After adding Vena to the team, the seven of us headed back toward the Freelancer Guild together, our footsteps echoing against the stone streets. For the first time since the challenge was issued, the group felt… complete.

  “So,” I said after a moment, breaking the silence, “what’s next?”

  Raik did not hesitate. “We upgrade equipment. And we secure Soulbook subscriptions for those who need them.”

  Calr stopped walking.

  “You’re getting us Soulbooks?” he asked, incredulous.

  “That’s too generous,” Vena added immediately, her brow creasing.

  “That reminds me,” I said, glancing at her. “I promised to get you a Soulbook, too, Vena. Sorry, I completely forgot.”

  “Ah… right,” she said, hesitating. “You did say that.”

  Raik frowned. “I thought I was the one paying for everyone’s books, as payment for helping me with the challenge.”

  “Vena only has the Perfect State Soulbook,” I shrugged. “She still has two open slots. We could both contribute.”

  Calr exhaled sharply. “You’re talking about spending silver like it’s nothing,” he muttered. “You know my help isn’t worth whatever you’re planning to spend on me.”

  Vena nodded in agreement, lips pressed together.

  Even Kan looked like she was about to speak, but after glancing around the group, she decided against it and stayed quiet.

  “Well,” Ja’a said, “it's not like he is paying gold for custom-made books; most Soulbooks from the Outspring shop are shared subscriptions. One book for many users. Raik’s, on the other hand, are linked only to him.”

  That caught my attention. “How does that work?” I asked, deliberately shifting the conversation away from debt and gratitude.

  “They’re bound directly to my soul,” Raik said calmly. “Like your spear. Or your bag of holding. It makes them stronger, more intuitive, and perfectly tailored to my affinities.”

  “Where can I get one?” I asked immediately.

  “I’m afraid you can’t,” he replied. “Not unless you personally know a Soulscribe willing to do the work. Mine was made by the only Soulscribe under my mother’s jurisdiction.”

  “I suppose I could ask Ko’i,” I mused, “but he’s probably buried himself decoding ancient script.”

  I kept speaking with Raik about the advantages of custom Soulbooks as the rest of the team followed along in silence. By the time we reached the Freelancer Guild gates, I was already reconsidering what I wanted to put in my one remaining slot.

  That was when Raik flagged down a messenger boy.

  “Tell my brother, Commander Kitchi Agame, to meet us at the Outspring Soulbook shop,” he said calmly. “You’ll find him in his office.”

  “You’re calling your brother?” I asked, glancing at him.

  “He spent twelve years as a freelancer before becoming a commander,” Raik replied. “If anyone can advise us on the right Soulbooks, it’s him.”

  I nodded slowly.

  That made sense.

  Because if I were being honest with myself, I still had no idea what kind of magic I wanted to place in my last free slot.

  “I just hope his advice will not be ‘get rid of the dead weight,’” Calr joked weakly, thumbing his own chest with forced humor.

  No one laughed, but Ja’a did pat him on the back.

  We reached the Outspring Soulbook shop soon after. Calr stepped forward first, pushing the door open with practiced familiarity.

  “Sister, I’m here, and I brought compa…”

  He froze mid-sentence.

  Behind the counter, Sara, his sister, a former temple orphan and magical librarian, was hugging Ko’i Outspring. It wasn’t just hugging him; she was bouncing slightly on her heels, laughing in pure, unrestrained excitement.

  Ko’i, heir to the Outspring house, one of Hano’s founding lineages, with a direct descent from the First Soulscribe, was just as animated.

  Even Ki’i, the teenage assistant, was clapping enthusiastically from behind the counter.

  It took me only a second to register that this wasn’t romantic. It was celebratory. Some kind of shared triumph.

  Calr, however, stood stiff as stone.

  I heard him mutter, very quietly, something about never being able to offer his sister a proper dowry fit for joining a noble family.

  Then they noticed us.

  Instead of embarrassment, both Sara and Ko’i rushed forward and pulled me into an embrace as well.

  “We did it,” Sara said breathlessly.

  “And it’s thanks to you,” Ko’i added, grinning. “And the book you found.”

  I blinked.

  I was fairly sure I had asked not to be named as the source of that book. Still… it was difficult to be upset at Sara when she looked this happy.

  “So,” I asked once the hugging finally loosened, “did you decode the ancient language?”

  Sara laughed and shook her head, finally dragging her brother Calr into a one-armed hug. “Not even close.”

  “But,” Ko’i said smoothly, clearly proud, “she cracked the most important riddle.”

  That caught my full attention. “And what did you discover?” I asked. “If you don’t mind sharing.”

  Ko’i didn’t hesitate. “The script isn’t symbolic the way we assumed. It’s incremental.”

  “Incremental?” I echoed.

  “Yes,” Sara said, eyes bright now, slipping into lecture mode. “Each consonant is a base glyph. You add a vowel or other marks on top of it to change the sound. It may look like one symbol, but it has a layered meaning.”

  My breath caught.

  “So it’s not a pictographic language,” I murmured. “It’s phonetic.”

  Ko’i nodded, unconcerned about the information leaking. “Exactly. A modular alphabet. Once you understand that, entire sections of the text stop being nonsense.”

  I couldn’t stop smiling.

  That explained so much, the repeating structures, the looping patterns. It was just… complex linguistics.

  And suddenly, the plausibility of teleportation Soulbooks became less and less impossible.

  Ko’i was the first to notice Raik standing just behind me.

  “Well,” he said, straightening with a pleased smile, “if it isn’t Kitchi’s youngest brother. I hope you aren’t as much of a troublemaker as he is.”

  Raik snorted. “You know us, Agame. Trouble always finds us.”

  Ko’i laughed and clasped Raik’s forearm in greeting. Then his gaze shifted to Calr.

  “And you must be Sara’s brother,” he said warmly. “She’s been an enormous help. Truly. I couldn’t have made half the progress I did without her.”

  Calr blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… I’m glad,” he managed.

  Ko’i turned back to Sara and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Keep working on the translation. Don’t lose the thread now that you’ve found it. I’ll handle our guests.”

  Sara nodded, torn between the excitement of finding new discoveries and wanting to help her brother’s team. “Thank you, sir.”

  With that settled, Ko’i gestured for us to follow.

  Instead of leading us into the usual guest area, the modest side room where Sara normally took me, he guided us up a wide staircase to the first floor. The room we entered was far larger than I expected: a private sitting room furnished with deep couches, low lacquered tables, and shelves lined with sealed tomes and artifact cases. Soft light filtered through tall windows, illuminating subtle runes etched into the walls.

  Fancy didn’t quite cover it.

  We had just taken our seats when Ki’i appeared with a tray, serving tea with careful precision before bowing and retreating without a word.

  The atmosphere was starting to shift from casual to business when footsteps sounded in the hall. The door opened, and a tall man in a commander’s coat stepped inside. His posture was relaxed, but authority clung to him like a second skin.

  “Ko’i,” he said warmly. “It’s been too long.”

  “Too long indeed,” Ko’i replied, rising to greet him.

  “Kitchi, I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” Raik added.

  “Of course,” Commander Kitchi Agame said with a grin. “Barely a few weeks back in Hano, and you’re already facing a promotion challenge. I expected nothing less from my kid brother.”

  He took a seat, his sharp eyes moving slowly from one face to the next. He didn’t rush.

  I had the distinct feeling of being weighed and measured without a single word spoken.

  Finally, his gaze returned to Raik.

  “So,” he said, folding his hands together, “this is the team you’re betting a month of your life on.”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The tea remained untouched.

  “Allow me to introduce everyone,” Raik said. “You already know Ja’a and Katar.”

  “Katar’s always been solid,” Kitchi said. “You can never go wrong with him. But keep that Ja’a girl safe, will you? She has the combat instincts of a mushroom.”

  “Hey,” Ja’a muttered, but didn’t protest much.

  “She’ll only be scouting,” Raik replied. “Using her Seer ability to locate monsters for extermination jobs.”

  Kitchi nodded. Ja’a, surprisingly, let it go.

  “This is Vena,” Raik continued. “A cleric of the Holy. She’ll be in charge of healing.”

  “Perfect,” Kitchi said. “I’ve rarely worked with Holy clerics, but when it comes to healing, they’re undoubtedly the best.”

  “Next is Alice Hecate,” Raik said. “She…”

  “I already know the teleporter,” Kitchi cut in, smirking. “Quite the bloodthirsty little killer when she gets pissed.”

  I stiffened.

  “Enough,” Ko’i said sharply. “I know Alice well. She’s born to be a scholar. Don’t corrupt her with your freelancer nonsense.”

  I had promised myself I wouldn’t do freelancer work again after the Pikar Steppe.

  And yet… here I was.

  I looked at Kitchi in his armor, then at Ko’i in his robes.

  Freelancer or Scholar… I kept swinging between the two paths, whether I liked it or not.

  Raik cleared his throat and moved on. “This is Calr and Shingo.”

  “Marksman and frontline,” Kitchi said after a glance. “They’ll do just fine.”

  Calr looked surprised at the approval. The man was smart, but he needed more self-esteem.

  Kitchi’s attention shifted, lingering on Kan. His eyes narrowed slightly… then he smiled.

  “Kan Karda,” he said casually, “since when did you and my brother start dating?”

  I was in the middle of sipping my tea.

  I spat it everywhere.

  Raik nearly choked.

  “That… no,” he said quickly. “That’s not…”

  Kan, however, answered calmly, almost challengingly. “After the Pikar Steppe.”

  The room went very still.

  Ko’i let out a low whistle. “Oh, the gossip circles are going to feast on that.”

  Ja’a leaned closer to me, eyes wide with delight. “Wait. You knew about this?”

  I nodded once.

  “When?” she hissed.

  “Since after the Pikar,” I whispered back.

  Ja’a looked personally betrayed that I didn’t tell her.

  Vena, meanwhile, frowned in confusion. “What’s the problem?” she asked openly. “They can date if it works for them, can they not? You guys aren’t Holy, where you have to wait for marriage.”

  Calr sighed and leaned closer to her, lowering his voice. He whispered something in her ear, his explanation clearly longer than a single sentence. Judging by her expression, the nuances of the civil war from fifteen years ago were not simple to summarize.

  Vena blinked.

  Then blinked again.

  “…Oh,” she said quietly.

  Raik rubbed his face with one hand and sighed. “Everyone,” he said wearily, “this stays a secret.”

  His gaze slid pointedly toward Ja’a.

  “Especially you.”

  Ja’a straightened immediately. “Hey! I can keep a secret!”

  Katar raised an eyebrow. “You once leaked your sister’s trade routes over candied almonds.”

  “I was baiting the competition,” Ja’a protested. “And besides, this is different.”

  Raik looked unconvinced.

  Kan, for her part, remained perfectly calm, her eyes never leaving Kitchi. It didn’t seem like she cared about the political implications nearly as much as she cared about his opinion. After all, like Raik, Kitchi had also lost his father fifteen years ago.

  Kitchi leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, studying the two of them with open curiosity. “Bold,” he finally said. “Very bold.”

  Raik groaned.

  “Poor Mother was hoping you’d marry Ja’a and take over handling the duchy,” Kitchi added dryly.

  “Not a chance,” Raik and Ja’a said at the same time.

  “And that’s your duchy, not mine,” Raik added. “You’re the heir.”

  “You can have it,” Kitchi replied easily. “I’m not leaving Hano.”

  I took another sip of tea, much more carefully this time, watching the Agame brothers drift into Elemental Bloodline politics, and wondering how something as simple as who loved whom could be more dangerous than monsters, cults, or ancient magic.

  “Back to the topic,” Ko’i said, setting a thick ledger on the table and sliding it open. “These are the Soulbooks currently available for subscription.”

  He looked around the room. “Who’s going first?”

  Kitchi tilted his head toward Shingo. “Let’s start with the big fellow.”

  Shingo straightened slightly, expression unreadable.

  “In his case,” Kitchi continued, “we have two viable paths. If he were in the military, with his height and bulk, the decision would already be made for him. They’d issue Kindred-based Soulbooks, Ogre Strength, Troll Regeneration, that sort of thing.”

  Calr frowned. “That sounds good.”

  “It is,” Kitchi agreed, “in the short term. It would make him stronger than Yon almost immediately. But it would also cap his future growth. Once you lean too heavily on external Kindred reinforcement, it becomes much harder to push your natural Kindred talent further.”

  Calr glanced at Shingo, then spoke for his mute friend, I have a feeling that he has done it enough times that it has become automatic for him.

  “What’s the other option?”

  “We avoid Kindred amplification entirely,” Kitchi said, tapping the page. “Static Soulbooks. Utility spells. Things that support his role without diverting his growth. Barriers or terrain control.”

  He pointed to two entries. “Mud Ground or Static Barrier.”

  Calr hesitated. “The problem is… Shingo has hit a wall in his growth. He’s been trying to push his strength further, carrying heavier and heavier loads, but at this point, it’s becoming unmanageable. Maybe immediate strength isn’t such a bad idea.”

  Shingo nodded once in agreement.

  “What about gravity magic?” I asked.

  The room paused.

  “Heavy magic, I mean,” I clarified quickly. “He could use it both in combat and for training. Making enemies heavier. Making his training tools harder to carry. If he’s stagnating, that kind of pressure might help him break through.”

  Ko’i and Kitchi exchanged a glance.

  “That’s… clever,” Ko’i said slowly.

  “It could work,” Kitchi agreed. “The downside is mana cost. Gravity magic is expensive.”

  “His mana pool will grow as his soul grows,” I said. “That makes it a future investment. Not very useful for this month’s challenge, but valuable long-term.”

  Raik nodded. “Then we give him something practical for the missions in his remaining slot.”

  He didn’t even pause to acknowledge that meant paying for two Soulbooks instead of one.

  “Something simple then,” Kitchi said. “Low training requirement.”

  “Static Barrier,” Ko’i suggested immediately. “Ten to twenty barriers per day, depending on soul strength and kinetic affinity. Extremely useful for a frontline fighter, especially against ranged attacks.”

  “And it doesn’t require mastery,” Kitchi added. “Just intent. Think it, and it appears.”

  Shingo nodded twice, excitement apparent on the mute boy’s face.

  Ko’i smiled and made a note in the ledger.

  Decision made.

  Next was Calr.

  Kitchi studied him for a long moment before speaking. “What are you?” he asked bluntly. “You’re not Kindred. Are you some sort of Dreamer?”

  Calr hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. “Mythic,” he said. “Although, like Katar, I don’t follow any god.”

  “Hm.” Kitchi nodded once. “Then we’ll need to test your affinity. Just in case.”

  Ko’i produced a thin sheet of treated parchment and slid it across the table. “A drop of blood, please,” he instructed.

  Calr pricked his finger and let a single bead fall onto the parchment.

  The blood shimmered, then spread, reshaping itself into clean Holy script.

  Calr Heckmanan.

  A few seconds passed.

  Nothing else happened.

  Ko’i leaned closer. “No affinity. That’s rare for someone born in Hano.”

  “I also have no affinity,” Vena said. “That means he’s probably pure Mythic, like me.”

  I kept my face blank. No need to accidentally divulge the boy’s secrets.

  “That means,” Kitchi said slowly, “he has no preference, but also no restrictions.”

  He turned his attention to me. “You’ve fought beside him. What do you think?”

  I considered it carefully. “For a marksman, I’d normally recommend perception and mobility. But his perception is already unusually high. He was also proficient with the Perfect State dash ability, so something that needs great timing wouldn’t be lost on him.”

  “In his case, a Kindred enhancement wouldn’t hinder his growth, unlike Shingo,” Kitchi added. “So something with speed and mobility would be ideal.”

  We all scanned the ledger, eyes moving over the Soulbook descriptions.

  Calr’s eyes lit up. “The Kindred Soulbook Golden Hind’s Grace, and the sky-affinity Double Jump?”

  We leaned in together as Ko’i pulled the corresponding Soulbooks and read the descriptions aloud.

  Golden Hind’s Grace: Passive increases to agility, balance, and sustained movement.

  Double Jump: Creates an invisible wind platform under your feet for jumping. Lasts for five seconds. Maximum uses: twelve. The recharge rate is one every five minutes.

  Silence followed.

  “Why Double Jump when you can have flight?” Raik asked, pointing at another sky-affinity Soulbook.

  “That one is dynamic and uses mana rather than cooldown,” Calr explained. “My soul strength is too low for prolonged use.”

  We all nodded at the impeccable logic.

  Calr swallowed, then let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. “Thank you for the opportunity. I won’t waste it.”

  Ko’i wrote the selections into the ledger. “Good choices. Well thought-out, with no long-term drawbacks.”

  Katar was next.

  Kitchi barely glanced at the ledger before looking directly at him. “You still refusing to get a Soulbook?”

  “Yes,” Katar replied without hesitation. “I don’t care for borrowed strength. My swords are enough.”

  Several people sighed at once.

  Ja’a crossed her arms. “You’re as headstrong as a mule.”

  “That’s an insult to mules,” Raik chuckled.

  Katar ignored them. “I am a swordsman, not a mage or a trickster. Chances are, I will forget to use whatever power you give me in the heat of the fight.”

  Kitchi leaned back, unimpressed. “You can always train using them.”

  “I don’t have the instinct for that,” grumbled the swordsman.

  Raik rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Katar. I understand your feelings about borrowed power, but this isn’t a miracle from a fickle god. Soulbooks are reliable.”

  I glanced at Vena to see if she was offended by the comment, but she wasn’t. I guessed the Holy deliberately separated their miracles from the concept of gods for that very reason.

  Silence stretched.

  I hesitated, then spoke. “What if the Soulbooks don’t give you strength?”

  Katar finally looked at me.

  “There are books that don’t alter your fighting style,” I continued. “No power spikes or artificial techniques.”

  Ko’i flipped pages quickly, already following my train of thought.

  “Sleepless Night,” I said, pointing at an entry. “It lets you train or stand watch without needing much rest. It gives you more time without interfering with combat.”

  “And Second Wind,” Ko’i added. “You can activate it after a night-long training session and still be active for the day’s mission.”

  Katar frowned. “That still sounds like a crutch.”

  “It’s logistics,” I replied. “You don’t fight better. You train while others sleep. And during missions, it means you’re still standing when it matters.”

  Raik met his eyes. “I’m not asking you to rely on them. Just try them. You have nothing to lose.”

  Katar hesitated.

  For the first time since I’d met him, I saw uncertainty cross his face. He looked down at his callused hands.

  Finally, he exhaled. “Fine.”

  Ja’a blinked. “That was easier than expected.”

  “Don’t misunderstand,” Katar said flatly. “This is because Raik ordered me to do it.”

  Ko’i smiled faintly and marked the ledger. “Sleepless Night and Second Wind. Excellent utility Soulbooks.”

  Katar leaned back, arms crossed, expression closed once more.

  Still, I noticed something.

  For someone so stubborn, Katar was surprisingly willing to yield to Raik. There was history there. Childhood bonds, maybe debts I didn’t yet understand.

  I was pulled from my thoughts when Kitchi spoke.

  “Alice,” he said, meeting my eyes, “you’re next.”

  I stared at the ledger, once more at pages filled with possibilities: movement, survival, power, knowledge. Every Soulbook felt useful. Every one of them felt necessary.

  I wanted all of it.

  But I only had one slot left.

  How was I supposed to choose just one kind of magic?