Omniscient Gacha you are too expensive!!

The sound of laughter echoed through the village square as Rayne dashed around the corner of the bakery, his heart pounding in his chest. Behind him, Marcus was shouting, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement.

"Rayne, you little thief! Get back here!"

Clutched in Rayne's hands was a small sack of candy—a prize he had "borrowed" from Marcus during their latest game of "heist and chase." It was a tradition among the village children, a game of wits and speed where the objective was to outsmart your friends and keep the loot.

"Catch me if you can!" Rayne called over his shoulder, weaving through the market stalls with practiced agility.

The villagers barely batted an eye. They were used to the antics of the local kids, their shouts and laughter a regular part of the bustling market scene.

Rayne skidded to a halt near the well, his chest heaving as he glanced around for an escape route. Marcus wasn't far behind, and he knew he wouldn't have much time.

"Looking for this?"

Rayne turned to see Sienna standing by the well, holding a stick with a piece of cloth tied to it like a makeshift flag. Her mischievous grin mirrored his own, and he knew immediately that she was about to make things more complicated.

"Sienna," he said cautiously, "what are you doing?"

"I'm declaring myself the Queen of Candy," she said dramatically, pointing the stick at him. "Hand over the loot, or face the wrath of my mighty army!"

"What army?" Rayne asked, glancing around.

As if on cue, two other kids—Emma and Lucas—popped out from behind a nearby stall, their faces lit with excitement.

Rayne groaned. "Traitors."

"Get him!" Sienna shouted, waving her stick like a battle standard.

The three of them charged at Rayne, and he had no choice but to bolt. He darted through the square, dodging barrels and crates as the kids closed in around him. The candy sack in his hand was growing heavier, and he knew he couldn't keep this up forever.

Finally, he spotted an opening—a narrow alley between two houses. He ducked into it, pressing himself against the wall as the sound of footsteps thundered past.

When the coast was clear, he peeked out and saw his pursuers looking around, confused.

"Where'd he go?" Lucas asked, scratching his head.

"Split up!" Sienna ordered, taking charge of the search.

Rayne couldn't help but smile. His sister's determination was both admirable and hilarious, even if it was currently working against him.

He waited until the group had scattered before slipping out of the alley and making his way back to the well. Placing the candy sack on the stone edge, he tied a note to it:

"To the Queen of Candy: Long may she reign. — The Master Thief"

Satisfied with his handiwork, Rayne turned and walked away, whistling a tune as he headed home.

---

Later That Evening

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Rayne sat with his family at the dinner table, recounting the day's adventures. Sienna, now proudly in possession of the candy sack, was practically glowing with victory.

"And then he just disappeared!" she said, her voice animated. "We looked everywhere, but he was gone!"

Rayne smirked, taking a bite of stew. "Sounds like you need better soldiers, Your Majesty."

Sienna stuck out her tongue at him, but her laughter betrayed her amusement.

Their father chuckled, shaking his head. "You kids are going to give the villagers a heart attack one of these days."

"Better us than the goats," Rayne said, earning a laugh from everyone at the table.

After dinner, Rayne helped his mother clean up while Sienna retreated to her room to count her candy stash. The quiet moments with his parents were some of his favorites, a chance to connect with them without the chaos of the day.

"You've been making a lot of friends lately," his mother said as she scrubbed a plate.

Rayne shrugged. "They're fun to be around. It's nice to have people to talk to."

She smiled, handing him a clean plate to dry. "I'm glad. You've grown so much since we first brought you home, Rayne. It's like you've always been a part of this family."

Her words caught him off guard, and he felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn't thought about it much, but she was right. This life, this family—it felt natural, like it had always been his.

"Thanks, Mom," he said quietly.

She reached out, squeezing his shoulder. "Just keep being yourself, Rayne. That's all we could ever ask for."

As he finished drying the last plate, Rayne glanced out the window at the starry sky. The warmth of his family's love filled him with a sense of peace, but it also reignited the resolve he had felt the night before.

He didn't know what challenges lay ahead, but he knew he would do everything in his power to protect this happiness.

For now, though, he was content to enjoy the laughter, the mischief, and the bonds he was building.

Tomorrow would bring new adventures, and he was ready for them.

The rhythmic clang of hammer against metal filled the air as Rayne approached the blacksmith's forge, his feet crunching against the gravel path. Thick plumes of smoke billowed from the chimney, and the scent of burning coal mixed with the faint tang of molten steel.

This wasn't the first time Rayne had visited the forge, but today wasn't about errands or chores. He was here because the blacksmith, an eccentric old man named Garrek, had promised to teach him something "important."

"Come closer, lad!" Garrek bellowed, his voice like the roar of a bear. The burly man stood over the anvil, his soot-streaked face lit by the glow of the forge.

Rayne stepped into the workshop, dodging piles of scrap metal and half-finished tools. "Morning, Mr. Garrek. What's today's lesson?"

Garrek grinned, his teeth flashing white against his dark beard. "Lesson? Bah! You think I've got time to be teachin' lessons? I've got real work to do!"

Rayne blinked, confused. "But you said—"

"I said I'd show you somethin' important," Garrek interrupted, jabbing a finger at him. "And I will. But first, grab that hammer and prove you're worth my time."

Rayne hesitated, glancing at the hammer resting on the workbench. It was heavier than it looked, the wooden handle worn smooth from years of use.

"Don't just stand there gawkin'!" Garrek barked. "A good smith never hesitates!"

Rayne picked up the hammer, nearly dropping it as its weight pulled his arm down. He adjusted his grip, trying not to let Garrek see him struggle.

"Good," Garrek said, nodding approvingly. "Now, swing it. Hard as you can."

Rayne raised the hammer, his arms trembling slightly, and brought it down on the anvil with all his strength. The resulting clang echoed through the workshop, loud and jarring, but not particularly impressive.

Garrek scratched his beard, pretending to look thoughtful. "Hmm. Not bad for a noodle-armed runt."

"I'm not a runt," Rayne muttered, his cheeks flushing.

Garrek laughed, clapping him on the back with enough force to nearly knock him over. "Don't get your britches in a twist, lad. You've got potential, but you've got a long way to go before you can swing like me!"

To demonstrate, Garrek grabbed his own hammer—a massive, unwieldy thing that looked more like a weapon than a tool—and brought it down on the anvil with a thunderous crash. Sparks flew, and the sheer power of the strike sent a shiver through the floor.

Rayne stared, wide-eyed. "How do you do that?"

"Years of practice," Garrek said, setting the hammer down with ease. "And a bit of muscle, of course. But it ain't just about strength, lad. A good smith knows how to strike with precision. You've gotta feel the rhythm, like a heartbeat."

He tapped the anvil with his finger, his voice softening. "That's what I'm gonna teach you today. Not how to swing a hammer, but how to listen."

Rayne tilted his head, puzzled. "Listen to what?"

Garrek grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "To the metal, boy. Now grab that scrap and let's get started."

---

For the next hour, Rayne worked under Garrek's watchful eye, heating small pieces of metal in the forge and hammering them into shape. It was harder than it looked—the heat was intense, and the hammer felt awkward in his hands.

"Too fast!" Garrek barked as Rayne swung again. "You're just flailin' around like a headless chicken! Slow down and feel the rhythm!"

Rayne gritted his teeth, wiping sweat from his brow. He adjusted his stance, gripping the hammer more firmly. This time, he let the sound guide him—the steady clang of metal against anvil, the hiss of steam as the hot iron cooled.

"That's better," Garrek said, nodding. "Now you're gettin' it. Keep at it."

The hours passed in a blur of heat and noise, but gradually, Rayne began to find his rhythm. Each strike felt more deliberate, more purposeful. By the time the sun began to dip in the sky, he had managed to shape a crude but functional dagger.

"Not bad for your first try," Garrek said, inspecting the blade. "It's rough, but it'll do. Now, what did you learn?"

Rayne thought for a moment, his hands still tingling from the vibrations of the hammer. "That it's not just about strength. You have to work with the metal, not against it."

Garrek grinned, his approval evident. "Exactly. Metal's a stubborn thing, but it's also alive in its own way. Treat it with respect, and it'll give you somethin' worth wieldin'."

Rayne nodded, his respect for the craft growing with each passing moment.

"Now," Garrek said, leaning against the anvil, "you've earned the real lesson."

Rayne's eyes widened. "There's more?"

"Always," Garrek said with a chuckle. He grabbed a stool and sat down, his expression turning serious. "Listen close, lad, because this is the most important thing I'll ever tell you."

Rayne leaned in, his curiosity piqued.

"A good smith," Garrek began, his voice low and steady, "isn't just about makin' tools or weapons. It's about creatin' somethin' that lasts. Somethin' that matters."

He tapped the anvil with his hammer, his gaze distant. "The things we make might seem small, but they're what hold the world together. A plow to feed a family, a sword to protect a kingdom, a simple hinge for a door—every piece has a purpose."

Rayne listened intently, the weight of Garrek's words sinking in.

"Life's the same way," Garrek continued. "It ain't about bein' the strongest or the fastest. It's about findin' your purpose and holdin' onto it. You've got somethin' worth protectin', don't ya?"

Rayne nodded, thinking of his family.

"Good," Garrek said, his tone firm. "Then remember this: a blade's only as strong as the hand that wields it. If you wanna protect what's yours, you've gotta forge yourself into somethin' unbreakable."

The words hit Rayne like a hammer strike, their meaning resonating deep within him.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Garrek smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't thank me yet, lad. You've still got a long road ahead. But if you ever need help, you know where to find me."

As Rayne left the forge that evening, the crude dagger clutched in his hand, he felt a new sense of purpose stirring within him.

Garrek's words had lit a fire in his heart, one that would guide him in the days to come.

He didn't know what challenges lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain: he would forge himself into someone worthy of the life he had been given.

The morning began like any other, with the sun rising lazily over the fields and the villagers starting their daily routines. Rayne was on his way to meet Marcus and the others near the village square, ready for another day of fun and mild chaos. Little did he know, the day was about to take an unexpected turn.

"Rayne! Hurry up!" Marcus waved from the corner of the baker's stall, where he and Sienna were already waiting. Sienna had tagged along again, insisting she wouldn't be left out of today's "adventure."

Rayne jogged over, adjusting the strap of his satchel. "What's the plan this time?"

Marcus grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "We're going to explore Old Man Torrin's barn."

Rayne frowned. "Isn't that the place with the giant goat?"

Sienna's face lit up. "Ooh, the goat! I've heard stories about it! They say it's the size of a horse and can knock down fences with one headbutt!"

"Exactly!" Marcus said, clearly excited. "Think of the challenge! If we can sneak in, take a look around, and get out without being chased, we'll be legends!"

"Or we'll get trampled," Rayne muttered, crossing his arms.

"Don't be a coward," Marcus teased. "Besides, Sienna's braver than you, and she's the youngest here."

"Hey!" Rayne said, glaring at his sister, who was trying (and failing) to hide her grin.

"Fine," Rayne relented, sighing. "But if that goat charges, you're the distraction."

Marcus laughed. "Deal!"

Old Man Torrin's barn stood on the outskirts of the village, surrounded by a weathered wooden fence that looked like it had seen better days. The barn itself was large and imposing, its red paint faded to a dull rust color.

"Okay, here's the plan," Marcus whispered as the group crouched behind a stack of hay bales near the fence. "We climb in, stick together, and stay quiet. If we see the goat, we move slowly and don't make eye contact."

Sienna raised her hand. "What happens if it sees us?"

"Run," Marcus said without hesitation.

Rayne sighed, already regretting this decision. "Great plan, Marcus. Really inspiring."

Marcus ignored him, already scaling the fence with surprising agility. Sienna followed, her small frame slipping through the gaps easily. Rayne was the last to climb over, landing with a soft thud on the other side.

The barn loomed ahead, its double doors slightly ajar. The faint smell of hay and livestock wafted toward them as they crept closer.

"See? Easy," Marcus whispered, pushing one of the doors open wider. "No sign of the goat."

Rayne stepped inside cautiously, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The barn was filled with stacks of hay, old farming tools, and the occasional squeak of a mouse. Everything seemed quiet—too quiet.

"This isn't so bad," Sienna said, wandering over to a pile of hay. "Maybe the goat's asleep."

"Or maybe it's waiting to ambush us," Rayne muttered, keeping a wary eye on the shadows.

---

They had just started exploring when a low, guttural bleat echoed through the barn. The sound sent a chill down Rayne's spine.

"What was that?" Sienna whispered, her voice trembling.

"I think we found the goat," Marcus said, his bravado fading quickly.

From the far corner of the barn, a massive shape emerged. The goat was every bit as large as the rumors had claimed, its shaggy white fur glinting in the dim light. Its eyes gleamed with a strange intelligence, and its horns curved menacingly.

It stared at them for a moment, its nostrils flaring, before letting out another loud bleat.

"Don't move," Marcus hissed, holding up his hands.

The goat took a step forward, its hooves thudding against the wooden floor. Then another step. And another.

"Uh, Marcus?" Rayne said, his voice tight. "I don't think it's stopping."

"Stay calm," Marcus whispered. "It can smell fear."

"Too late," Sienna said, clutching Rayne's arm.

The goat pawed the ground, lowering its head. In an instant, it charged.

"RUN!" Marcus screamed.

The barn erupted into chaos as the group scattered. Rayne grabbed Sienna's hand, dragging her toward the nearest stack of hay as the goat barreled past, narrowly missing them. Marcus wasn't so lucky—the goat's headbutt sent him tumbling into a pile of tools, which clattered noisily to the ground.

"Marcus!" Rayne shouted.

"I'm fine!" Marcus yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Just keep running!"

The goat turned, its eyes locking onto Rayne and Sienna. With another bellow, it charged again.

"This was your idea!" Rayne shouted as he and Sienna sprinted toward the barn doors.

"And it's a great one!" Marcus called back, ducking behind a hay bale.

---

Rayne and Sienna reached the doors just as the goat closed in. Rayne pushed his sister through the gap first before squeezing through himself. The goat slammed into the doors behind them with a loud crash, its horns scraping against the wood.

"That was close," Rayne panted, leaning against the fence.

Sienna giggled, her fear replaced by exhilaration. "That was amazing! Did you see how fast it was?"

"I saw my life flash before my eyes," Rayne muttered, glaring at Marcus as he climbed over the fence to join them.

"Well, we did it," Marcus said, grinning despite the fresh bruise on his arm. "We faced the goat and survived. Legends in the making!"

"Yeah, sure," Rayne said, shaking his head. "Let's just not do it again."

"Oh, come on, Rayne. Don't tell me you didn't have fun," Marcus teased.

Rayne opened his mouth to argue but stopped. Despite the chaos, despite the bruises and the terror, a part of him had enjoyed the adventure. It was reckless and ridiculous, but it was also a memory he would never forget.

"Fine," he admitted, smirking. "It was a little fun."

Sienna beamed, her laughter echoing through the air. "We're the bravest in the village now!"

Rayne rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile. "Sure, Sienna. The bravest."

As they walked back to the village, the sun shining brightly overhead, Rayne felt a sense of camaraderie he hadn't known in his previous life. These were his friends, his family, and even if they drove him crazy, he wouldn't trade them for anything.

The village square was bustling with life as Rayne walked alongside his father, who carried a stack of empty crates on his broad shoulders. Today was market day, a time for trading goods and catching up with neighbors, and Rayne had volunteered to help with their family's stall.

"You've been working hard lately, son," his father said, glancing down at him with a smile. "It's good to see you stepping up. The village is noticing, too."

Rayne felt a flicker of pride at the compliment. "Thanks, Dad. I just want to help out where I can."

"That's a good attitude," his father said, setting the crates down near their spot in the square. "Now, let's see if you can handle the crowd today. Think you're ready to take charge?"

Rayne hesitated. While he was used to helping out at home and in the fields, running the stall was another matter entirely. The thought of dealing with so many people at once was a bit intimidating.

"I'll give it a shot," he said finally, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

His father chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. I'll be nearby if you need me."

Rayne set up the stall quickly, arranging the fresh produce they had brought from their fields: ripe tomatoes, crisp lettuce, and bundles of fragrant herbs. Sienna had tagged along, of course, though she seemed more interested in sampling the wares than helping out.

"Rayne, can I have one of these?" she asked, pointing to a bright red apple.

"We're here to sell, not snack," Rayne said, swatting her hand away playfully.

Sienna pouted but didn't argue, instead settling onto a nearby stool to watch the crowd.

As the morning wore on, the villagers began to approach the stall, their chatter creating a lively hum in the air. Rayne did his best to greet each customer with a smile, weighing produce and counting coins carefully.

"You're doing great," his father said from behind him, carrying another crate to replenish their stock. "Keep it up."

Rayne nodded, feeling a bit more confident with each transaction.

It wasn't long before the first hiccup of the day appeared in the form of a surly older man with a thick gray beard and a sour expression.

"These tomatoes are bruised," the man said, holding one up like it was a personal insult.

Rayne blinked. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Let me—"

"And these herbs?" the man interrupted, waving a bundle of parsley. "Wilted. Do you think I'm made of coin to pay for subpar goods?"

Rayne felt his cheeks flush. "We can replace them for you," he said quickly, reaching for fresher items.

"Better make it quick," the man grumbled, crossing his arms.

Sienna, ever the troublemaker, piped up from her stool. "Maybe you should grow your own veggies if you're going to complain so much!"

Rayne nearly dropped the tomatoes, his eyes widening. "Sienna!"

The man turned, glaring at her. "What did you say, girl?"

Sienna stuck out her tongue. "You heard me!"

Rayne jumped in before things could escalate further. "I'm sorry, sir. She didn't mean it. Here, these are fresh. No charge."

The man harrumphed but took the replacements, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

"Sienna," Rayne hissed, turning to his sister. "What were you thinking?"

"He was being rude!" Sienna said, crossing her arms. "I don't like it when people talk to you like that."

Rayne sighed, crouching down so he was at eye level with her. "I appreciate it, but you can't talk to customers like that. This is important for the family, okay?"

Sienna bit her lip, looking guilty. "Okay… I'm sorry."

Rayne ruffled her hair, smiling. "It's all right. Just try to keep your sass under control."

The rest of the morning passed more smoothly, though Rayne stayed on high alert for any potential trouble. He found himself juggling multiple tasks at once—answering questions, making change, and keeping Sienna entertained—all while maintaining a friendly demeanor.

By the time the market began to wind down, he was exhausted but proud of how he had handled the day.

"You did well," his father said as they packed up the stall. "You kept your cool, even when things got tricky. That's an important skill."

"Thanks, Dad," Rayne said, his arms aching as he lifted a crate. "It's harder than it looks."

His father chuckled. "Life's like that, son. But you're learning, and that's what matters."

As they loaded the last of the crates onto their cart, Rayne glanced at Sienna, who was busy chasing a butterfly near the edge of the square. Despite the chaos she had caused earlier, he couldn't help but smile at her carefree spirit.

"Hey, Sienna!" he called.

She turned, skipping over to him. "What?"

"Good job not stealing any apples," he teased.

Sienna grinned, her earlier guilt forgotten. "I was tempted, but I'm saving my skills for something bigger."

Rayne laughed, shaking his head. "Let's just get home."

That evening, as the family gathered around the dinner table, Rayne shared the day's events with his mother, who laughed at the story of Sienna's outburst.

"You're becoming quite the little entrepreneur," she said, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Maybe we'll let you run the stall more often."

"Only if Sienna promises to behave," Rayne said, shooting his sister a mock glare.

"I'll be good!" Sienna said, holding up her hands innocently.

The room filled with laughter, the warmth of their bond wrapping around them like a blanket.

Later, as Rayne lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, he thought about everything he had learned that day. Responsibility wasn't just about hard work—it was about staying calm under pressure, handling challenges with grace, and supporting the people who relied on you.

He still had a lot to learn, but he was ready for whatever came next.

With a small smile, he closed his eyes, the sound of his family's laughter still echoing in his mind.

The stars were bright that night, scattering across the dark canvas of the sky like a thousand tiny lanterns. Rayne sat on a small hill overlooking the village, his knees pulled to his chest as he gazed up at the constellations. The gentle hum of crickets filled the air, mingling with the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Sienna was beside him, her head resting against his shoulder. She had insisted on staying up late to "stargaze like adventurers," though she was already yawning every few minutes.

"Rayne?" she murmured, her voice soft.

"Yeah?"

"What do you think is out there?" She waved a hand vaguely toward the horizon. "Beyond the forest and the hills. Do you think there are dragons? Or castles? Or—" She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Monsters?"

Rayne chuckled, his breath visible in the cool night air. "Maybe. Probably. The world's big, Sienna. Bigger than we can imagine."

"Do you want to see it someday?"

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on the stars. The thought of leaving the village, of venturing into the unknown, had crossed his mind more than once. But the idea of abandoning the life he had built here, the family he loved—it wasn't an easy choice.

"Maybe," he said finally. "But only if I'm strong enough to come back. I couldn't leave you and Mom and Dad without knowing I could protect you."

Sienna tilted her head to look up at him, her purple eyes wide. "You're already strong, Rayne. Stronger than anyone I know."

He smiled, ruffling her hair. "Thanks, but I've still got a long way to go."

They sat in silence for a while, the cool grass beneath them and the stars above creating a sense of calm. Rayne's thoughts drifted to the events of the day—the chaos of the market, the lessons from his father, and the camaraderie he felt with his friends.

But beneath it all, he could feel the faint pull of something more. The Gacha System.

It had been quiet since that night when it first appeared, the translucent screen flickering to life before vanishing into the ether. But the memory of it lingered, a constant reminder that his journey was only just beginning.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small coin he had found a few days ago—a simple token with a strange, intricate design etched into its surface. He had no idea what it meant or if it was connected to the System, but something about it felt significant.

Turning the coin over in his fingers, Rayne let his thoughts wander. If the System was a tool, a way to grow stronger, then it was his responsibility to use it wisely. But earning the points for a draw would take time, and he wasn't sure what challenges he might face along the way.

"You're thinking too much," Sienna said, breaking his reverie.

Rayne blinked, looking down at her. "What?"

"You always get that look when you're thinking about something big," she said, poking his cheek. "Stop worrying so much. You're Rayne. You can do anything."

Her confidence in him was almost overwhelming, and he felt a surge of determination.

"Thanks, Sienna," he said softly.

"Don't mention it." She yawned again, her eyes drooping. "But if you ever find a dragon, you have to let me ride it, okay?"

Rayne laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet night. "Deal."

The next day began early, with Rayne helping his father mend a section of the fence that had been damaged by a wandering boar. The work was tiring but satisfying, and by the time they finished, the sun was high in the sky.

"Good job," his father said, patting him on the back. "That should hold for a while."

Rayne nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. "What's next?"

His father grinned. "That's it for today. Go have some fun. You've earned it."

Rayne hesitated, glancing toward the woods at the edge of the fields. He had been curious about the area for a while now, but his parents had always warned him to stay close to the village.

"Maybe I'll explore a little," he said.

His father raised an eyebrow. "The woods?"

"Just the edge," Rayne said quickly. "I won't go far."

His father studied him for a moment before nodding. "All right. But be careful. And take your dagger, just in case."

Rayne retrieved the crude dagger he had forged with Garrek, tucking it into his belt before setting off.

The air was cooler beneath the canopy of trees, the sunlight filtering through the leaves in dappled patterns. Rayne moved carefully, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any signs of movement.

It wasn't long before he found a small clearing, where a cluster of wildflowers grew around a fallen log. The sight was peaceful, almost magical, and he felt a sense of wonder as he knelt to examine the flowers.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The voice startled him, and he spun around, his hand instinctively going to his dagger.

To his relief, it was only Marcus, leaning against a nearby tree with a smug grin.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Marcus said, holding up his hands. "What are you doing out here?"

"Just exploring," Rayne said, relaxing. "What about you?"

"Same," Marcus said, stepping into the clearing. "This is my favorite spot. Found it a couple of months ago. It's quiet, you know? A good place to think."

Rayne nodded, understanding the sentiment. They sat together on the fallen log, talking about nothing and everything—Marcus's dreams of becoming a warrior, Rayne's aspirations to protect his family, and the possibility of adventure beyond the village.

By the time they returned to the village, the sun was beginning to set, casting the fields in a warm golden light.

That night, as Rayne lay in bed, he thought about everything he had seen and heard that day. The world was vast and full of wonders, but it was also full of challenges.

He didn't know what the future held, but he was determined to face it head-on.

For now, though, he would savor these quiet moments—the laughter of his family, the bonds of friendship, and the simple joys of village life.

The journey would come soon enough.