Arata first felt the unfamiliar texture beneath him when he stirred awake.

  His body had grown used to the simple wooden bed—the rough mattress, the slight creak whenever he shifted. But this… this was different. The bed here was thicker, the blanket heavier, trapping warmth in a way that felt almost suffocating.

  His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the dim glow of morning light filtering through a small window. A ceiling, carved from sturdy wood, stretched above him. It took a second for reality to settle in.

  He was in Mizukaza.

  Slowly, Arata sat up.

  The moment his feet touched the floor, a sharp contrast hit him. The wooden planks were cool and smooth, sending a slight shiver up his legs. It wasn’t freezing, just enough to make his toes curl before adjusting.

  This wasn’t home.

  Then, a knock on the door.

  “Hey, kid. Wake up,” Kate’s voice called from the other side. “I got something for you.”

  Before he could respond, the door creaked open slightly, and Kate slipped inside, a small pile of folded clothes in her arms.

  “You slept in those same clothes, didn’t you?” she asked, eyeing his wrinkled, dirt-stiffened tunic.

  Arata glanced down. He hadn’t even noticed.

  “I never noticed.”

  Kate sighed, shaking her head. “Figures.” She placed the clothes on the edge of his bed. “They’re a little big, but they’ll do for now. We’ll get you fitted ones later.”

  Arata hesitated, staring at the fresh clothes. It had been so long since anyone had given him something just for the sake of taking care of him.

  Kate must’ve noticed his pause because she crossed her arms. “Don’t just sit there looking at them. Change, and then meet us in the common room.”

  Just as Kate turned to leave, a horrid stench hit Arata’s nose.

  “Hey, uh… Kate?” Arata asked hesitantly. “Do you know where I can bathe? It’s been… a couple of weeks.”

  Kate froze, then turned back to him with an amused smirk. “That explains a lot.”

  “Down the hall to the left. There should be spare supplies in there somewhere, but I’m not too sure.”

  She gave him a final glance. “And don’t take forever. We don’t wait for stragglers around here.”

  With that, she shut the door behind her.

  Arata stared at the clothes for a moment longer before reaching for them.

  For the first time since arriving, he felt just a little less like an outsider.

  After thirty minutes of bathing and changing into the clothes, Kate brought him—a simple dark tunic, slightly baggy pants, and a belt that barely fit—Arata stepped into the common room.

  The others were finishing breakfast, but Zetsubo was already waiting for him by the door.

  “You’re up. Took you long enough,” Zetsubo said, eyeing him. “Come with me.”

  Arata blinked. “Where are we going?”

  Zetsubo smirked. “To see the town. Before we throw you into training, you need to know where you’re living. Let’s go.”

  Arata hesitated for a moment but followed. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be.

  The streets of Mizukaza were lively—far more than Arata expected.

  Vendors shouted as they advertised fresh produce, exotic spices, and hand-crafted goods. The smell of grilled meats and sweet pastries filled the air, mixing with the bitter scent of incense from a nearby shrine. People bustled around—some chatting, others carrying supplies, children weaving between stalls with wooden swords.

  But as they walked, Arata noticed something unsettling.

  People were staring at him.

  Not openly—not in a way that screamed hostility—but in passing glances.

  Some were curious. Some seemed to recognize something about him but said nothing, while others… had something else in their eyes.

  Some were filled with pity. Others with uncertainty.

  A few, though—a handful of older men and women—looked at him with quiet suspicion.

  Did they know?

  His fingers curled around his mother’s necklace, gripping it tightly.

  Zetsubo must’ve noticed because he spoke up. “Ignore it.”

  “They’re only wondering why a child is with me.”

  Arata didn’t look at him, but he could hear the weight in his voice.

  “They’re gonna look. Some might talk. But what they think doesn’t matter.”

  Arata nodded slowly, but the uneasy feeling lingered.

  “Have you ever cared what people think of you?” Arata asked, glancing at Zetsubo.

  Zetsubo’s golden eyes flickered as he scanned the surroundings, watching the passing crowd.

  “Of course.” He exhaled slowly. “But then I realized it didn’t matter. It never will—as long as you do what you think is right for you.”

  A beat of silence passed before he nodded toward the street ahead.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “Now look alive—we’re at the core of the city.”

  Zetsubo led him through different parts of town, pointing things out as they went.

  The Market District is packed with vendors selling everything from weapons to magical artifacts.

  “Some of these are scams. Don’t believe everything a merchant tells you,” Zetsubo warned.

  The Training Grounds – A large open area where warriors and mercenaries practiced.

  “You’ll be spending a lot of time here,” Zetsubo said, smirking. “Hope you’re ready.”

  The Blacksmith’s Forge – The air was thick with smoke and heat. Sparks flew as a blacksmith hammered away at molten metal.

  “You’ll need a real weapon one day. When you’re ready, this is where you’ll get it.”

  The Town Square – A massive circular plaza where announcements were made, and people gathered for festivals.

  There was a large stone statue of a warrior in the center, but Zetsubo didn’t stop to explain who it was.

  Arata took in everything, committing as much as he could to memory.

  This was his new home now.

  As Zetsubo led Arata through the quieter section of town, he stopped outside a blacksmith’s forge.

  The air was thick with heat and the scent of burning metal. Sparks flew as a hammer slammed against glowing steel, ringing through the shop like a battle drum.

  Zetsubo pushed open the door, stepping inside.

  “Hey, Cal. You have what I need?”

  A man turned from his workstation, wiping sweat from his brow. His bald head gleamed under the lantern light, and his thick beard—wild and unkempt—looked like it belonged to a Viking warlord. He wasn’t tall, only about 5’5”, but the sheer bulk of his arms and chest made up for it.

  “Zetsubo, you bastard. ’Course I got it for you!”

  He bent down, rummaging through a crate, then glanced at Arata. His bear-like brown eyes narrowed with curiosity.

  “Well, now. Who’s this?”

  Zetsubo’s expression remained unreadable. “My nephew.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he grinned.

  “Well, if you’re family, I suppose I can give ya a little something. Come up here, kid.”

  Arata hesitated, glancing at Zetsubo, who gave him a small nod. Slowly, he stepped forward.

  Cal reached under the counter, pulling out a small but well-crafted blade. The hilt was simple, wrapped in leather for grip, and the steel—though not ornate—looked sharp enough to cut bone.

  “Here,” Cal said, holding it out. “First blade’s free. Consider it a welcome gift.”

  Arata reached for it, fingers brushing over the cool metal. The weight felt... right.

  “Well?” Cal chuckled. “Gonna take it, or just stare at it all day?”

  Arata nodded, gripping the weapon tighter. “Thank you.”

  Cal smirked. “A polite one, huh? You’re already better than half the idiots I sell to.”

  Shifting back to business, he pulled out Zetsubo’s order—a sword, reforged with new enchantments.

  “I reinforced the mana resistance like you asked,” Cal said, setting it down. “Should hold up no matter how much energy you push through it.”

  Zetsubo took the weapon, testing its balance before pouring a faint trace of mana into it. The blade pulsed slightly, absorbing the energy smoothly.

  A slow smirk formed on his lips. “Yeah. This will do.”

  “Told ya,” Cal said proudly. “I do my best work.”

  Arata’s gaze flickered to the two-star insignia on Cal’s arm. His mind turned. What did that mean? Was it a ranking? A measure of strength?

  He made a mental note to ask Zetsubo later.

  After leaving the forge, Arata drifted slightly away from Zetsubo, letting his feet carry him down the street.

  That’s when he saw it.

  The Library of Mizukaza.

  A massive stone building, its ancient architecture contrasts the lively town around it.

  As he stepped closer, the air changed.

  A weight settled in his chest.

  Magic.

  Not like the faint traces he’d felt in the market—the kind that clung to enchanted trinkets or runes. This was different. Stronger. Overwhelming.

  The space around the library felt dense, and suffocating, as if raw mana pressed against reality.

  For a brief moment, it felt like something was watching him, testing him.

  He swallowed hard and stepped forward.

  The massive doors were carved with old symbols he didn’t recognize. The closer he got, the more his fingers tingled with an odd sensation—like the magic was brushing against his skin, whispering to him.

  Then, the pressure vanished.

  Arata took a breath and stepped inside.

  The moment he entered, the noise of the outside world faded into silence.

  Rows upon rows of books stretched across endless shelves, towering like ancient guardians.

  Some were ordinary, their covers worn by age. Others... pulsed faintly with arcane energy, some even floating slightly, their pages flipping on their own.

  The air smelled of old parchment and dust, but it wasn’t unpleasant. There was a strange warmth in his chest, something familiar as if he was meant to be here.

  A few mages sat at long tables, hunched over texts. Some barely glanced at him. Others frowned, eyeing him as if wondering why a child had wandered in alone.

  Arata ignored them. Something was pulling him forward.

  His eyes drifted along the shelves, skimming over the titles.

  ?? “The History of Divine Artifacts”

  ?? “Elemental Mastery: Theories of Advanced Magic”

  ?? “The Lost War of the Outer Gods” (This one pulsed faintly, making his fingers tingle as he passed it.)

  ?? “The Forbidden Schools of Magic” (A thick chain was wrapped around this one, sealed with heavy runes.)

  His footsteps slowed.

  Then, he saw it.

  A door at the far end of the library, different from the others.

  It was sealed.

  Heavy enchantments layered over it, glowing with faint golden runes. Above it, a sign read:

  “RESTRICTED SECTION – ENTRY FORBIDDEN.”

  Arata stared.

  His chest tightened—a strange pull in the back of his mind.

  He took a step forward.

  “Hey, kid!”

  The sharp voice snapped him out of his trance.

  Arata turned to see a stern-faced librarian approaching. A middle-aged man's robes are pristine, his gaze sharp.

  “This is no place for a child. If you’re not here to study, you should leave.”

  Arata hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he nodded and turned away.

  Still, as he left the library, he stole one last glance at the forbidden section.

  Something told him...

  He’d be back.

  By the time Arata returned to Zetsubo, he immediately noticed something.

  “You find something interesting?” Zetsubo asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Arata kept his expression neutral. “Just looking around.”

  Zetsubo didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he just smirked.

  “Alright, kid. Hope you got a good look.”

  His golden eyes gleamed slightly.

  “Because starting tomorrow, you won’t have time to wander.”

  Arata swallowed hard, glancing back toward the direction of the library.

  Something told him he’d be back there sooner than later.