The first morning in Medai Village was more peaceful than Ren had ever imagined, almost luxuriously so, compared to the days before.
There were no roars of monsters echoing through the night, no heightened vigilance with every step into the wilderness, and no heavy, calculating stares from unfamiliar players silently measuring each other's strength and intentions.
Instead, there was only the gentle light seeping through an old wooden window frame, stretching into quiet sunbeams across the floor. Somewhere in the distance, birds chirped beneath a vast blue sky.
Ren woke much later than usual, late enough to surprise even himself.
He had slept straight through the night, skipping dinner, not from exhaustion, but because he wanted to let his body reset, to unwind after the relentless days of battle.
No alarms, no system reminders, no bells from the virtual interface… just silence, until his internal clock quietly called him back to reality.
When he opened his eyes, the sun was already nearing its peak. He lay there for a moment, staring at the rough wooden ceiling, before shifting slightly to sit up.
The room was plain, a small bed, a wooden chair, and an empty bookshelf. Simple, unremarkable, yet it carried a strange warmth, as if this place could hold him gently in its silence without needing to say a word.
Ren ran a hand through his messy hair, staring off blankly for a few seconds, as if to make sure he was still here, in a world where everything was virtual but the pain felt breathlessly real.
Then he placed his bare feet on the cool tiled floor and walked to the window, gently pushing it open.
A soft breeze swept in, carrying the scent of old wood, damp earth, fresh grass, and the warm, comforting smell of toasted bread from somewhere in the village.
Medai Village was alive, not noisy, not bustling, but undeniably part of this world, a quiet pause amid the inevitable chaos ahead.
Ren stood there in silence, exhaling slowly. It wasn't a sigh of relief, but more like a release of something still lingering in his chest, something that had softened during sleep but hadn't fully disappeared.
A new day had truly begun. And he was still here, still moving forward.
He stood by the second-floor window of the inn, one hand resting lightly on the wooden latch, as if he wasn't quite ready to let the world in just yet.
The late-morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his face, still a little dazed, not fully awake.
Perhaps it was the unusually long sleep, or maybe it was because, for the first time in a long while, his body had been allowed to relax in a space free of pressure.
Ren's thoughts floated somewhere between hazy fragments of memory and the present, a peace so gentle it almost made one suspicious.
Below, Medai Village was waking in its own way, slow, calm, as if nothing in the world could rush it out of rhythm.
Worn cobblestone paths welcomed the steps of a few groups of players passing by, their conversations echoing lightly through the air.
Some had swords strapped to their backs, others carried bundles of freshly picked herbs. A few sat in front of a shop, chatting about ingredient prices or planning their next hunting trip.
Their gear had evolved from the crude basics of the early days, not yet shining with elite brilliance, but clearly in transition. Just like them, learning day by day how to survive.
Among them were NPCs, indistinguishable from players if you didn't look closely, expressive faces, soft laughter, casual greetings, the busy rhythm of everyday life.
A young boy chased a small dog down the road. A woman carrying a basket of ripe fruit paused to chat with the blacksmith wiping sweat from his brow at the workshop entrance.
Those interactions, warm and detailed, gave the place a strange sense of familiarity. It felt like any ordinary village in the real world.
From the far end of the street came the steady sound of the smithy, the clang of hammer on steel ringing like the quiet heartbeat of a place still very much alive.
A horse-drawn cart creaked by, wooden crates knocking against each other with dry thuds, wheels clattering across the stones. It reminded Ren of all the times he'd wandered alone through desolate areas, just to gather materials for a side quest with a disappointingly low reward.
Ren said nothing. There was no one here to speak to.
But his eyes followed every small movement below, every color of life in Medai Village, as if he were quietly engraving it all into memory, so that when he left, he'd remember that such a peaceful moment had once existed.
In that moment, he was not a warrior, not a survivor in a deadly world.
He was just a person, a person who had paused, to breathe, to watch the world turn, to feel something fragile yet real: life. And maybe, that alone was enough to keep him going.
"That's enough… So, what should I do today?" Ren thought to himself, his breath vanishing into the cool air as he stretched lazily.
Not letting himself think any further, he began to put on his gear, each movement familiar, like a morning ritual… though in truth, just a few simple gestures were all it took.
A glow enveloped his body, and the armor was already equipped.
Even in a safe place, Ren didn't abandon his habit of keeping himself wrapped in an air of reserve and mystery, as if that outer shell was an inseparable part of who he was.
The gray outfit clung to his slim but flexible frame, woven from a sturdy fabric capable of resisting shallow cuts.
His face remained hidden beneath the shadow of the wolf-fur hood, its thick fur gently swaying with his movements.
Draped over his shoulders, a worn-out cloak sagged with each step, its frayed edges fluttering lightly in the breeze, covering his back like a loyal shadow following its master.
Once everything was ready, Ren approached the door. The soft sound of his boots tapping against the old tiled floor of the inn echoed in the quiet, like the steady heartbeat after a long night. He placed his hand on the wooden door and gently pushed it open.
Light spilled in from outside, carrying with it the scent of fresh air and the warmth of noon.
Ren stepped out of the room with a silent yet prepared demeanor, as if, even without knowing what awaited ahead, he was ready to face it.
He cast a glance at the two rooms opposite his. Both doors were slightly ajar, with no light seeping through from within, a clear sign that the rooms had been vacated.
No sound remained, no lingering warmth from the night before. A brief silence passed as he wondered when they had gone downstairs.
Perhaps Yuna and Nautilus were waiting in the lobby, or had gone out for some fresh air in the morning mist.
Ren shrugged, not overly concerned. Either way, it was time to go.
He turned around, his hand brushing against the amber-colored wooden railing, and began descending the stairs.
The steady rhythm of his footsteps echoed against the solid wooden steps, resounding softly through the stillness of the inn.
The scent of aged wood mingled with a faint trace of tea lingering from the dining room below, bringing a sense of quiet familiarity.
Dim light filtered through the dusty windowpanes, casting pale morning rays across the stone walls.
Everything was so still it felt almost frozen, as if Aincrad was holding its breath before the day began.
And in that moment, Ren was no longer a wandering traveler weighed down by quests and battles, just a boy descending the stairs, heading toward the ones waiting for him.
As his foot touched the cold stone tiles of the ground floor, Ren looked up, his eyes sweeping across the stillness of the lobby, as if searching for something familiar amidst the morning haze.
The lobby remained quiet, just like always, with only the faint creak of the old wooden ceiling and the dull light seeping through the dusty windows.
A few wooden chairs sat near the fireplace, where the flames had long since died out, leaving behind a faint scent of cold ash, like the remnants of a long night.
Near the entrance, a small figure curled up in a white cloak, clutching a steaming wooden cup, that was Yuna.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps. Her eyes met Ren's for the briefest moment, a glance so quick that most wouldn't notice it carried any meaning.
But for Ren, that fleeting moment was enough to read a glimpse of relief, laced with something guarded, as if she didn't want to make her concern too obvious.
As for Nautilus, he stood leaning against the wall near the door, hands in his pockets. His posture seemed relaxed, but his eyes remained alert.
When he saw Ren, he immediately straightened up, looking slightly unsure of himself, like he didn't know whether to act casual or to move quickly.
Yet what couldn't be hidden was the look of genuine relief, not just because the one they were waiting for had arrived, but because of the quiet reassurance that came with walking forward together, even if only for a brief journey.
Ren nodded in greeting. No unnecessary words were spoken.
Among the three of them, there was no fuss or formality, only a silence that lingered, not heavy but rather an unspoken agreement that they were all ready for the day ahead and whatever waited beyond.
He walked over, pulled out a wooden chair, and sat beside Yuna. She glanced at him again, this time slower, with the same guarded look, and then quietly pushed the cup toward the center of the table.
No words, no clear expression, but the gesture held a quiet sense of sharing. Something so simple, yet to Ren, it felt like a small door opening between two once-distant souls.
"Did you sleep?" Nautilus asked, his voice rough and low, as if the night's breath still lingered in his throat.
Ren leaned back in his chair, eyes not focused on anyone, simply gazing through the window where morning light tried to pierce the thick mist, casting pale streaks across the stone floor.
He nodded, barely noticeably. "Well enough. What about you two?"
Yuna didn't answer right away. She just tightened her grip on the second cup, steam still rising, her gaze locked on the amber-colored liquid inside. "I dreamed… of roots," she murmured, voice low like she feared the sound would make the memories more real. "They were still chasing us."
Nautilus didn't reply either, only bowed his head slightly, a barely perceptible nod, as if he, too, hadn't quite escaped the aftershocks of the past days.
It wasn't exactly agreement, more like a quiet acknowledgment: the fear, though it had retreated, hadn't gone away.
Ren said nothing. There were many things he could say, words of comfort, encouragement, or even rational reassurances… but none of it was necessary. Sometimes, a silent presence was the only balm for nameless fears.
"When do we leave?" Yuna asked. This time, her eyes weren't fixed on her cup, they looked straight at Ren, unflinching, unguarded.
Ren turned to them both, then slowly lifted his gaze toward the doorway, where the soft light of morning spilled through the crack.