Fifth Day in Aerium, Morning - Flamerose Inn

  The Inn's Common Hall was already bustling when I came down for breakfast. Civilians and adventurers sharing space and words. The smell of fresh bread and grilled meat filling the air. Mrs. Rinne was juggling three orders at once, moving between kitchen and tables with practiced efficiency. When she caught sight of me, she gestured toward the counter with her head.

  "Breakfast's ready, boy. Eat before getting cold."

  I was glad that Madam Rinne spare me some. The food was good—unbelievably good for underdeveloped civilization of this world.

  Whatever Manna had made under Mrs. Rinne's instruction showed promise.

  "Ma'am, before I leave for the guild, I need to ask something."

  "Hmm? What is it?"

  "I need to buy weapon and armor, maybe some customization. Madam Rinne recommended a smithing store yesterday?"

  She paused mid-wipe of a glass, thinking. "Ah, you mean about the quality smith. Right, there's three in this city. If you want reliable and sturdy equipment without fancy decoration, old man Druffen's workshop is your best bet. It's called DaDa's Happy Store—stupid name, I know, but the quality is genuine."

  "Where is it located?"

  "South district, near the outer wall. You can't miss it. The sign's bright colored in addition of the name being dumb." She set down the glass. "But listen, boy—Druffen is great at his field, but he's... well, he's dealing with something heavy. Don't take it personal if he's short with you."

  I nodded, keeping it in mind. "Thank you, ma'am."

  "Don't mention it. Now get going before the guild gets too crowded."

  -------------------

  Western district - The Brandish blade guild

  The guild's first floor was already crowded and alive with activity. Veterans checking schedules, beginners asking endless questions, staff processing paperwork. Seeing that, I was curious myself about the quests in the first floor. What's the minimum quest posted for the beginners like me? And what's quest most people took?

  Unfortunately, while I was satisfying my curiosity for the first time since I arrived in this world, Miss Emily found me almost immediately.

  "Mr. Yuki! Perfect timing. The Guild Master asked me to guide you personally today."

  Once she said that, I felt immediately killing gazes from the surrounding. This was gonna be troublesome.

  "Is that necessary?"

  "Oh, don't worry about it. It's the decision of Guild master himself, and my job is just to help you understand the quest system better." She smiled, but there was something calculated in it. "Shall we?"

  Meanwhile she led me to the receptionist desk, she asked unexpected questions. "By the way Mister Yuki, previously what are you searching for in that beginner-rank quests board? You know right, with your current rank, that's not even served as warmup. Furthermore you just waste your precious time in those beginner quests. You should choose quests with more appropriate reward and urgency."

  At Emily's approach, the staff member went noticeably rigid.

  "Madam, good morning. How may I assist?"

  "Miss Vena, our new friend here is looking for quests. Specifically, the ones that haven't been taken yet."

  Vena's eyes widened slightly. "The... untaken quests, madam?"

  "That's what he asked for."

  "A-at once, madam! Please wait a moment!" As Vena hurried away, I caught Miss Emily watching me with mild amusement.

  "You're an interesting one, Mr. Yuki. Most beginners want the easy, high-reward quests."

  "Most beginners want to advance quickly. The untaken quests exist for a reason—they're inefficient by normal standards, but the point-per-quest is fixed regardless of reward."

  "Oh my, you've already calculated it." She leaned against the counter. "And the reputation gain from clearing multiple quests, interactions with people, material gathering... very comprehensive thinking."

  "It's basic resource optimization."

  She smiled. It wasn't entirely warm. "You're really not like the others."

  Miss Vena returned with a stack of papers so large she needed both hands. I quickly assessed the visible quests.

  "There are 12 D-rank untaken quests and 9 C-rank untaken quests. Total 21."

  "Correct," Vena confirmed, looking slightly overwhelmed. "Three S—D-rank sweeping quests, three H—D-rank harvesting quests, six C—D-rank cooperating quests, seven H—C-rank harvesting quests, one C—C-rank cooperating quest, and one R—C-rank repelling quest."

  I examined them carefully. The locations formed a pattern. "I think i can clear these in one day if I start immediately."

  "That's... ambitious," Vena said carefully. "Even experienced C-rankers would struggle with that volume."

  "Then I should start."

  Miss Emily tilted her head slightly. "Before you do—your rank will reflect these completions. The Guild Master wanted me to ensure you understand: B-rank comes with certain expectations. Guild staff will watch you more carefully. Other adventurers may become... territorial."

  "I understand."

  "Do you?" She straightened. "All right then. I'll process these for you. Just remember—safety first, advancement second."

  But her eyes said something different.

  ---

  ## First Smithing Visit - DaDa's Happy Store

  The workshop was exactly where Mrs. Rinne said it would be. The sign was obnoxiously bright—yellows and oranges that practically screamed "happy" despite the faded paint. Inside, the rhythm of hammer on metal filled the air. An old man stood at the forge. Bear-tribe beastman, based on his physiology. Grizzled, scarred hands, eyes that had spent forty years reading metal and fire.

  He didn't look up. "Just a moment."

  I waited, using the time to examine the displayed weapons. The craftsmanship was immediately evident—not flashy, but precise. Every piece balanced. Every edge true.

  The old man finally set his work aside and turned. His eyes were hollow. The kind of hollow that came from recent, serious loss.

  "What can I do for you?"

  "Madam Rinne recommended your workshop. I need equipment—armor, weapons, repairs, possibly customization. I'm registered as B-rank."

  He studied me for a moment. "Budget?"

  "Adequate for quality work."

  "Browse. Let me know what catches your interest, and we'll discuss specifications and timeline."

  I did. The selection was smaller than a major city's would be, but the quality was consistent. I selected a reinforced set of bracers, a short sword of excellent balance, and throwing knives with proper weight distribution.

  Then I gathered my materials. I'd brought them specifically for this—the Lizardmen skin was pristine, the Fury devil furs were undamaged, and the Bladegator scale still held its luster.

  "I also need custom equipment made from these materials," I said, laying them on the counter. "Full set—armor, weapons, everything I'll need for extended wilderness operations."

  The old man examined each material carefully. His hands moved with authority, turning pieces to catch the light, assessing density and integrity.

  "Quality materials," he said finally. "But they're insufficient for a full set. You'd need to bring more—maybe another round of materials equivalent to what you've got here."

  "How long would the full set take if I bring additional materials?"

  "Three days minimum. Maybe four, depending on complexity."

  "I'll return with more materials."

  He nodded, already mentally cataloging the pieces. "What's your name?"

  "Yuki."

  "Druffen." He extended a scarred hand. I shook it. His grip was firm, but there was no aggression in it. Just the grip of a man used to hard work. "I'll hold these materials. Bring the rest when you have them."

  As he turned to put my materials in storage, my eyes caught on the back wall.

  A practice sword hung there. The craftsmanship was extraordinary—not decorative, but refined in a way that spoke of genuine skill. The hilt was brilliant gold. The crossguard had delicate detailing. And the gem set into the pommel was a perfect yellow, bright enough to catch light from across the room.

  I moved closer, examining it. The balance was visible just from the proportions. The blade had been worked with precision that suggested—

  "That one's not for sale," Druffen said sharply.

  I turned. His entire posture had changed. Rigid. Defensive.

  "I wasn't asking to purchase it," I said carefully. "The craftsmanship is exceptional. I've never seen a practice blade with that level of detail."

  He was quiet for a moment. Then he seemed to deflate slightly.

  "My daughter made it." His voice was flat. "First solo project. She was fifteen."

  I waited. Sometimes people needed silence to continue.

  "She wanted to be an adventurer," he went on, staring at the sword. "Said she'd advertise my work while she explored. Made the hilt bright yellow so I could find her in crowds. In emergencies." A pause. "Said yellow was happy."

  "She sounds skilled."

  "Was." The word came out like a stone dropped into still water. "She was skilled."

  I said nothing. There was nothing appropriate to say.

  "She died three months ago." His voice had become mechanical, as if he was reciting facts rather than speaking from feeling. "Went on a C-rank escort quest. Official report says training accident. Unofficially, three men dragged her into an alley. Tortured her. Raped her. Left her body where it would be found."

  My appraisal ability triggered without conscious thought:

  *Three men. Premeditated violence. Connected to authorities. Protected.*

  "The guild investigated?" I asked.

  "Witnesses recanted. Insufficient evidence. Case closed." He finally looked at me. "You probably already know how that story ends."

  "The men were protected. High-ranking enough that the investigation couldn't proceed."

  "You're perceptive." He turned back to the sword. "She held onto it, you know. When they found her—they had to break her fingers to take the sword from her corpse. She fought them. Refused to let go. Even at the end."

  His hand moved toward the sword but stopped inches short.

  "She made it bright so I could find her. And I did. Just too late to do anything but identify the body."

  I understood then. The sword wasn't a memorial he'd chosen to display. It was evidence. A reminder. A failure.

  "If you could identify the men," I said, "and if you had proof of their crimes, would justice be possible?"

  He looked at me sharply. "What are you asking?"

  "Would you want them held accountable?"

  "Of course. But wanting doesn't change the system. The guild won't move without witnesses willing to testify, and everyone's too afraid."

  I nodded slowly. "I understand."

  "Do you?" There was something almost bitter in his laugh. "You're young. You still think justice is possible."

  I didn't respond. Thinking justice was possible wasn't the issue. The issue was whether I was willing to be the one to deliver it.

  Yes, I decided. I was.

  "I'll bring the additional materials within two days," I said. "And Druffen—your daughter's work is impressive. The sword shows genuine skill."

  He didn't respond. I left him standing there, staring at the yellow gem that would never guide her home.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  ---

  ## Street Sighting - First Encounter with Terror Arms

  The city streets were crowded as I made my way back toward the guild's district. I'd decided to take a route through the merchant quarter—it would help me understand the city's layout for later work.

  It was there I saw them.

  Three men, moving through a small market square with the confidence of predators. The tallest one—dark-haired, lion tattoo visible on his shoulder—was speaking to a merchant who'd visibly shrunk back.

  "Protection fee's due, old man," the tall one said. "Business has been good, yeah? You can afford it."

  "I... I don't have much this week, sir. Inventory hasn't sold—"

  "Not my problem." The man grabbed a bolt of cloth from the merchant's display. "This'll do as partial payment."

  The merchant didn't protest. Didn't move. Just watched as the man tucked the cloth under his arm and moved to the next stall.

  The second man—broader, with what looked like a gladiator's bearing—was physically intimidating without doing anything. His mere presence was enough to keep merchants compliant.

  The third man was thinner, carrying what looked like hunting equipment. He watched the crowds with predatory focus.

  I committed their faces to memory. The tall one's arrogant expression. The broad one's casual cruelty. The thin one's cold assessment of each person he looked at.

  These were the kind of men who'd drag a girl into an alley.

  These were the men who'd killed Druffen's daughter.

  I watched until they left the market square, then continued toward the guild.

  ---

  ## Return to Inn - Rinne's Information

  Mrs. Rinne was in the kitchen when I came back to the inn. I found her between lunch and dinner service, a rare moment of relative quiet.

  "Ma'am, I have a question. There's a group of thugs that operate in this city. C-rank adventurers, but with protection from higher-ranking people. They exploit merchants, extort money, and deal in... other crimes."

  Her hands went very still.

  "What makes you ask?"

  "I saw them in the market earlier. I want to know what you know about them."

  She set down the knife she'd been holding. "Come to my private room, boy. This isn't kitchen conversation."

  We moved to her back quarters. She closed the door and sat heavily.

  "You're asking about Terror Arms, aren't you?"

  "Is that their name?"

  "It's what the guild calls them. Officially." She rubbed her face. "Unofficially, they're a problem nobody can solve."

  "Why?"

  "Because they have protection. The mayor has his fingers in their operation. The Baron of Civice funds them. Some high-ranking adventurers work with them on the side." She looked at me directly. "And before you ask—yes, people have tried to stop them. All of them ended badly."

  "What kind of crimes?"

  "Everything. Robbery, assault, extortion, rape, murder. They prey on new adventurers, promising support and then breaking them. Or they prey on merchants. Or anyone they think won't fight back effectively." Her voice was cold. "The girl at the smithing workshop—Druffen's daughter—she was one of their victims."

  So Druffen had been right. His daughter's killers were still walking free.

  "How certain is that identification?"

  "Certain enough. Witnesses saw them drag her into the alley. But when the guild tried to prosecute, witnesses recanted." She leaned back. "The system failed her. It fails a lot of people."

  "And nothing has been done since?"

  "Nothing that the guild can do officially. Unofficially..." She studied me carefully. "There have been adventurers willing to take matters into their own hands. None of them came out well. The three of them are too entrenched, and their backers are too powerful."

  I nodded, processing. The information matched what I'd observed—the thin one's cold appraisal, the tall one's casual dominance, the broad one's physical confidence. They moved like men who'd never faced real consequences.

  That could change.

  "Thank you for the information," I said.

  "Don't thank me yet." She grabbed my arm before I could stand. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking—don't. At least not alone. You're skilled, but you're also new. This city has weight to it. Political weight."

  "I understand."

  "Do you?" Her grip tightened. "Because I've seen promising young people make brave decisions and end up dead or imprisoned. And I don't want to see that happen to you."

  I met her eyes. "I'm not asking for permission."

  She held my gaze for a long moment, then released me. "No. You're not the type to ask. That's what worries me."

  ---

  ## City Quests - Western District

  The cooperating quests were straightforward. Cleaning shops accumulated with hundred-year-old dust. Delivering orders to various locations. Helping with laundry, construction, sorting. All work that required muscle and time, but no real strategy.

  I completed them in three hours using a combination of speed enhancement and precision. The clients were surprised by both the speed and the quality of work—I didn't just clean the shop, I cleaned it properly, reaching places normal people wouldn't bother with.

  The last client actually thanked me multiple times.

  By early afternoon, I had six quests marked complete and a reputation beginning to form: the new B-ranker who actually finished work, and finished it well.

  ---

  ## Guard Post - Dimoole Quest

  The Western Guard's Post was exactly where the quest indicated. I found the captain—a middle-aged man named Dalley—and a senior guard named Hayman.

  "You're here about the Dimoole infestation?" Dalley asked.

  "Yes, sir. I took the C-rank Cooperating quest."

  Dalley and Hayman exchanged a look. "You know this one's been cycling through helpers for five months, right? No one's managed a permanent solution."

  "I understood it's a herd problem with limited funding."

  "Smart kid." Hayman nodded approvingly. "Yeah, the guild rates them as D-rank individually, but a herd of 20-30 is different math entirely. And the fund won't let us hire anyone above B-rank for a D-rank threat."

  "When do they attack?"

  "Pattern's held for five months—always the same day, same time. Tonight." Dalley checked the sun's position. "You have maybe four hours before they come."

  I considered the timeline. The Dimoole were underground-dwelling crop-suckers with a fatal weakness: expose them, and they died quickly. A herd required area-effect magic to be efficient.

  "I'll need the farm cleared of people. A perimeter at least one kilometer out."

  Hayman's eyes widened. "That's—"

  "One kilometer," I repeated. "If anyone's inside that range when I start the operation, they could get hurt."

  "You're planning something big," Dalley said. It wasn't a question.

  "Yes, sir."

  "All right. We'll clear it." He turned to Hayman. "Code red. Get everyone moved back."

  I spent the next two hours preparing. Wind magic—spike formation. Earth magic—blast effect. Timing synchronization. When the ground began to shake, I was ready.

  The Dimoole surged up like a tidal wave of dirt and flesh. Fifty of them, maybe more. The largest was a boss-level creature, significantly larger than the rest.

  I released my magic.

  The earth blasts threw them from their burrows. The wind spikes descended, precisely coordinated. Neither magic wasted energy—each spike found target, each blast served purpose.

  Seven minutes. Fifty-one Dimoole dead. One boss creature remaining.

  It rose from the ground with a bellow that shook the farm. Crystal-like hide on the upper body, pure fat on the lower. Fifteen meters long, moving with dangerous speed despite its size.

  I cast two creation magics simultaneously: a wind lance and an earth trident, both massive.

  The lance went through its mouth. The trident went through its abdomen.

  It died screaming.

  When the dust settled, Mr. Herban came forward—shaky, grateful, overwhelmed. He thanked me, offered money, offered supplies.

  I asked about harvesting materials instead, and he pointed me toward the locations. Efficient resource use.

  Then I left before the gratitude could continue.

  ---

  ## Forest Quests - Willow's Creep

  The forest was exactly as I remembered it. Beautiful. Alive. Dangerous in the way natural places were.

  I activated my combination skill—the one I'd developed by merging presence detection, magic detection, and appraisal ability. It created something new: radar. A constant stream of information about every living thing around me.

  The C-rank harvesting quests were simple. Locate the specific plants, avoid unnecessary combat, harvest only the required amounts. Ten minutes for four quests.

  The D-rank sweeping quests required fighting monsters. I did that efficiently—identified the target species, eliminated them with minimal wasted energy.

  But then, moving deeper into the inner forest area, my radar picked up something else.

  A pack of Wolfiend. C-rank repelling target.

  And the pack leader was moving directly toward me at high speed.

  The creature was large—80 kilometers per hour, teeth capable of breaking steel, predatory focus. It jumped, aiming for my head.

  I sidestepped with a single step, let it pass, and struck it once in the skull as it landed.

  The creature went unconscious immediately.

  The rest of the pack froze. Stared at their downed leader. Then fled, tails between their legs, vanishing into the forest before I could even process that they'd moved.

  I watched them go, then checked the time.

  I had enough daylight to continue hunting.

  ---

  ## Forest Hunt - Terror Arms Execution

  The location where the Terror Arms group was hunting came from Myrian's information—passed to me through Mrs. Rinne, who'd gathered it from her contacts in the adventurer community.

  They were clearing Lizardmen quests in the southern area of the forest. A profitable hunt, reasonably dangerous, the kind of work that would bring them in the afternoon.

  I arrived early and set up.

  I was three hundred meters out when they arrived. My detection picked up all three of them immediately—the tall one with the lion tattoo (Noir, according to Myrian), the broad one (Dage, a gladiator), and the thin one (Ruan, a hunter).

  They moved like thugs, not like skilled adventurers. Confident without reason. Loud without purpose. The Lizardmen scattered at their approach.

  I waited until they were engaged in combat, focused on survival.

  Then I began.

  Wind creation magic: Lance form. Seven of them, invisible in the afternoon light until they struck.

  The first lance caught Ruan in the back while he was laughing at something Noir had said. The hunter didn't even have time to recognize the threat before the wind lance punched through his chest and pinned him to a tree behind him.

  *"What the—"* Noir's head turned.

  *"Damn, they're everywhere!"* Dage was shouting. *"How the hell did they surround us?"*

  *"I got nothing on my detection!"* Noir was backing away, eyes wild. *"Ruan, where the hell are you covering from?!"*

  That's when they saw Ruan, pinned and dead.

  The silence lasted exactly one second.

  Then I stepped out of the tree line.

  "Well, well," Noir said, his shock replaced by something uglier. "A newbie. How fucking lucky for us."

  "You're Terror Arms," I said flatly. "You extort merchants. You've killed at least one person in this city. You have protection from corrupt officials."

  "And you're about to learn what that protection means, kid." Noir drew his blade—a standard fighter's weapon, nothing special. "Dage, kill him."

  The gladiator was already moving. Swift swing—fast, but not fast enough. His blade would have connected if I'd stood still.

  I didn't stand still.

  I pivoted, grabbed his wrist, and threw him hard enough that the impact knocked the air from his lungs. He hit the ground fifteen meters away, gasping for breath.

  "What the—" Noir's confidence flickered. Just for a moment. "What the hell are you?"

  "Someone who doesn't appreciate exploitation."

  I moved forward.

  Noir attacked—wild strikes, aggressive but imprecise. He was trained, but not well. His footwork was sloppy. His distance management was amateur.

  I broke his arm with a counter-strike.

  He screamed.

  Dage was recovering, trying to stand. I kicked him back down, heard ribs break.

  Noir was backing away now, blood dripping from his shattered arm. "Y-you can't—don't you understand? I have backing! The mayor himself—"

  "The mayor's corruption doesn't matter to me."

  "You'll be hunted! Executed! You can't kill a guild adventurer and just walk away!"

  I showed him my stats. Let him see exactly what he was facing.

  The color drained from his face.

  "Wh-what are you?"

  "Justice."

  Then I began.

  Not with intention to kill quickly. With intention to teach a lesson that would echo through every thug and exploiter in this city.

  Every time he thought he might escape, I cut him off. Every time he tried to bargain, I broke something else. Every time he begged for mercy, I reminded him that Druffen's daughter hadn't received any.

  The forest absorbed his screams.

  Eventually, he stopped screaming. Stopped begging. Started just crying, repeating the same broken sentence over and over: *"Forgive me... I made mistakes... forgive me..."*

  I left him there, broken beyond what simple healing could fix, surrounded by the corpses of his allies.

  The monsters would finish what I'd started.

  ---

  ## Second Smithing Visit - Materials and News

  I arrived at DaDa's Happy Store as the sun was setting.

  Druffen was still working, hammer in hand, focused on the commissioned blade. He looked up when the bell chimed.

  His expression didn't change when he saw me.

  I set the materials on the counter—more Lizardmen skin, additional Fury devil furs, another pristine Bladegator scale. Everything he'd said was insufficient before.

  "These should complete your requirements," I said.

  He examined them in silence. Then looked at me directly.

  "You did something."

  Not a question.

  "Yes."

  "To them."

  "Yes."

  He set down his hammer. Walked to the practice sword on the wall. Reached up and took it down for the first time since the guild had returned it to him.

  "The three men," he said quietly. "They're dead."

  "Yes."

  "How certain are you?"

  "Completely."

  He turned the sword over in his hands. The yellow gem caught the light, bright and happy, just like it had been made to be.

  "You didn't have to do this."

  "No. But I did."

  He looked at the sword for a long moment. Then held it out to me.

  "I want you to have this."

  I took it carefully. The balance was perfect. The craftsmanship spoke of genuine skill—a girl who'd loved her art and practiced until she got it right.

  "I'll honor her work," I said.

  "I know you will."

  He turned back to his forge, picked up his hammer, and began to work.

  But it was different now. His strikes had purpose. His movements had focus. As I left, I heard the rhythm of his hammer—strong, steady, alive.

  For the first time in three months, he was working to build something.

  Not to forget. But to remember.

  ---

  ## Inn - The Welcome Party

  I arrived back at Flamerose Inn as the evening crowd was settling in.

  Mrs. Rinne found me before I could make it to my room. She pulled me aside with a knowing look.

  "Heard some news from the guards. Three bodies in the warehouse district. C-rank adventurers, from what they said."

  "I see."

  "Do you?" She studied me carefully. "Because those three were connected to the mayor, the Baron, at least two high-rank adventurers, and probably a noble house or two I haven't heard about."

  "They won't come after me."

  "How can you be so certain?"

  "Because calculating the cost-benefit analysis of pursuing me versus accepting the loss will favor acceptance. I'm not going to be an easy target, and I'm not going to be intimidated by their political connections."

  She was quiet for a long moment. Then nodded slowly.

  "You really are something else, aren't you?"

  "I prefer to think of myself as practical."

  "That's one word for it." She gestured toward the main room. "By the way, we're having a celebration tonight. Manna insisted. You going to stay, right?"

  "Is it necessary?"

  "No. But it would mean something to her if you did."

  I considered this. Unnecessary social obligations usually weren't worth my time. But the girl had been kind, and Mrs. Rinne had provided valuable assistance.

  "I'll stay."

  ---

  ## The Celebration

  The common room had been transformed. Decorated with simple but cheerful decorations. Food laid out. The Dawgian party was there—Seilyn, Ranngarf, and Myrian, along with various other adventurers and merchants who frequented the inn.

  Manna stood at the front, nervous but determined.

  "Thank you all for coming tonight," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "I wanted to celebrate... well, I wanted to celebrate my new family."

  The room went quiet.

  "These past few days, I've been able to go outside without being scared. I've been able to walk around the city because my brother is here. And... and I'm grateful."

  She looked directly at me.

  "Congratulations on becoming B-rank, brother. And welcome home."

  The room erupted. Adventurers laughing, offering congratulations, making jokes about how a newbie had already advanced so far. Some trying to introduce themselves. Others simply celebrating the excuse for a good evening.

  Manna smiled—genuinely happy, genuinely safe.

  Mrs. Rinne caught my eye from across the room and nodded.

  For the first time since arriving in Aerium, I understood why people bothered with these kinds of gatherings.

  It wasn't about the celebration itself.

  It was about recognizing that someone mattered. That their presence changed things.

  I'd changed Druffen's world by eliminating the men who'd destroyed it.

  I'd changed Manna's world by simply being here.

  I'd changed the city by removing predators from its streets.

  Simple cause and effect.

  Simple, but perhaps not meaningless after all.

  ---

  ## Later That Night

  As the celebration wound down and the inn grew quiet, I sat alone in my room with Druffen's sword.

  The yellow gem caught the lamplight—bright, happy, exactly as his daughter had intended.

  She'd wanted to advertise her father's work.

  Now I would do that for her.

  Every person I met wearing equipment I carried forward, every mark I made in this world—they would all trace back to Druffen's workshop. To his daughter's skill.

  To her refusal to surrender, even at the end.

  I tested the sword's balance one more time.

  Perfect.

  Tomorrow, I would visit the guild to confirm my rank advancement. Tomorrow, I would begin the next phase of work. Tomorrow, everything would continue.

  But tonight, I simply sat with the yellow gem's light and thought about what it meant to leave your mark on the world.

  What it meant to matter.

  ---

  **[End of Chapter]**