V2C15 - Echoes in the Glyph

Falridge – Eastern Gate, Late Afternoon

The sun dipped low behind the city’s ridgeline by the time Lucen and Nyari walked through the eastern gate. Their boots hit stone with heavy steps, each one slower than the last. Dust clung to Lucen’s cloak, his shoulder still sore beneath the dried blood. His sword was sheathed, but his fingers lingered near it—as if still remembering the Hollowmaw’s charge.

Nyari said nothing, her tail low and still, her arm wrapped in linen that had long since bled through. But she hadn’t complained once. Not on the road. Not even after the creature fled.

When the caravan split toward the merchant quarter, Jerek gave them a nod and rode off without ceremony.

Lucen adjusted his satchel and sighed. “You think the guild’s gonna believe this?”

Nyari barely looked at him. “They don’t have to.”

She flicked two fingers toward the back of his wrist. “The glyph recorded it.”

Lucen raised his hand.

The mana-linked sigil embedded in his skin had been warm ever since Ashpine. He hadn’t checked it—not on the road, not when they were recovering—but he could feel the weight in it. The glyph wasn’t just pulsing.

It was waiting to be seen.

He tapped it.

The sigil shimmered to life with a soft hum, projecting a pale arcane interface above his palm. A glowing display unfolded with smooth, precise mana script.

ARCANE GUILD GLYPH – SYNCED STATUS

NAME: Lucen

RANK: Bronze

ELEMENTAL AFFINITIES:

• Wind – Refined (Tier 5)

• Fire – Trained (Tier 4)

• Light – Basic (Tier 3)

• Earth – Awakened (Tier 2)

• Water – Dormant (Tier 1)

• Darkness – Dormant (Tier 1)

MANA FLOW STABILITY: 73%

QUEST SYNC: Caravan Escort – Completed

THREAT ENCOUNTER LOG:

• Classification: MYTHIC-CLASS

• Entity: HOLLOWMAW

• Result: SURVIVED – TARGET REPELLED

COMBAT SYNC: 94%

COMBAT IMPACT RECORD:

• Direct Hits: 3

• Elemental Attacks Logged: 6

• Confirmed Damage: Moderate-Severe

• Tactical Role: Frontline Hybrid / Defensive Flank Support

GLYPH ANOMALY ALERT: ACTIVE

Auto-flagged for guild review

Lucen slowed as the lines finished rendering. His throat felt dry.

Nyari leaned in.

“Combat impact… confirmed.” Her voice was quiet. “That’ll be hard to ignore.”

He closed the display just as they reached the plaza.

The moment they stepped past the threshold of the Guild Hall, a low, cascading chime rang out—not from a bell, but from the mana-synced crystalwork embedded throughout the hall.

The central guild seal flared with light.

The rune behind the front desk glowed softly, reacting to their arrival. And then, one by one, the columns flickered as the synced threat report pulsed through the building.

The entire guild paused.

Chairs scraped. Adventurers at the job board turned.

And behind the front desk, Eyla slowly rose from her seat.

She didn’t blink.

Her eyes locked on Lucen’s sigil.

Then on Nyari’s.

The chime faded—but the pressure didn’t.

Eyla’s voice came clear across the room.

“Lucen. Nyari. Front and center.”

Lucen’s stomach sank. “Here we go.”

Nyari smirked faintly. “Try not to trip on the way to the reception area”

Lucen and Nyari stepped forward through the guild’s main lobby, the hum of mana crystals above casting a faint shimmer across the stone. Stares followed them—not subtle. Half-curious, half-measuring.

At the desk, Eyla stood already working at the sync terminal, her sharp green eyes never leaving the glyph readings hovering just above her palm. The moment they reached the counter, she tapped the interface.

“You two triggered a region-wide anomaly log,” she said. “And it wasn’t a glitch.”

The floating crystal chimed.

A translucent projection rose from the terminal—larger this time, fully visible to the rest of the guild.

GLYPH SYNC – BRONZE RANK: LUCEN

QUEST: Caravan Escort – Ashpine Hollow

STATUS: Completed – Objective Met

THREAT ENCOUNTERED:

– Classification: MYTHIC

– Entity: HOLLOWMAW

– Status: Repelled

COMBAT SYNC RATE: 94%

COMBAT IMPACT REPORT:

• Elements Used:

→ Wind – Refined Execution

→ Fire – Direct Strike Confirmed

→ Earth – Spell Collapse Logged (mana instability)

• Confirmed Weapon Hits: 3

• Role: Frontline Hybrid

• Estimated Damage Output: Moderate–Severe

ALLY SYNC – NYARI:

• Element: Wind

• Dagger Strikes Logged: 4

• Evasion + Tactical Distraction: Confirmed

THREAT REPELLENCE VERIFIED – QUEST ELEVATED – PROMOTION PENDING

Silence dropped over the room like a curtain.

Near the bounty board, one adventurer straightened in his seat.

A tall Gold-rank near the stairs narrowed his eyes.

The guild seal above the desk began to glow—its silver runes pulsing brighter. A resonant hum rolled across the floor like a low wave of mana recognition.

Then the display updated:

RANK UPDATE:

→ LUCEN – BRONZE → SILVER

→ NYARI – BRONZE → SILVER

Whispers spread instantly. Not disbelief—tension.

Eyla stepped around the counter with two rune-etched cases in hand.

“Arcane Bands,” she said, her tone cool but crisp. “Silver grade. Calibrated to your mana. These aren’t for show.”

Then she slid two sealed pouches across the counter beside the cases.

“Payment. Base escort reward, hazard-class bonus for surviving a Hollowmaw, and your Silver rank-up stipend. That’s 150 silver plus a 20 silver vendor credit. Try not to blow it all on shiny crap from that weird shop—Whisperglass Curios or whatever it’s calling itself today.”

Lucen blinked. That was… a lot. Way more than the orc job had paid. He opened the pouch slightly—just enough to see stacks of polished silver coins and the folded guild credit slip beside them.

Nyari’s ears twitched. “Huh. I might actually let the guild slide on this one.”

“You earned it,” Eyla said plainly. “And next time, maybe don’t bring the rarest monster in the region back to the road.”

Lucen tucked the pouch into his belt, careful and quiet.

He’d save most of it—gear upgrades weren’t cheap. But… maybe a little could go toward something else.

Lucen opened his case.

A sleek silver band rested inside—simple, elegant, and already warm with latent energy. Mana lines etched into the metal pulsed faintly, and the moment he touched it, the band resonated with his core.

He clipped it on.

And the difference was instant.

His mana, which always stuttered slightly when calling Earth, now moved more smoothly. Still imperfect—but less scattered. It felt like a steady grip replacing a slipping hand.

Nyari opened hers.

Her band was thinner, designed like a wind spiral. When she locked it in place, a faint shimmer pulsed at her back—just for a second. A ripple, like a mirage trailing behind her step.

Her ears twitched. “Speed tuning?”

Eyla gave a faint nod. “Afterimage shimmer. Should confuse slower enemies. Your movement will feel… sharper.”

Nyari grinned. “It already does.”

Lucen looked down at his wrist, the guild’s sigil now glowing subtly along the metal band.

“Feels like the real start,” he muttered.

Eyla folded her arms. “Silver means you’ve got eyes on you now. Don’t get lazy.”

Lucen smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they turned away, the room shifted around them—not in hostility, but in recognition.

They weren’t new anymore.

Lucen and Nyari stepped away from the reception desk, their new Arcane Bands still warm around their wrists. The buzz of conversation picked up again behind them, but the tone had shifted. Words came quieter. Stares lingered just a little longer.

It wasn’t hostility.

But it wasn’t welcome either.

They crossed the main floor toward the side wall beneath the mission alcove—a quieter section where benches ran along the stonework and late-rank adventurers sometimes planned out party formations or waited for briefings.

Lucen dropped onto the bench first with a quiet grunt, rolling his shoulder. “Gods, I feel like I’ve been hit by that thing twice.”

Nyari stayed standing for a second longer, eyes drifting across the guild. Conversations had resumed, but the tension hadn’t left. More than a few glances were pointed their way.

Not just at Lucen.

At her, too.

She sat beside him, pulling one leg up on the bench. Her tail flicked once as she leaned into the backrest.

“You notice how quiet it got when we walked away?”

Lucen exhaled through his nose. “Yeah.”

“They’re watching us now.”

He looked around briefly. She was right.

Not just adventurers he didn’t recognize, but even a few he did—Silver and Gold ranks glancing down from the upper level, subtly sizing them up. Quiet whispers flickered like sparks between table clusters.

He turned his wrist and looked down at the Arcane Band again.

The silver band pulsed faintly with residual mana—a smooth glow around the embedded guild emblem. It felt… solid. Official. He wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.

“I can feel the change already,” he said. “Earth magic doesn’t buck against me as hard.”

Nyari gave a sideways grin. “So next time you cast it, you’ll just stumble instead of eating dirt?”

“Progress.”

She smirked. “Silver-level dirt tasting. I’m proud of you.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing his thumb along the runes on the band.

“I didn’t expect all this from a caravan job.”

Nyari shrugged. “You think I did?”

He looked at her. “You always act like you’re ten steps ahead.”

“Please.” She stretched her arms overhead. “If I’d known we’d be fighting a Hollowmaw, I’d have brought a better lunch.”

He laughed—quiet but genuine. It echoed slightly under the high arch of the ceiling.

Her voice lowered a bit. “They’ll keep watching us, you know.”

“I know.”

“You okay with that?”

He paused. Then nodded. “Yeah. I think I am.”

They sat for a long moment in silence.

Then she leaned slightly against his shoulder—not heavily, just enough to rest for a second. It wasn’t teasing, wasn’t flirtatious. Just simple. Honest.

“You’re not bad to fight beside,” she said quietly.

Lucen didn’t look at her, but his voice was soft. “You’re not bad to follow.”

“Good.” Her tail flicked once. “Because next time, you’re taking point.”

A few more seconds passed. Then Nyari stretched again, cracking her neck.

“So… food?”

Lucen stood slowly, grimacing. “Yes. Anything hot. And not screaming.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “You sure? That Hollowmaw looked like it would’ve made a nice stew.”

Lucen winced. “Don’t. I can still smell the ichor.”

As they made their way toward the doors, the conversations behind them slowly resumed. Not all the stares vanished.

But some softened.

Respect wasn’t earned in a day. But it had started.

Together, they walked into the cooling night air—still sore, still learning, and now a little more dangerous than the guild had realized.

Falridge – Hearthlight Inn, Shortly After

The Hearthlight Inn sat near the western ridge of town, tucked beneath a gently sloped canopy of lantern-lit beams and weathered stone. Warm light spilled from the front windows, casting a golden glow across the path.

Lucen and Nyari pushed through the double doors, greeted immediately by the scent of baked herbs, sizzling oils, and something lightly sweet beneath it all.

“Finally,” Nyari muttered. “Someplace that doesn’t smell like blood and dirt.”

A few heads turned when they entered, but not many. The Hearthlight wasn’t where adventurers gathered to posture—it was where they came to recover. Regulars filled booths along the back. Two older men sat near the fireplace, playing some quiet card game with flickering runes between them.

Lucen spotted Marella behind the front counter, tying off her apron. She turned, and her expression lit up.

“Oh!” she said, stepping around the counter with practiced ease. “You’re both alive.”

Nyari smirked. “We get that a lot.”

Marella looked them over, her eyes sharp despite the smile. “And newly minted Silver ranks, too. Half the inn’s already heard.”

Lucen scratched the back of his neck. “Word travels fast.”

“Falridge isn’t that big,” she said dryly, waving them toward their usual table. “Go sit. I’ll bring you something filling.”

“And no stew,” Nyari added quickly.

Marella laughed. “No stew.”

They slid into their booth near the window—one of the quieter corners, half-shadowed by the curtain.

Lucen leaned back with a sigh, running his fingers along the silver band again. The inn’s warmth soaked into his shoulders. His eyes felt heavier than they should’ve.

“You good?” Nyari asked, leaning her elbows on the table.

“Just tired,” he said. “And maybe still processing.”

“Mm.” She nodded once. “Same.”

A few quiet minutes passed. Marella returned with a pair of plates—roasted sliced potatoes, herbed chicken, flatbread with honey drizzle, and a small glass of berry cider each.

Nyari blinked. “We’re not dying tonight. That’s nice.”

Lucen smiled, actually meaning it this time. “Yeah. It is.”

They dug in.

No plans.

No pressure.

Just a meal, earned.

Falridge – Ridge Street, Nightfall

The streets of Falridge had quieted by the time they left the inn, their stomachs full and their steps slower than usual. The weight of the day still clung to them, but it was quieter now—less pressure, more aftermath.

Lanterns swayed gently above the ridge-side street, casting pools of amber light over stone paths slick with the cool breath of evening. The wind was crisp, not harsh—clean, with the faint scent of pine and distant cooking fires.

Lucen walked with his hands tucked in his cloak, posture a little slouched, eyes forward.

Nyari walked beside him, her steps lighter, tail lazily curling behind her. She didn’t say much at first.

She didn’t need to.

The silence between them had settled into something easy. Familiar.

Eventually, she spoke. “You’re quiet.”

Lucen gave a small nod. “Still processing, I guess.”

“Big day,” she said simply.

“Yeah.”

They turned off the main path, cutting up toward a quieter stretch near the western ridge overlook—a stone-walled path that wrapped around the outer edge of town, overlooking the forest valley below.

When they reached the top, the city gave way to an open view of the dark tree line stretching endlessly into the horizon. Stars dusted the sky above, clear and sharp against the black. It felt like they had stepped out of time.

Nyari leaned forward against the stone railing, arms resting loosely. “It’s pretty up here.”

Lucen stood beside her, close enough for their shoulders to almost touch. “Yeah,” he said, looking out over the trees. “It is.”

A breeze rolled through, brushing his cloak to the side. As he adjusted slightly, the back of his hand grazed hers—just a flicker of contact.

He stopped moving.

So did she.

They didn’t pull away.

Their hands stayed that way—just close enough to feel the faint warmth of the other. Not touching. But not apart, either.

Nyari’s voice came quieter. “You’re getting stronger, you know.”

Lucen glanced over. “Not just me.”

Her ears twitched lightly.

“Still slower than me, though,” she added, smirking faintly.

Lucen exhaled a soft laugh. “You’ll let me catch up eventually.”

“Doubt it.”

But her hand didn’t move.

And neither did his.

They stood in silence for a while, the wind curling around them, carrying the faint sound of city life behind them and the endless hush of trees below. The glow of the lantern above them flickered, golden and soft.

Lucen looked down again—at the silver band circling his wrist.

At the memory of the glyph. The fight. The weight of everything since.

Then he glanced back toward Nyari.

She hadn’t moved either.

Not away.

Just beside him, like she belonged there.

And for the first time that day, Lucen wasn’t thinking about survival.

He was just standing under the stars…

with someone who made the world feel a little less heavy.

Falridge – Hearthlight Inn, Later That Night

The walk back to the inn was slower.

They didn’t talk much. The wind had settled, and the streets were mostly empty now—just the occasional flicker of lanternlight and the soft creak of wooden signs shifting in the night.

When they stepped through the doors of the Hearthlight, the warmth was immediate. Most of the crowd had cleared out. Only Marella remained behind the counter, folding linens and humming something quiet to herself.

She looked up and offered them both a gentle nod. “Late night?”

Nyari smiled faintly. “Walked it off.”

Lucen said nothing—just returned the nod and followed Nyari toward the stairs.

They climbed in silence.

At the top, the hallway stretched in both directions. Their rooms were side by side. Familiar. Routine.

But tonight, when they reached the doors, neither of them moved immediately.

Lucen shifted, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. “…Thanks. For today.”

Nyari leaned a little against her doorframe, tail flicking once behind her. “Same to you. We made a good team.”

He nodded slowly, eyes lingering on hers longer than he probably should’ve. The soft inn light framed her face in gold and shadow, and for just a second, she wasn’t smirking or teasing or throwing a knife—she was just Nyari.

Real. Close. Quiet.

He opened his mouth—then thought better of it.

“Night,” he said instead.

She looked at him a moment longer. Then tilted her head slightly, ears twitching.

“Lucen.”

He paused.

Nyari stepped forward—not far, just close enough for her hand to brush gently against the edge of his cloak. Her fingers lingered near his for a second… then slid away again.

“Get some sleep,” she said, voice soft now. “You’re still slower than me.”

Then she slipped into her room, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

Lucen stood there for a moment, the faint heat of her touch still warm against his sleeve.

He didn’t smile.

But he didn’t move either.

Not right away.

When he finally turned into his room, the air felt quieter. Still.

And as he sat down beside the bed, cloak half-off and the Arcane Band faintly glowing on his wrist, he whispered something into the empty room that he hadn’t let himself admit all day.

“…I’m glad it was you.”

Then he exhaled—

And let the day finally end.

Author’s Note – Quick Update!

Hey everyone—thanks so much for reading Second Light!

Just a heads-up: The chapters have gotten longer (2,000+ words each), so I’ll be switching to one update per day to keep things clean, focused, and high-quality.

Volume 2 is nearly finished, and as we head into Volume 3…

An unexpected, life-threatening encounter awaits.

Lucen and Nyari are about to face their biggest challenge yet—one that will test their strength, their bond, and everything they thought they understood about magic.

Stick around. Things are just getting serious.

—Tsukikage Ren