The room felt hollow without her.
Shirou stood at the doorway of the small inn room, his eyes scanning the quiet space where only a day ago, laughter echoed and little feet had darted across the wooden floor. Nana's absence weighed heavily on his chest, like an invisible chain coiled tight around his heart.
They had only stayed here for a day. Just one. But somehow, the memories had already sunk into the walls, painted themselves across the bedsheets, and lingered in the quiet. It felt strange. Emptier than it should.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The silence returned like a wave.
He stared at the empty bed across the room.
He couldn't lie to himself—he missed her.
But this was the right choice. She wouldn't be safe with him. No one would. His path wasn't a peaceful one. Whatever force had brought him into this world, it didn't do so for him to live a quiet life.
There was something... deeper. A pull in his chest, silent yet persistent, urging him forward.
He didn't know why he was here, not exactly. But some instinct whispered that he was meant to walk a path full of thorns—and if he wanted to survive it, let alone protect anyone, he had to grow stronger. Much stronger.
So many unanswered questions. So many things left undone.
But today, Shirou felt… exhausted. His mind clouded, emotions hanging like a fog over his chest. Maybe it was because he could still see Nana's face in his thoughts, her small hand clutching his, her laughter, her eyes.
He didn't want to forget her. He wouldn't.
But for now, he needed rest.
With a heavy sigh, Shirou lay down on the bed. The springs groaned slightly beneath his weight. His eyes drifted shut, and the darkness welcomed him without resistance.
—
The next morning, Shirou awoke early. The morning sun peeked through the old wooden blinds, scattering golden light across the floor. After splashing cold water on his face and brushing back his hair, he sat on the edge of the bed and took a slow breath.
Time to test something.
He reached out his right hand. With a flicker of light, white sparks coiled into his palm and began shaping into a weapon. The hilt formed first, followed by the gleaming steel of the blade—the same sword he had taken from the bandit leader. It hummed with power as it came into existence, resting in his grasp like a sleeping beast.
Shirou gripped the hilt firmly and attempted to channel his mana into the weapon.
Still Nothing.
He tried again, focusing harder, fire mana rising from his core into his arm.
The blade stayed cold.
The blade rejected him.
Why? Why won't it accept my mana?
He furrowed his brows. Thinking about it wouldn't solve the mystery. It wasn't a normal sword, that much was clear. If he wanted answers, he needed to find an expert. And if this blade wouldn't serve him, then he needed to find one that would.
He dismissed the weapon, the light dissipating in a shimmer of white sparks.
—
Though he possessed fire mana, Shirou had only ever managed to cast basic type techniques. They weren't weak by any means, but they lacked refinement. Every attempt to invent a new spell or technique had failed.
Is it because I haven't seen any advanced fire magic in action?
He hadn't fought any true fire users either. No one to observe. No one to learn from.
Clearly, he needed a sword. A reliable one. Something that could support him until his magic caught up.
Shirou got dressed, fixed his dress, and left the room. On the way out, he greeted the innkeeper with a polite nod, exchanged a few casual words, and stepped into the bustling street.
The city of Velgrath was alive with activity—vendors shouting their daily specials, wagons creaking by, and kids running around with wooden swords. The morning air carried a hint of roasted meat and spices from the nearby food stalls.
Shirou instinctively reached to hold someone's hand, his body moving before his thoughts caught up.
Then he stopped.
Right… she's not here.
His chest tightened for a moment, but he shook the thought away.
Later, he visited a local restaurant and ordered a quick breakfast—meat stew and warm bread. He ate in silence, lost in thought, then left a few coins on the table and stepped back out onto the street.
"Excuse me," he asked a passerby, "do you know where I can find a weapons shop around here?"
The man pointed a few blocks down. "Should be just across from the main transport street. Big emblem—two swords in a circle."
Shirou nodded his thanks and made his way down the indicated route.
Large trucks rumbled past him—huge metallic beasts powered by glowing blue cores. Mana stones, he realized. These trucks didn't run on petrol.
Does this world even have petrol?
He shook his head, watching one of the trucks pass.
That's when it happened.
A hand suddenly grabbed the collar of his cloak and yanked him back just as a truck roared past, inches from his face.
"Watch where you're going!" came a voice behind him—female, sharp, and firm.
Shirou turned and found himself face-to-face with a girl about his age. Short pink hair framed her face, and a faint gleam of mana flickered around her fingertips.
"Sorry," he said, brushing himself off. "I was thinking about something."
"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Shirou flinched slightly. "How did you know?"
She smirked. "Oh, I'm just that smart.
Nah—just kidding. You were staring at the trucks like you'd never seen one before. Velgrath's the only place in this region where you'll see that many of them."
"I see," Shirou said.
"I'm Amelia," she said, offering her hand.
"Shirou. Nice to meet you. You wouldn't happen to know where the weapons shop is, would you?"
"What kind are you looking for?" Her eyes lit up with interest.
"A sword."
Without answering, she gently placed her hand on his head and turned it. Across the street was a building with an emblem of two swords crossed inside a circle.
Shirou blinked. "It was this close?"
Amelia grinned. "Yep."
"You use swords?" she asked, studying him again. "Then you must be a body-enhancing type."
"A what now?"
"Body-enhancing mana users," she explained, "they're the ones who strengthen their physical form with mana—enhanced reflexes, strength, speed. Most of them use weapons because they can't really use long-range magic. No elemental affinity."
"Can't everyone enhance their body?" Shirou asked.
"Yes, but these people are built for it. It's their core strength."
He thought back to the bandit leader. He hadn't sensed any elemental magic from him. Just raw strength. Was he one of those types?
Amelia continued. "People with strong affinities or innate powers don't usually need weapons, but some still use them. What about you? Got an affinity?"
"Fire," Shirou replied.
"Ooooh, a fire user with a sword?" Amelia's eyes widened. "Just like the Violet Reaper!"
Shirou tilted his head. "The violet who?"
"The Violet Reaper! Or the Violet Ghost, depending on who you ask. Total legend! Supposedly took down entire enemy squads alone during the war. Super powerful and—ugh— and ridiculously handsome, from what the rumours say".
Shirou blinked. "Sounds like a celebrity?"
"He's in Velgrath right now!" she shouted, suddenly panicking. "I totally forgot! He's here on some kind of mission. I need to find him before he leaves!"
She turned and started sprinting. "Hope he's not gone! See you later, Shirou!".
"Uh… see you later, I guess."
Shirou turned back to the weapons shop, the crossed-sword emblem swaying gently in the wind above the doorway.
He exhaled slowly and stepped forward.
Let's go.