Chapter 4 Predator and prey

The door creaked open, letting in a cold breeze from the harbor.

The man who walked in didn't look like a threat at first glance, anyway. He was tall, broad across the shoulders without looking bulky, and carried himself with the kind of smooth posture that came from never having to worry about where his next meal was coming from. His gray wool coat looked expensive and was tailored to fit him perfectly. His dark hair was cut short, neat, and clean around his ears.

Davan Rell.

Jorren didn't move from his stool. Underneath his worn linen shirt, the codex pressed hard against his ribs. He casually rested his right arm across his chest, tucking the book deeper into the shadow of his jacket.

Davan didn't look at the Keeper. He didn't even acknowledge the old man standing by the open doorway. His eyes went straight to Jorren, tracking the movement of his arm, the angle of his posture, the slight tension in his shoulders.

"So this is the crack," Davan said.

His voice was calm, smooth, and emotionless. There was no anger or mockery in it. He sounded like someone that was studying something strange.

"Davan," the Keeper said as he closed the door behind him and locked it with a wooden bolt. "You're late."

"The guild workers were clearing the third tier plaza," Davan said as he took two slow steps into the messy room. He didn't wait for permission. He simply walked farther in. Picking up a small brass tool from a shelf, he turned it over in his fingers before placing it back.

"They were worried about the stone. Someone cracked one of the main pillars during a basic test. The rumor was that a high grade practitioner had lost control of their essence." He looked back at Jorren with his pale gray eyes. "Imagine how embarrassed they'll be when they find out it was just a zero grade boy from the slums."

Jorren met his gaze. He didn't flinch, move, or say anything to defend himself.

Honestly, he’d heard worse from the shopkeepers down on the docks before he was twelve. If Davan expected him to get defensive or blush with shame over his family name, he was going to be standing there for a long time.

"You're staring," Jorren said quietly.

Davan let out a quiet hum and took another step forward until only a few feet separated them. Up close, the difference between them was obvious. Davan looked like the perfect example of a skilled practitioner, calm, confident, and well put together. Jorren looked like a boy pulled from the slums, thin and rough, wearing old clothes that had been passed down several times before reaching him.

"I'm just trying to understand," Davan said calmly. He leaned forward a little and looked at Jorren's right hand, which was still hidden in his coat pocket.

"The Keeper doesn't take in people out of pity. He hasn't accepted a new student since he took me in eight months ago. That means what happened in that chamber wasn't an accident. Your soul architecture didn't just fail." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "It swallowed the reading."

"It cracked the stone," Jorren said. "That’s all the report says."

"Reports are written by officials like Sel Voras to stop people from asking questions," Davan said quietly. "Before I came here, I examined the energy left around the spire. The stone didn't break because you were weak, Jorren. It broke because something is missing inside your soul architecture. When you touched the pillar, it tried to absorb all of its energy to fill that empty space."

Jorren clenched his jaw but kept his breathing calm. To be fair, the man was good. He hadn't seen the codex or the silver pattern glowing beneath Jorren's skin, yet he had figured out what happened just by reading the traces of energy left outside the trial room.

"Does that bother you?" Jorren asked.

"Bother me?" Davan let out a short laugh that never reached his eyes. "Why would it? A cracked bowl can't hold water. No matter how much water you pour into it, it will always leak out."

He stood up straight and calmly adjusted the sleeves of his coat.

"You can keep trying if you want. You can absorb all the essence the Keeper gives you. But in the end, a zero grade is still a zero grade. The rules of this world don't care how determined you are."

"You sure talk a lot for someone who followed a zero grade all the way through three miles of muddy roads," Jorren said dryly.

Davan's expression didn't change, but the mood in the room suddenly felt different.

There was no visible aura. But Jorren felt it immediately. A wave of pressure filled the room, making the spot over the codex on his chest ache. It was pure, refined essence flowing from Davan, spreading out like an invisible wall. It wasn't an attack. It was a quiet way of reminding Jorren how far apart they were in strength.

Jorren didn't look away. He let the pressure wash over him, feeling the cracks inside his soul strain under Davan's power. It hurt, a sharp pain in the middle of his chest but he ignored it and kept a blank face. At the same time, he measured the distance between them, the stool beneath him, and the size of the room. If Davan tried to kill him, Jorren knew he would lose. There was no doubt about that. But before he went down, he would make sure Davan's knee went with him.

Davan seemed to read the thought in Jorren’s eyes. The pressure vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the room cold and quiet again.

"Impressive," Davan said with a small smile. He looked genuinely amused now. "You didn't flinch. You didn't try to act tough. You really do think like a cornered rat, don't you?"

"I think like someone who doesn't have time for a speech," Jorren said.

The Keeper stepped forward, his boots sounding heavily against the wooden floor as he moved between them. He didn't look angry, but his presence alone was enough to make it clear the conversation had gone far enough.

"Enough," the old man said simply. "Davan, you have your own conditioning to finish before the midwinter window. Why are you here?"

Davan stepped back and gave the Keeper a respectful nod, but his eyes stayed on Jorren for another second before looking away.

"I wanted to see what the system threw away," Davan said calmly. He reached for the door, then paused as he opened it. Cool, damp night air drifted into the small room. He looked back at Jorren, his face partly hidden by the darkness outside.

"A piece of advice, Thale," Davan said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of danger. "Climbing a mountain is hard enough when you're healthy. Trying to climb it with broken bones will only leave you bleeding before you even reach the top."

Jorren watched him from the stool, his hand resting firm over the hidden codex.

"Are you going to stand in the way?" Jorren asked.

Davan smiled, looking cold and completely unbothered.

"I won't have to," Davan said, stepping out into the fog. "The mountain will break you long before you ever reach me."