The carriage rolled on.
Hooves thudded against packed earth. Wheels creaked with the weary stiffness of old bones.
And the wind—it didn't whistle. It whispered. As if something just out of sight was keeping pace.
Not creepy at all. Nope. Totally normal forest stuff.
The road to Nexus City was supposed to take six days.
Keyword: supposed.
But apparently, we're not taking the direct route.
Because someone (read: Kevin) decided we needed a scenic detour—and I'm pretty sure we have very different definitions of scenic.
When I say scenic, I mean definitely cursed.
The sky was blue. Birds chirped.
But the trees?
Too quiet. Too still. Felt them listening.
Lyra perched at the edge of her seat, one hand braced on the window frame, eyes locked on the blur of trees—like she was waiting for one to blink back.
She hadn't said a word all morning. Not even to me.
She looked like she'd slipped into a deep-thought coma.
Weird. And concerning.
Levin sat across from her, tapping his knee and humming a tune so off-key it had to be homemade.
He kept sneaking glances—at the trees, then at Lyra—as if checking whether bravery still clung to his shoulders or had slipped off somewhere. His grin? Pure side-quest energy.
This boy thought traveling with Lyra was the start of a romcom arc.
And me?
I was dangling from Lyra's neck, a fashionably nervous pendant.
With how bumpy this road is, the sofa's about to get me dice-drunk on fluffiness, bro.
"You're sure this road still ends at Nexus City, right?" I asked, purely for legal reasons.
Kevin, driving up front, didn't look back.
"Yeah. We're taking the long way—stopping by Fosagi forest first."
"Oh, great. I love detours. Especially the kind labeled mana anomaly zone."
Kevin kept his eyes ahead, his voice calm, the tone of someone reciting a grocery list.
"I'm not letting them walk into the Guild's evaluation like clueless rabbits. If they flop, it's on me—I'm the one recommending them."
"So we're what? Grinding EXP in the haunted woods?"
"Exactly," Kevin said. "Life and death. Real battle experience. I'll only step in if things get truly out of hand."
"Define truly." I asked him dead serious.
He didn't answer.
Which meant we were definitely going to die.
Perfect.
Lyra still hadn't spoken.
And just like that, the adventure began.
We weren't just passengers anymore.
We were party members.
And the world had noticed.
Then—
Lyra screamed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"
Full volume. Full intensity. Like her soul had decided it was time to evacuate.
Levin flailed in front of her, flinging himself into a defensive pose that protected absolutely nothing.
Kevin moved before anyone else could breathe.
The reins snapped—horses froze mid-step, steam huffing from their nostrils.
Then, in a blur, he launched upward.
Mana pulsed.
He vaulted from the driver's bench in a double backflip. At the peak, he twisted his hand.
A faint click—his mana ring flared, light fracturing into razor-thin glass slivers that spun around his arm.
In a blink, they forged steel.
He summoned his bastard sword mid-air.
He landed hard on the carriage roof. Boots steady. Blade drawn.
Pure anime protagonist energy—didn't even blink.
No pose. No boast. Just ready.
For one breathless moment, the forest went still.
If cool needed a definition, this man just wrote it—in midair.
Kevin's face was dead serious—composed, balanced, alert.
But beneath it, wariness simmered.
If something managed to slip past his senses, the enemy wasn't just dangerous—they were lethal.
Lyra's scream had definitely set him on edge.
He scanned her—checking for wounds, panic signs—then swept the woods, senses pushed to their limit.
Still nothing. Silence.
Then, from below—
"Oh no no no, I'm so stupid, stupid, stupid!!" Lyra groaned.
"What happened?" I asked, bracing for the worst.
"I forgot to bring my diary! I've been thinking about it all morning—I knew I was forgetting something important! And of course, it was my diary! Kevin, can we go back?? I need it!"
"…You screamed like that because you forgot your diary?"
"Yes."
......…
As usual Kevin looked like he aged another year.
Later...
Kevin scanned the woods one last time, then dropped down from the roof of the carriage without a word.
He landed silently, brushing off his coat.
Before anyone could ask, he spoke.
"I scanned a monster up ahead," he said flatly. "You two, prepare yourselves. I won't help."
Levin blinked. "Wait, what kind of—?"
Kevin was already walking. "You'll find out soon."
I glanced up at Lyra—yes, up, since I was still swinging from the chain around her neck like the world's most anxious accessory.
She hadn't said a word since the diary meltdown. Simmering in pure, undistilled rage.
Yeah. She was definitely pissed about forgetting that diary.
Muttering under her breath. Eyes locked forward.
Honestly? She was kinda terrifying like this.
We stepped off the trail—and there it was.
A monster stood in the clearing.
Muscles rippled beneath iridescent fur that shimmered with an oily sheen.
Thick tusks curled upward, faintly glowing with embedded arcana.
Its hooves scorched the earth with every step, and its breath steamed from the lungs of a forge.
"An Aether Tusk," Kevin said politely, introducing our superstar.
Levin raised a hand, mana already gathering in his palm. "Lyra, I can—"
Step.
That one movement was all it took.
She surged forward, and I felt it instantly—mana coiling around her boots, threaded with wind.
The speed was insane.
I swung against her chest, a nervous pendant on a rollercoaster.
This was our debut in monster execution. No flourish. No battle cry. Just a flick of her wrist.
A sword shimmered into her hand, and she dragged it low—like a samurai drawing a blade.
The beast roared and charged.
Lyra held firm, eyes locked, unshaken.
Just before the tusks could impale us both (and I would really prefer that not happen), she slipped right—clean, fluid—and slashed its leg in one smooth motion.
It stumbled.
Before it could even react, she launched skyward—four, maybe five meters up—
And yup, there I went too, strapped like an enchanted seatbelt.
Her mana flared—hot, focused, sharp.
But the fire wasn't affecting me.
Which meant—
She'd coated me too. Protected me without missing a beat, even while pissed off and mid-battle.
Sigils spun around her mid-air, glowing like constellations catching fire.
She grabbed the sword with both hands—steady, deliberate.
Then it ignited. Flames coiled up the blade, wild and thick, as she spun mid-air to build momentum.
Then she screamed,
"ARRRGHHHH I'M SO MAD!!"
BAAAM!
We dropped like a comet. The blade slammed into the boar's back—
An explosion of fire and force erupted on impact, kicking up dirt and smoke.
The shockwave knocked leaves from the trees and scorched the grass in a wide ring,
leaving a heavy dent where the beast lay.
The boar didn't even twitch.
Gone. Just like that.
One thing I can say for sure—Kevin definitely teaches a special class in flashy moves.
Both teacher and apprentice just pulled off some next-level dramatic nonsense.
And well...
Yeah.
I was impressed.
And...
You really shouldn't make a girl angry.
Especially this one.
Levin stood frozen, mouth open.
Lyra turned, brushed some dirt off her sleeve as if she'd just watered plants, and muttered,
"Can we go now? I'm still mad."
Kevin chuckled.
"Yes. But try not to destroy it like that next time."
He pointed at the dent.
"That was our dinner. Now we'll have to find another one."
With that, we moved on—dragging the carriage along until we found a better spot to camp.
Levin was promptly tasked with finding food, while Kevin started setting up a tent.
Lyra stayed behind, arms crossed, jaw tight, still radiating volcanic levels of unresolved diary angst.
Eventually, she gave a long, slow sigh and wordlessly began building her own camp.
Not joining Kevin.
Just... staking her territory.
So now we had two camps.
One for Kevin and Levin.
One for Lyra.
Guess which one I was stuck with?
Yup.
Still hanging on to the forest's most emotionally unstable tentmate.
"Oh no," I said dramatically. "I have to sleep alone with Lyra in a tent. I'm so afraid. Anything could happen."
She didn't say a word.
Just grabbed me by the chain, wound up like a pitcher, and casually yeeted me straight into the dirt beside the firepit.
I lay there in a smoking pile of soot and existential regret.
"Note to self," I muttered, twitching slightly. "She's still mad. I was just testing the water. Turns out it's lava."
I flopped myself upright—solo rescue mode: engaged.
Before anyone could say anything else, Levin burst out of the underbrush like a triumphant wilderness goblin—leaves in his hair, scratches on his arms, and the world's proudest smile.
He held up two very large, very angry-looking forest hens.
One of them had absolutely pecked him in the face.
He was bleeding. Just a little.
But he looked so proud...
No one said a thing.
"Okay, let's wrap things up," Kevin said.
The hens sizzled over the fire soon enough.
The smell—rich, savory, smoky—filled the clearing.
And the most surprising part?
Lyra.
She was the one who made the preparations.
I never knew she could cook.
She never really had the chance before—Mom usually handled everything back home.
I guess... I've really been gone a long time. Thirteen years.
Long enough for her to change in ways I never got to see.
I didn't ask how she learned.
Figured... I had a lot of catching up to do with her.
As we ate, the sun dipped below the trees, shadows stretching long and thin across the clearing.
It was peaceful, for a moment.
Just four weirdos sharing campfire chicken in the middle of a haunted forest.
Lyra gnawed silently on a drumstick, still moody I guess.
Levin, meanwhile, was trying way too hard to look cool while eating—and somehow managed to smear grease across his nose like a toddler losing a war with a sandwich.
And Kevin?
He kept glancing at me.
Not hostile.
Just... studying.
Measuring.
I wasn't sure why.
To break the silence, I spoke up.
"So, Lyra... is the diary really that important? Maybe we can go back for it after we finish our business in Nexus City."
Lyra paused mid-gnaw.
Her eyes flicked toward me—well, technically toward my dice-body, which was currently busy awkwardly ravaging a chunk of chicken. Probably a very tragic thing to witness.
She set the drumstick down and wiped her fingers on a cloth, her movements slow and distracted.
Then she hugged her knees to her chest, staring into the fire.
"It's not just a diary," she mumbled, voice low.
"It's... memories. Dreams. Things I can't say out loud..."
Her voice cracked a little.
"Especially not to Mom or Dad. It's... embarrassing. And frustrating. Ugh, I don't even know anymore."
The fire popped, scattering little sparks into the air.
Kevin said nothing.
Levin gave up trying to look cool and just listened quietly.
And me?
I wanted to say something smart. Something comforting.
Something that would fix it.
But words don't always line up when you need them.
Sometimes they just sit there, stuck in your throat.
Finally, all I managed was a quiet,
"I get it."
Because I did.
More than she knew.
Lyra didn't look up.
But I saw it—the tiniest shift.
Her shoulders, easing.
The stiff line of her back softening, just a little.
Maybe... she believed me.
I drifted a little closer, letting the firelight warm my voice.
"We'll get it back," I said, firmer this time.
"Promise."
She nodded, still staring at the flames.
But this time, she hugged her knees a little less tightly.
The quiet settled in again, softer now.
The fire crackled softly. Smoke curled lazily into the dusk, and somewhere deep in the woods, a lone nightbird called once, then fell silent.
As if the forest itself had decided to give us a minute to breathe.
I noticed Levin staring, trying not to look obvious.
There was a flicker of surprise on his face—like he hadn't expected us to be... this "close".
But he said nothing.
Just poked at the fire, pretending he hadn't been staring.
Kevin leaned back against a tree, arms folded across his chest.
For a while, he just listened, silent and still.
Then he shifted, tapping his fingers once against his arm—a tiny crack in his composure.
"Dan," he called out.
His voice sounded casual—but there was something sharper underneath it.
"So... do you have any idea what you can actually do? I mean magic. Since you're an artifact?"
I twitched slightly.
A bit offended he just casually called me 'artifact,' reducing me to decorative junk.
But I forgave him almost instantly.
This was Kevin.
If he sounded rude, it wasn't because he meant it.
He was just... blunt.
"I don't really know," I admitted.
"I don't even know what I am. The only time I cast magic was years ago, the James incident. Then I went into a coma, you all know that story. After I woke up... honestly? I kind of don't want to touch magic anymore. Last time I did, it nearly killed me. Turned me into a Sleeping Beauty for thirteen years. So, Lyra and I never really tried anything after that."
Kevin narrowed his eyes a little.
"So what did you actually do back then?"
I wobbled awkwardly, thinking.
"Uh... I'm not totally sure.
I told Lyra to roll me.
When she did, I felt it—her mana flowed into me.
And mine too, somehow.
Then... it was my consciousness melted into the mana itself.
Something complicated like that."
I shifted again, a little sheepish.
"It's not like just anybody can roll me and boom, magic happens."
I hesitated.
"I think... only Lyra gets to do me," I muttered weakly.
Dead silence.
Lyra's eyebrow shot up.
And for a split second, I caught it—that smug grin flashing across her face before she wiped it away.
Way too fast.
Suspiciously fast.
"Really?" she said, voice sugary sweet.
"Let's test that, Dan~" she chuckled mischievously.
She spun toward Levin with the radiant malice of an evil stepmother unveiling a cursed heirloom.
"Levin, roll him. ❤️"