The moon hung high above the Virellean outskirts, casting its silver veil across the quiet landscape. Ari sat with Kaien beside a flickering campfire beneath the crumbling arch of an old viaduct, the boy wrapped in a borrowed cloak, trembling from more than just the cold.
Kaien had barely spoken since his rescue. His eyes occasionally darted toward Ari, as if he couldn't decide whether to revere him… or fear him.
But peace was a fleeting thing.
Hooves thundered in the distance.
The subtle rustle of plated boots and the glint of polished steel pierced the night. A dozen soldiers clad in the obsidian and sapphire colors of Virellean's Royal Guard encircled the camp, halberds drawn, spell circles humming faintly under their palms.
"Halt!" the captain barked. "You are to be detained for an unsanctioned use of lethal magic, unlawful disruption of the local economy, and for stealing property—namely, a registered combat slave from the Caldris Trading Guild."
Ari didn't move.
Kaien stood suddenly, putting himself between Ari and the soldiers, his fists clenched. "He saved me! He didn't steal me, he—!"
Ari gently placed a hand on Kaien's shoulder. "It's alright."
He rose.
Without anger.
Without tension.
And then he reached beneath his cloak.
Every soldier flinched, defensive glyphs blinking to life.
Ari simply held out a single, worn chain: a pendant unlike any other—the Symbol of the Compiler—etched with living runes that shifted like starlight, crowned with the iridescent mark of Originis.
Silence struck the guards like thunder.
"…is that…"
The captain staggered back a step, eyes wide.
"Impossible… that pendant—it was recorded lost in the last Age... that belongs to—"
"—to him," one soldier murmured, pale. "That's the Compiler. The one who rewrote spells during the Aurelion War. Who shattered the Ceaseless Gymnasium."
"He's just a boy," another whispered, but even that voice wavered, unsure.
"No…" the captain said, voice low. "He's Ari Solen. The Sovereign Rewrite. The Echo of Originis. The One Who Governs Glyphs."
All halberds lowered. Spell circles dimmed.
The youngest soldier, barely older than Kaien, dropped to a knee unconsciously. "…He's only nineteen…"
The weight of that truth made them all tremble more than the fire ever could.
They didn't escort him to a cell. They asked—requested—to speak with him at the capital, with deference usually reserved for kings.
Ari declined, kindly.
"I will return in due time. My pilgrimage is sanctioned by the royal accord between Vastelune and Aurelion. You may verify that with your superiors."
The captain nodded numbly. "Of course, Compiler Solen. We… we meant no disrespect."
As the guards left in silence, Kaien turned to Ari, stunned.
"You didn't even raise your hand… and they looked at you like you could erase them with a thought."
Ari smiled faintly. "I could. But that's not power. That's just weight."
He returned to the fire, where stars danced quietly above.
Kaien sat beside him once more. And for the first time since he was freed, the boy let his shoulders relax.