pendant react to that sword?’ she thought, fingers brushing against the gem. ’What was so special about it?’

The Garmine family—once a towering pillar of the Aurian elite—had long since fallen from grace. Her goal had always been clear: restore their name. Reclaim the prestige her ancestors once held. Prove herself.

But ever since that encounter with Kieran, doubt had started to creep in.

His words echoed in her mind like a sharp, biting wind.

"Says the arrogant girl who thinks she can buy everything with her money."

"When will you learn that not everything can be gotten with family influence... Maybe that’s partly why the Garmine family fell."

Each word rang like a bell, unsettling and loud. And in that moment, something inside her shifted.

Not just pride, but perspective.

Origin family or not, what truly mattered was the contribution one made to society.

At least, that was how it was supposed to be.

But the origin families had rotted from the inside out—bloated with power, obsessed with status. They no longer served the people; they only served themselves.

They had forgotten the very foundation of their influence: service.

"I shouldn’t be focused on reclaiming the Aurian name," Natasha whispered to herself, staring at the pendant resting against her chest. "I should build something better. A new legacy—different from what the others have become."

But no sooner had the resolve settled in her heart than his face flashed in her mind.

Her brow furrowed deeply.

"That idiot... Even if he was right, he’s still just as arrogant," she muttered, irritated at the memory of Kieran’s blunt words.

She tried to shove the thought away, but even glancing at Henry stirred the memory. It was frustrating—how his presence lingered even in absence.

’Where is he now? And what is he doing?’ she wondered, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

As the sun sank completely beneath the horizon, the forest grew darker. The sky stretched out like a vast, black canvas, sprinkled with twinkling stars.

Then—rustling.

A sharp movement in the bushes snapped everyone to attention.

Steven was on his feet in an instant, eyes narrowed toward the disturbance. Natasha grabbed her blade. Henry tensed, fists clenched, ready for a fight.

But it wasn’t a beast.

Emerging from the shadows was a boy with dark hair and darker eyes. His presence calm. Unshaken. And beside him, a shorter boy—pale and visibly shaken—clung to his side like a shadow.

Kieran.

"Sir Steven..." Kieran said, locking eyes with the man as if no one else existed.

Steven’s posture relaxed slightly upon recognizing him. Natasha’s grip on her sword loosened, though her jaw tightened.

Henry’s eyes lit up. "Kieran!"

But Natasha flinched.

’Why is he here?’ she scowled internally, her eyes involuntarily meeting his before she quickly looked away.

There was something in his gaze—an unwavering calm, a quiet storm of confidence—that always unsettled her. It made her feel... exposed.

She turned her back before he could notice. Or so she hoped.

Kieran, however, didn’t pay her any mind. His focus was entirely on Steven.

All eyes turned to him, waiting.

"Sir Steven," Kieran began, his voice firm, clear. "I suggest we quit the trial as soon as possible."

A heavy silence followed.

Steven blinked once. Then twice—processing the words.

"...What did you just say?" he asked, slowly, his tone turning sharp.

His expression twisted—first into confusion, then into clear irritation. Disgust, even.

"You want us to quit?"