Embers of Reputation

Descending from the highlands, they entered a valley dotted with struggling farmsteads. Lyrus walked the dusty roads, each step measured, his aura contained. Villagers peered from doorways, uncertain. The HellSin name carried a distant echo—some claimed a HellSin prodigy was traveling with unmatched strength, protecting the weak.

Lyrus never boasted. His cool gaze and even tone reassured those they met. He helped lift a fallen cart with effortless grace. Children gaped as he set it upright, not a bead of sweat on his brow. Kael offered quiet thanks and Alyra watched with a hint of pride. Together, they exemplified quiet competence.

They moved on, leaving villagers murmuring about the polite warrior who handled impossible burdens as if weightless. People said, "HellSin," testing the name on their tongues, uncertain yet intrigued. Rumors drifted along trade routes.

That evening, Lyrus meditated, refining his internal control. He could now harness the system's power with a mere shift of stance, subtle enough that neither Kael nor Alyra questioned it. This mastery allowed him to appear calm under any pressure. As stars wheeled overhead, Lyrus smiled faintly. Day by day, step by step, the HellSin legacy smoldered brighter.