Cael stared at the request board in the guild hall, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Missions covered the wooden surface like feathers on a bird—retrievals, deliveries, minor monster subjugations. Each one promised some jewel, most of them modest.
He'd already done a delivery. Now it was time for something new.
"I think this one's good for you," Mira said, suddenly beside him.
Cael jumped slightly, flinching just enough to cause a snort of laughter from her.
He cleared his throat, regaining composure. "Which one?"
She handed him a small slip. "Retrieve a broken enchanted lantern from a shrine near the edge of Oak Town. Simple, low risk. But you'll have to go inside the ruins."
"Ruins," he echoed.
"Old, quiet ones. Just watch your step."
He nodded. "I'll take it."
The journey to Oak Town was longer than his last mission. The roads were clear, but the overcast sky hinted at rain. Cael didn't mind. He kept moving, stopping now and then to jot down notes about mana flow in the air, or sketch wildflowers with strange magical signatures.
At one point, he took apart and reassembled a small mana meter he'd bought from a merchant. Just to see how it ticked.
It didn't work better afterward, but it did tick louder.
The shrine itself was nestled in the edge of a deep grove. Moss-covered stone pillars circled it, vines twisting over cracked runes. The lantern in question sat on an altar in the center, long since broken. When Cael stepped closer, a ripple of magic tingled against his skin.
"Barrier rune," he murmured. "Failing. Probably keyed to the lantern."
He pulled out a glove with embedded sensory threads—one of his early ideas—and reached forward. The moment he touched the lantern, the air shifted. A faint hum echoed in the ruins. A flicker of violet energy sparked at his fingertips.
"...Interesting."
He gently lifted the object and placed it into a reinforced satchel. As soon as it was sealed, the hum stopped.
No ghosts. No monsters. Just silence.
When he returned, Mira and Makarov both inspected the relic.
"No damage, no curse, no trouble," Mira confirmed.
"You're good at quiet jobs," Makarov said, stroking his mustache. "But one day, you'll need to get your hands dirty."
"I'll cross that bridge when I build it," Cael replied.
Makarov chuckled. "That's not how the saying goes, boy."
"For me, it is."
Days passed. Cael did three more missions—each one basic, clean, and uneventful. The guild began to recognize his pattern: quiet, efficient, oddly intense. Some members called him "the labcoat," even though he didn't wear one.
He spent his free time in the library, buried in books on enchantments and ancient relics. He took notes obsessively, half of which only made sense to him.
He also had a growing sketchbook filled with inventions—some practical, others ridiculous. One design included a floating teacup launcher. He refused to explain it.
Despite everything, he was… comfortable. The guild's chaos had become familiar. The noise no longer grated. Mira would bring him tea without being asked. Levy would pop by to debate rune theory.
Even Natsu only set him on fire twice.
One night, Cael sat at his desk, flipping through his notes when a thought came to him—sharp, clear, intrusive.
"Where am I going to sleep long-term?"
His current room was temporary, loaned by the guild. If he planned to stay—really stay—he'd need a place.
He closed his book and stood.
"I should find a home."
The next morning, he asked Mira for help. She was surprised, but excited.
"There's a few places near the outskirts of Magnolia," she said. "Kind of worn down, but cheap. Might suit you."
He followed her to a hill overlooking the southern edge of the city. There, tucked between trees and stone paths, was a crooked little house with peeling paint, a broken gate, and a roof that looked like it might slide off in the next rain.
"I love it," Cael said immediately.
Mira blinked. "...Really?"
"It has character. Potential. It's broken in just the right ways."
"Like you?" she teased.
He looked at her. "Exactly."
They spent the afternoon cleaning the front steps. Cael talked about turning the cellar into a lab, and Mira offered advice on fortifying the walls with magic-infused clay.
It was the first time he let someone into his space—even if it wasn't finished yet.
By nightfall, it was his.
He stood outside, gazing at the crooked windows and twisted chimney, and felt something click into place.
Home.
(To be continued in Chapter 8...)