Night deepened. The campfire’s sound faded into weak sputtering embers, and all noisy party sounds were swallowed by the night curtain.

  Theo lay there, restless in wakefulness. Though his body was exhausted after a day of training and his mind still held the dazed aftershocks of excessive mana absorption, sleep stubbornly refused to come.

  Beside him, Liam had found peaceful rest, breathing steady and deep. That tranquility only made Theo feel more isolated in his own restlessness. Sighing very softly, Theo carefully lifted the blanket, quietly crawling outside, avoiding any sound that might disturb Liam's dreams. He needed to breathe the quiet night air.

  Theo stepped out of the sleeping area. Dim light from the remaining dying fire painted a contemplative silhouette.

  Ryel sat there.

  Ryel's platinum hair cascaded down like a waterfall, shimmering like molten silver. His face, usually cold as a blade, now appeared softer and more refined, clearly revealing his mysterious elven bloodline. His typically sharp amber eyes now only reflected firelight, carrying an indescribable distant nostalgia.

  Draped in a form-fitting dark forest-green leather hunter's outfit that emphasized his powerful frame, Ryel presented a contradictory beauty: strong yet wandering.

  In his hands was an intricately carved wooden instrument, silver strings glimmering as they were plucked. Those long, fingers more accustomed to delivering death—now gently glided across the strings.

  The deep melody drifted through the night air, mingling with wind, hiding in moonlight—sometimes gentle, sometimes melancholic. It was both plaintive as the lament of the past and dreamy, full of hope for the future.

  Ryel closed his eyes, completely immersed, letting music carry away all burdens. The flame danced to the music's rhythm, reflecting on his face a strange beauty, both ethereal and powerful. In that moment, he was no longer the death-dealing Ranger Warrior but a free spirit finding solace in melody and vast darkness.

  The sound current pulled Theo's mind across grasslands, through deep forests, over profound lakes, leaving him still for a long while. The piece had lifted him from physical exhaustion and tense rational analysis.

  When the instrument's sound faded, leaving only crackling fire, Theo slowly approached the artist. He sat down without speaking first. At this moment, only his heart melted from the recent melody. The silence between them held no awkwardness.

  It took a long while, when Theo's heartbeat had returned to necessary stability, before he gently broke the silence: "What is it called?"

  Ryel still held the instrument, amber eyes gazing deep into the dying fire. He spoke. It wasn't ordinary speech but a unique, richly melodic sound sequence carrying a complex tonal system, each tone bearing distinct pitch and intonation.

  Just one eight-syllable sentence already contained graceful tonal variation, like silver droplets flowing through stone crevices.

  Ryel briefly glanced at Theo, then translated simply: "If literally translated it's quite long, but you can understand it as 'Touching Dreams and What's Hidden Within.'"

  Theo spoke again, gaze fixed on the instrument in Ryel's hands. Under firelight, its mysterious ancient beauty became more prominent. The body was crafted from rare ebony, bearing pure black like a moonless night, radiating strength yet full of elegance. Exquisite carved lines undulated like wind, and the strings were slender yet extraordinarily durable silver threads.

  "And what about it," Theo asked softly, maintaining a curious tone, "what's its name?"

  Ryel gently placed the instrument on his lap, the sound emerging from his mouth lighter and gentler than passing wind. Those long fingers, usually sharp on bowstrings, now glided lightly, affectionately across the cold ebony wood. His amber eyes brimmed with deep respect and love, a rarely seen expression. Then he spoke again: "Translated, it's 'To Katasha,' and this instrument type is called Vannis."

  Theo asked seriously: "Where can I purchase a Vannis?"

  Ryel turned to look at Theo, observing. His amber eyes held surprise at such a blunt, transactional question.

  He shook his head slightly, a half-smile appearing, but didn't answer Theo immediately. He continued stroking the instrument, as if meticulously maintaining it with his fingers once more. After a moment, he spoke, his voice as if talking to himself:

  —"Vannis isn't something you can buy at the market, Theo. It's a regional instrument, typically crafted by Elves. The body is made from Aetherium Wood, and the strings are the most special part—they're made from Elven hair. You know, Theo, Aetherium Wood is magical wood that only grows around forests in Sylvanius. It has no particular special properties, but it's the primary material for Vannis bodies."

  Strumming the strings, he went on:

  "As for strings, Elves typically collect it when hair naturally falls. You certainly wouldn't know this—Elven hair rarely falls naturally, but those naturally fallen strands have excellent magical conductivity. When these strands combine with Aetherium Wood, they're like veins and muscles. Just channel mana and the instrument comes alive. It's used in special compositions Elves create specifically for it."

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  While speaking, Ryel gently ran his fingers across the strings once more, a complex sound sequence with extremely wide range resonating, affirming its value. "Usually, a Vannis are inherited items, or given by lovers, family. This is my treasure."

  This time Ryel looked at Theo as if emphasizing its non-monetary value. "Do you understand now how inappropriate your question was, Theo?"

  Theo truly hadn't expected this instrument to hold such high spiritual value. Truly, its sound was too beautiful—he'd been nearly enchanted by the recent piece and couldn't restrain that emotionally-driven question. Despite some lingering regret, Theo recognized his thoughtlessness. He bowed solemnly to Ryel: "I apologize, sir. I didn't realize its significance was so great."

  Ryel nodded slightly in acceptance. He didn't continue conversing, only focused on playing music. New melody poured forth, considerably lighter and gentler than the previous piece, like gentle winds gliding across a midnight lake, bringing deep comfort and relaxation.

  Theo understood. He didn't disturb Ryel further, quietly adding several logs to the dying fire then sitting down. In the quiet, warm atmosphere, he relaxed his exhausted body, completely immersing himself in that rare musical flow.

  "Theo, wake up, it's time to depart!" Liam's voice was full of worry. "It's really rare for you to wake up late—was the exercise too exhausting?"

  Theo jolted awake, slightly dizzy from lack of sleep. Last night, he'd listened to Ryel's music until very late, then had just silently watched the firelight. With his head still somewhat uncomfortable, he signaled Liam not to worry, wanting to go to the stream to wash his face and clear his mind.

  Taking a towel, Theo stepped outside the camp. The dim dawn light shining through dew drops on the leaves made him squint. Taking a deep breath to let the damp air carrying earth scent fill his lungs, the exhausted feeling eased considerably.

  Quickly reaching the stream bank, a figure surprised Theo. Finn, the vice-captain, was also using stream water for personal hygiene. This was very rare. Finn was one of the earliest risers with very high discipline; his work checking logistics and notifying the caravan masters was a morning routine. His appearance here when everyone was breaking camp was extremely unusual. Theo noticed even Finn's eyes had slight dark circles—clearly he was also sleep-deprived.

  Seeing Theo approach, Finn smiled in greeting: "Good morning, Theo."

  Theo nodded, lightly punching Finn's shoulder in a friendly manner. No need for excessive communication—someone as perceptive as Finn had already guessed much of the recruit's temperament. Theo had never hidden his personality from new teammates: simple and pragmatic was what he always displayed.

  Finn laughed, speaking softly so only Theo could hear: "Last night's music was amazing, wasn't it?" After speaking, he even winked at Theo.

  Somewhat surprised by this statement, Theo paused mid-motion, looking up at Finn: "You heard it too?"

  Finn nodded: "Every year on this day, Ryel asks the captain for the night watch off and plays the Vannis until morning. I discovered it by chance, then fell in love with his music without knowing when." Finn's voice had a dreamy quality as if recalling last night's music.

  Theo agreed with this statement: "It was truly magical." Ryel's music was very different from anything Theo had known. It wasn't mystical like hypnosis or magic, but it truly touched the heart with powerful emotion. Somehow, the magical music Ryel played seemed to portray the artist's true emotions. Not to mention, the Vannis with its extremely wide tonal range and polyphonic capability further helped the artist paint emotions with colorful music. Theo felt like using another sense to hear music—it was truly magical.

  "Right, truly magical, right?" Finn said with a rarely seen excited voice. Seeing Finn's sparkling eyes, Theo suddenly shivered. That look was no different from those crazy K-pop idol fans in his past life. He quickly dismissed the thought of Finn holding a lightstick and shouting Ryel's name from his mind, lest it pollute G.

  He heard Finn continue: "But it's quite rare for Ryel to play in front of you. Once when Sable also accidentally discovered it, Ryel immediately stopped after finishing one piece and went elsewhere. So each year I only dare secretly listen from afar, afraid of losing this precious performance."

  Theo heard jealousy in Finn's voice—probably an illusion. Then Finn spoke with a regretful tone: "We won't be able to hear it again until next year. Haizzz."

  Theo also nodded; he also felt it was somewhat regrettable. Especially the Vannis—his interest in it was truly great. Only unfortunately, obtaining one was probably impossible. With Ebonwood and Elven hair that had to be naturally shed. Just hearing about it, he knew they were all hard-to-find materials, not to mention the crafting process. Looking at the materials, he knew this must be an Elven specialty instrument. Probably only the Sylvanius region could find craftsmen; in this Southeast Aethelgard area, how could he find one?

  It was such a good instrument, yet they didn’t know how to expand its culture, expand production so everyone can share—truly regrettable.

  The two young men sighed briefly while quickly completing personal hygiene to return to formation. They were already very late; they needed to catch up with the group.

  The morning training session maintained high intensity, even slightly faster according to Theo's strict requirements: Every day must progress beyond yesterday, even if only a small fraction. Under that disciplined grind, time passed no different from sand flowing through fingers. Dinner again quietly arrived after the exhausted gasping of two recruits.

  After dinner, Theo didn't forget tonight's goal. He would borrow books from Rowan to read—or more precisely, he would use them to copy into his library. Though he wasn’t currently lacking reading material due to last night's Trainer knowledge pile, magic books were still something irresistible.