Zephyrion studied the object in his grasp with a faint frown. From its fragility and shape, it was no doubt an egg, yet the constant connection it maintained with the Worldpulse made it clear it was no ordinary one, but a mutated beast’s egg.

Reaching this conclusion, a faint smile formed on his lips. Mutated beast eggs were incredibly valuable, often going for at least three thousand gold coins.

Their worth lay in the fact that, at this stage of evolution, they could still be influenced.

Unlike other mutated beasts, whose evolution was largely complete after hatching or getting born, leaving them bound within the limits of their original state, beast eggs were essentially embryos, a clean slate.

Anyone could influence them by forming a connection. Over time, one’s resonance would seep into the egg, gradually aligning with it.

This allowed the beast to take on characteristics of its tamer. If one’s resonance aligned with fire, then so would the beast’s. To an extent, even its talent could be guided, allowing it to grow alongside its master.

They were extremely rare, as only a select breed of beasts laid eggs, and even then, only after many years. Most of such species were either difficult to find or had already gone extinct.

Ultimately, it depended on how early the egg had been conceived. Once an egg had been influenced, even partially, it could no longer be realigned.

Yet the moment Zephyrion sent his will into it, his smile deepened slightly. A completely untouched slate. Whether Victor had only just acquired it or simply hadn’t begun influencing it, he could not tell.

Regardless, his next course of action was clear.

’I’ll raise it.’

Selling it would bring him an astronomical sum, enough to secure a large stock of elixirs. But raising it offered far greater value in the long run.

He would be nurturing a lifelong companion, one he would never have to question or guard against.

Carefully, Zephyrion slipped the egg into the sack at his waist before letting his gaze flick toward the documents.

’No time.’

Kona could return at any moment. He had to leave.

Even so, Zephyrion quickly spread the papers across the floor, his eyes sweeping over each one as he committed them to memory, before gathering them and returning them to the black sack.

The next moment, he turned and made his way back to the village.

...

One day passed in the blink of an eye. With the death of Dune and the capture of Victor, no beasts attacked the village anymore.

Zephyrion, Kaiden, Fiona, along with the village head and a number of warriors, had combed through the surroundings in search of any remaining threats.

The forest, however, was calm. Not a single beast acted out of place.

The next morning, the entire village gathered at the grand gates. Low whispers rippled across the field as countless eyes settled on Zephyrion, filled with awe.

Beside him, Fiona watched the scene with a faint smile, while Kaiden stood with a brooding expression, as though he had woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

"...young warriors, words cannot begin to express our gratitude for saving this village. Without you, I would have already met my ancestors in shame. Pulsegrove is indebted to you."

The village head spoke with a deep bow. Behind him, Jenna and the elders followed, their expressions solemn.

Soon enough, the entire village mirrored the gesture, bowing with deep reverence.

Faced with this, Zephyrion simply inclined his head.

"Please, stand. There is no need for thanks. We were only carrying out our duties."

A smile spread across the village head’s face, as though he had expected nothing less.

’Such a great youth!’

Someone so young had defeated a mark seven. A mark seven. Not only was that unbelievable, but Zephyrion had not shown even the slightest hint of superiority.

He stood far above everyone present in both strength and talent, yet remained composed and modest. There truly was no such youth.

As he straightened, he gestured, and several villagers dragged a covered cart forward.

"We understand. However, we of Pulsegrove always wish to show our appreciation when it is due. This cart, filled with pulsewood and ink... please accept it as our token of thanks."

A faint glint passed through Zephyrion’s eyes, though his expression remained unchanged.

Pulsewood was a valuable resource to an Ascendant. The ability to inscribe and preserve rune arts made it highly sought after. It could serve him well, or be exchanged for a considerable sum.

"...I’m sorry, but I can’t—"

"Please accept it!" Omar abruptly bowed at a full ninety degrees, quickly gesturing to the others, who immediately followed suit’

"Please accept it!"

Zephyrion let a conflicted look pass across his face before exhaling softly, gaving a reluctant nod.

"...alright."

Without needing any further instruction, the other two trainees stepped forward and received the cart from the villagers.

As Zephyrion inclined his head and turned to leave, the village head suddenly spoke.

"Young warrior... pardon me if this sounds rude, but you’ve been with us for days now, and we still do not know your name."

Zephyrion paused. He had withheld it to observe freely, but that purpose had now been fulfilled.

He turned back, meeting the village head’s gaze.

"I am Zephyrion Calderalth."

"Zephyrion..." the village head muttered, brows knitting slightly. The next instant, his eyes widened, and he stared at Zephyrion in shock.

"Y-you’re... the young lord...?!"

Jenna and the elders within earshot froze, their eyes widening as they stared at him in disbelief.

Pulsegrove might have been secluded, but news still found its way to them.

Zephyrion Calderalth, the second child of Kastor, the genius prodigy who had returned after seven long years!

"...you’re truly the young lord...?" the village head asked, his voice trembling.

"I am."

"!!!"

They stared at him, utterly stunned. But a moment later, a low chuckle slipped from Omar as he shook his head faintly.

"No wonder..."

Now, everything made sense. All the impossible feats Zephyrion had displayed... he was of that blood.

Behind the village head, Jenna’s hands tightened into fists.

’The young lord.’

She had never imagined he was someone of such standing. Now, his refusal that night no longer stung the same. Given who he was, how could she possibly compare to the countless beauties who would seek his attention?

’My path.’

His words echoed clearly in her mind. She would no longer look down on herself. She would carve her own path.

Jenna steadied her breathing, her gaze lifting to meet Zephyrion’s departing back with quiet resolve.

After that... she would find him again, and show him her worth. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

’This isn’t goodbye.’