The sun hung low on the horizon, stretching shadows across the caravan's makeshift camp.
Dinner was already bubbling in the pot. Mila stirred it with lazy precision until a voice broke the calm.
"Oi, Delta."
Marn stepped forward, a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles like thunder in his gloves. His short blade hung at his hip—standard merc gear, nothing fancy.
"You, me. One round. Friendly spar."
Calen looked up from where he sat cleaning the inner chamber of his Æther Gauntlet. "No."
Marn blinked. "Come on, don't be shy. You've been dodging my request for days."
"Not interested."
"C'mon I also want to have a taste of that battle power you're hiding. I was directly at the site where you were collapsed, so I know you aren't weak."
Silence.
"C'mon fight me, like you fought that thing in the forest."
Calen's gaze flicked toward him. "That wasn't a requested spar."
"Exactly why I want to spar. You said you're seventeen, right?"
"I did."
"Then we're the same age," Marn said, lifting his chin. "It's only fair we compare skills. Just a friendly bout."
There was something in his eyes—curiosity, challenge, ego.
Calen paused. Looked at him.
Then stood.
"Alright."
~~~
The others circled naturally. Orvan leaned on his staff. Lyn crossed her arms. Tira munched on a skewer. Even Nym looked up from her rock-stacking pastime.
No one cheered. No one jeered.
Just silence.
Observing.
Waiting.
~~~
Calen stepped into the clearing.
Unarmed.
Marn raised a brow. "You're not using the gauntlet thingy or whatever?"
"I don't need to."
"Hah! You've got guts, I'll give you that."
He drew his blade and dropped into a stance.
Calen didn't move. Didn't blink.
His arms stayed relaxed by his sides. Feet spread just slightly. The wind tugged his cloak gently, but his posture never shifted.
~~~
Then Marn moved.
A flash of steel. Direct strike toward the shoulder—fast, clean, practiced.
Calen slipped past it.
Effortless.
A turn of the hips, a brush of fabric. His foot twisted into position behind Marn's as the boy stumbled forward.
A perfect counter.
But he didn't follow through.
He pulled back.
~~~
Marn twisted mid-fall, used the momentum to regain his balance, and came in low. A sweep. Calen jumped. Landed lightly.
Another strike. This time higher.
Calen ducked. Sidestepped.
Still not attacking.
His movements were too efficient. No wasted energy. No excess motion.
~~~
It became obvious.
Calen wasn't fighting back.
He was reading.
Testing.
Learning.
~~~
Marn growled and went all in—full speed, blade flashing with a rush of Star Stream. Ember-tier strength, just one tier above Calen. The ground cracked under his boots as he lunged forward.
And Calen moved.
Fast.
The crowd gasped.
Too fast.
Then—suddenly—Calen slipped.
Stumbled.
His foot caught on a rock and he fell back.
Marn's blade stopped at his chest.
The silence stretched like drawn steel.
"I win," Marn said, panting.
Calen nodded from the ground, voice flat. "Well fought."
Marn beamed. "You're good, but you've got some polishing to do." A rough laugh escaped his lips.
He turned to the group like he had just won a tournament. "See? Told you I could handle him!"
~~~
But none of the others responded.
They just stared at Calen.
Lyn's eyes narrowed slightly.
Tira tilted her head.
Even Orvan's brow furrowed, thoughtful.
It wasn't that Calen had lost.
It was how.
Deliberately.
Orvan had seen war. The little misstep hadn't been a mistake—it was a choice. A pullback.
Delta had let Marn win.
~~~
Later, after the fire was lit and food was served, Calen sat with his bowl and chewed in silence.
Echo spoke softly in his mind. "You held back."
"I needed to see where I stand in terms of power."
"And?"
"I'm confident I can beat the average 17 year old human"
"Okay, but why lose on purpose?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then: "It made him happy."
Echo paused.
"...You're learning strange things."
"I want to understand them. I want to also be able to comprehend human emotions."
A beat of silence.
Then Echo murmured, "You know they're suspicious of you now."
"I know."
He stirred the soup thoughtfully. "Mila added the wrong herb. I corrected her yesterday. She didn't argue."
"That's… not normal for humans, right?"
"No. But they let it happen."
His hazel eyes reflected the flicker of firelight.
"I'm trying to understand why."
~~~
That night, as the fire burned low and the caravan slept, Calen stood alone on the edge of camp, gazing into the woods.
His thoughts were quiet.
But something stirred behind his eyes.
[Observation Log Updated: Group Behavior – Passive Acceptance Confirmed]
[System Note: Subject growing in complexity]
He blinked. Let the HUD fade.
The wind whispered through the trees.
And for the first time after leaving The Creaking Pheonix, Calen didn't feel entirely alone.