After regaining some energy, Rayne freshened up inside the house before stepping out with his packed belongings.

"Thank you for your hospitality these past days."

Standing before Porlyusica, Rayne bowed slightly, his tone sincere.

"Hmph. I just didn't want you wasting time here," she scoffed, raising a hand to cut him off, her voice dripping with impatience. "The sooner you finish your training and leave, the sooner I get my peace back."

"Mm-hmm."

Used to her attitude, Rayne's smile didn't waver. He'd remember her kindness regardless of her words.

"Take this. It's just taking up space."

Porlyusica's frown deepened at his nonchalance, but she had no retort. Instead, she shoved a jar into his hands—filled with dried fruits she'd prepared over the days.

The intended recipient was obvious.

"Heh~"

Rayne's lips quirked at her feigned indifference. But when he glanced down at Conna, the little dragon's eyes were locked onto the jar, her tiny fists clutching his clothes so tightly the fabric strained. A faint, desperate whimper escaped her.

"Conna, what do we say?" Rayne prompted quickly before his shirt met its doom.

"Thank you, Granny Porlyusica!"

Snapping out of her trance, Conna bowed deeply.

"Just go. And don't come back to bother me."

With a dismissive wave, Porlyusica turned on her heel and marched inside, slamming the door behind her.

"Let's head back. You'll need time to clean your place," Makarov finally spoke, having watched the exchange in silence. After fifteen days vacant, dust was inevitable.

"Right."

Cradling the jar, Rayne followed the Guild Master. Behind them, Conna paused to wave at the closed door.

"Bye-bye, Granny Porlyusica~!"

Her sweet voice carried through the wood before she toddled after Rayne.

"...Hmph."

On the other side, Porlyusica's stern face softened—just a little—into something almost resembling a smile.

The trio's pace was far swifter than an average traveler's. By the time they reached Magnolia, the sun still hung lazily in the sky.

Rayne navigated the familiar streets with ease, soon arriving at the guildhall. The sight of the well-worn building stirred something in his chest.

"Loser buys the drinks!"

"Bring it on! Last time was a fluke!"

"My bet's on Wakaba! You're going down!"

"Oh, you wanna fight?!"

Even before stepping inside, the rowdy clamor of Fairy Tail washed over him. The noise was chaotic, yet inexplicably… comforting.

"Hey! Rayne's back!"

Someone's shout turned heads. The guild's usual frenzy paused as members peered toward the entrance.

"Lookin' sharp, kid! Proper mage material now!"

"Training's over already?"

"Not bad! Still not as strong as me, though—HAH!"

"Pfft, bragging to a kid? Fight me instead, coward!"

The racket doubled. As one of the guild's youngest—and most level-headed—Rayne had carved out a place among them. His return sparked genuine cheers.

"Waaah! Connaaaa! I missed you~!"

Carolyn's squeal cut through the noise as she barreled forward.

"..."

Conna froze under the onslaught of affection before ducking behind Rayne, burying her face in his clothes. With violence off the table, the dragon had no defense against such enthusiasm.

"Aww…" Carolyn wilted but didn't push further.

"She doesn't know how to handle you when you're like this," Rayne chuckled.

Carolyn eyed him, noting the changes. He'd grown taller—now reaching her chest—his boyish features sharpening into something more refined. The glint in his eyes held a new edge, unmistakably a mage's.

"Not bad~ Starting to look the part. A bit skinny, though. Training must've been rough." She grinned, clapping his shoulder with her usual brightness.

"Skinny?"

Rayne glanced down. If anything, his muscles had outgrown his clothes.

Shaking it off, he nodded toward the request board. "I'll check for jobs."

He hadn't come straight to the guild just to socialize. Securing a job now meant he could depart first thing tomorrow.

Carolyn blinked, then shot a look at Makarov—now sipping ale at the bar. His lack of protest confirmed Rayne had his approval.

Half a month, and the kid's already earned the old man's trust?

"Go for it. Just pick something safe," she said, stepping aside.

For the first time, no one blocked his path.

The request board spanned an entire wall, its cork surface pockmarked by countless pin holes. Dozens of notes and parchments—some crisp, others yellowed—were haphazardly tacked on.

Sloppy scrawls sat beside elegant calligraphy, each whisper of ink and aged paper blending with the guild's ale-scented air. It was a mosaic of needs and desperation, a mercenary's marketplace.

Rayne exhaled, the thrill of adventure prickling under his skin.

Time to find his first real job.