When Darren finished standing outside for a while and thinking about everything that had happened during the day, he finally decided to walk into the house. The evening breeze was slowly cooling down, and the light around the compound had begun to dim, signaling that the night was approaching. Darren took in a slow breath, steadying himself, because he knew that once he entered the house, someone—either his father or his mother—would surely ask him about his conversation with Joran. And the last thing he wanted right now was to deal with more questions that would make him feel even more pressured than he already felt.He pushed the wooden door open gently and stepped inside. At first, he did not see his father anywhere around the living room, so he felt relieved. The air inside was warm, and he could smell the familiar scent of food cooking from the kitchen. He walked deeper into the house and followed the smell until he reached the kitchen. There, he saw his mother standing beside th

Darren teleported directly into the forest, the same forest where he had first met the trader. The moment he appeared, the cool night wind brushed against his skin, carrying the familiar scent of damp leaves and distant water. The branches of tall trees swayed gently overhead, and the silence of the forest was thick, heavy, and tense. Darren looked around slowly, his chest rising and falling steadily as he tried to calm himself. He had come here for one reason—to face the trader—and even though he knew it was extremely risky, the thought of solving the matter once and for all strengthened his resolve.He drew out his glowing sword, the sword that was deeply connected to his strength. The moment the blade left its sheath, it shone with a vibrant golden light that illuminated the dark surroundings. His eyes were instantly filled with the reflection of the sword’s glow, making them shine faintly. Darren gripped the hilt firmly, knowing that this was the only weapon he had that could give

By the time Darren slowly opened his eyes fully, the sun had climbed higher in the sky. The light reflected off the wet sand and water, making everything around him appear brighter, though the chill from the river and the ocean breeze still clung to his body. His clothes were damp and heavy, sticking to his skin, and small cuts and bruises had formed across his arms and legs from the struggle in the river. The pain shot through his body as he tried to sit up, but he forced himself slowly, careful not to worsen the injuries. He looked around the shoreline, taking in the gentle waves rolling toward him and the vast horizon beyond. For a moment, he remained still, gathering his strength, trying to remember every step that led him here.He recalled the battle with the trader—the overwhelming strength of his opponent and the force that had thrown him into the river. Every movement of the trader had been precise and calculated, and Darren knew, deep in his chest, that this was a challenge f

Darren lay on his bed, the moonlight spilling through the window, illuminating the room with a soft, pale glow. He closed his eyes, trying to rest, but his mind refused to quiet down. The events of the previous day and night played repeatedly in his thoughts: the fierce battle with the trader, the river dragging him helplessly, the ocean tossing him onto the shore, and the loss of his sword. Even though he had survived, Darren knew the fight was far from over. The trader had proven himself strong and cunning, and Darren needed to be ready for anything.He stretched out his arms, feeling the soreness in every muscle, and then placed his hands on his chest, trying to sense the faint remnants of his magic. Though the sword was gone, the magic within him had not disappeared entirely. Darren focused on the energy coursing through his veins, letting it flow calmly through his body, reconnecting with him, and reminding him that he was still powerful even without the sword. The glowing sensat

Darren lay motionless on the lonely stretch of sand where the ocean had pushed him onto the shore. His body was half-buried under the cold, wet layer of sand washed over him by the last high tide. Waves rolled in and out gently, as if they were trying to nudge him awake. The morning sun was just beginning to rise, sending thin rays of pale gold across the sky. The wind was cool, brushing over his soaked clothes and leaving him shivering even in his unconscious state. The wide shore was quiet, with only the whispers of the wind and the cries of distant seabirds echoing across the open space.His lips were pale, his face drained of all color except for faint bruises marking his jaw and cheek from the beating he had suffered. His hands were limp by his sides, fingers twitching slightly whenever a wave touched them. He had no sword, no strength, and no idea where he was. The river had dragged him mercilessly, the ocean had tossed him around like a lost leaf, and the shore had finally clai