Ren and Aisen made their way back to the Dark Elf camp, retracing the familiar path through the forest. The wind carried faint traces of smoke and iron from afar, a sign that the atmosphere in the camp was still strung tight like a bowstring.
The moment they drew near, Ren noticed something unusual. There were far more players than before.
Two days ago, he had only seen a scattering of figures. Now the numbers had doubled...perhaps even tripled. The air buzzed with chatter, bartering, and the occasional heated argument among groups gathered around the camp's edges.
He recalled what Kirito had mentioned that very morning: the two major guilds were locked in a heated rivalry over this questline. And if the rumors were true, then by tomorrow, both sides would be launching into the next quest at the same time, whether it was the sixth or the seventh chapter.
"They're still playing childish games like this even before challenging the Floor Boss?" Ren muttered inwardly, the corner of his lips tugging upward in a bitter smile.
But the longer he observed, the more uneasy he felt. Something familiar stirred, sharp as the prick of a needle against his memory.
Rivalries often began as harmless sparks, but sparks could easily grow into flames, flames strong enough to consume an entire community.
This scene… was no different from what had happened back in the Starting Town on the first floor. He remembered it all too well: he and a few others had once fanned the flames of such conflicts to tip the scales of power among guilds.
Ren froze for a beat. A thought flickered through his mind, cold as a blade pressed against his throat.
"Could it be… someone is pulling the strings behind all this?"
He gave a small shake of his head, as though brushing away the intrusive speculation.
Not everything needed to be seen through the darkest possible lens.
Perhaps what he was witnessing now was nothing more than ordinary rivalry groups striving to prove themselves against each other, driven by pride, by the need for recognition, by the desire not to be outshone.
In a world where death lurked at every corner, maybe flaunting one's strength was simply another way of clinging to the belief that one was still alive.
Ren followed in Aisen's steps, their boots echoing steadily against the dirt path leading deeper into the camp.
The tall trees whispered overhead, blending with the noise of a bustling military outpost in the midst of preparations.
As the two entered, several Dark Elf warriors on watch lifted their heads. Their eyes softened for a moment before they greeted them with faint smiles.
Ren inclined his head in return. It was a striking contrast to his first days here. Back then, suspicion had hung heavy in the air. Now, among these seasoned Dark Elf warriors, there was no probing gaze, no one reaching to strip away his weapons. The difference was… strange. But also, in its own way, comforting.
Aisen paused, his eyes sweeping across the camp before he flicked his hand in a casual signal toward Ren.
"From now until evening, you're free," he said evenly, his tone calm yet carrying a weight that left no room for negligence. "Go wherever you want, but don't let your mind wander into idleness. Keep yourself ready, because, as I've already told you… today, we have plenty to do."
His glance barely lingered, but Ren could feel the gravity behind the words.
It wasn't the severity of a commander barking orders, it was the reminder of a comrade.
Ren gave a small nod, though the lingering unease from what he had just witnessed refused to leave him.
The camp was more alive than ever: the clashing of steel, the quickened steps of warriors, the clipped and precise commands being passed from one to another.
Every person here seemed to have a role. No one idle, no one redundant. All of them radiated the same sense of preparation for something important.
Ren let his shoulders ease, inhaling deeply before letting the breath out. He reminded himself not to obsess over things beyond his control. Speculations about guilds, about unseen plots from other players… such thoughts could only pull him away from the real task at hand.
"I understand," Ren answered Aisen at last, his voice even, though inwardly he carved a quiet reminder to himself. Today would not just be another busy day, it might prove to be the turning point of the entire questline.
The noonday sun spilled across the camp, painting the war-worn tents in shades of gold. Ren walked on, letting the noise of clashing steel and the pulse of preparation wash over him, pushing away the haze of doubts from before.
He found a clean patch of ground beneath a tree by the outer fence of the camp. With a wave of his hand, he pulled up his inventory and withdrew a few slabs of rock-hard ration bread and some leftover dried meat.
The food was tough and salty, hard to swallow, yet Ren realized he had begun to develop a strange fondness for flavors.
Every dish, whether simple or elaborate, carried a uniqueness that could not be replaced.
Some meals dazzled with complexity, their layers of flavor weaving into something impossible to describe. Others were plain, even coarse, but their taste clung stubbornly to the tongue, stirring unexpected familiarity.
Unfortunately, his empty stomach gave him no chance to savor them.
Instead of pausing to linger on the flavor, he chewed quickly and swallowed, like a machine driven by nothing but the will to survive.
Ren exhaled softly, fingers tightening around the last piece of ration bread.
He promised himself that one day, when he no longer had to be weighed down by so many burdens, someday, he would sit down to a real meal. And in that moment, he would allow himself to savor every note of sweetness, salt, sourness, and spice that life had to offer.
When he finished eating, Ren brushed his hands clean and made his way toward the forge.
The rhythmic pounding of hammers filled the air, blending with the sharp ring of shattering metal and the crackle of sparks bursting from blazing coals.
The smiths here were all Dark Elves, sleeves rolled high, muscles taut, their golden eyes glinting in the thick gray smoke.
Ren handed his armor and sword to one of the smiths. "Could you help me with some maintenance?"
The blacksmith gave the blade a quick glance, noticing the chipped edge, faint rust stains, and scratches on the armor plates. He nodded without a word and pulled them onto the workbench.
Watching him, Ren couldn't help but remember the young blacksmith who had once sold him armor. But this time, that man was nowhere to be seen, as if smithing had only ever been a passing whim.
Ren's lips curved faintly, unsure whether to laugh or sigh.
His eyes wandered to the newly forged swords hanging on the nearby rack, and he swallowed hard.
For a moment, he almost wanted to ask if he could borrow...or even buy one of them. Even a second-hand blade would do. A better sword could change everything in a battle.
But harsh reality dragged him back. His fingers tightened unconsciously as he checked his coin pouch—a meager amount of Cor left.
"Forget it…" he muttered, exhaling as he leaned back, staring up at the smoke-stained ceiling of the smithy, letting his thoughts dissolve into the steady rhythm of hammer strikes on molten steel.
"Yoooo."
A familiar voice rang out behind him, cutting through his thoughts.
Ren turned his head, and sure enough, Ago was standing there. Same scruffy, unkempt look as always, messy hair, wrinkled coat that looked like it had just been flipped by the wind.
If he hadn't known her beforehand, he might have mistaken her for some peddler wandering the market, certainly not a girl.
Ren smiled faintly and gave a nod. Ago's face immediately scrunched up, her voice sharp. "What the hell are you smiling at?"
Ren folded his arms, narrowing his eyes as he replied casually, "Just realizing… there's actually someone shorter than me in this world."
Ago froze for a beat, then snorted harshly, shaking her head so that her short hair swayed in irritation. "You little brat. Who taught you to talk like that?"
Ren shrugged, his eyes calm as if none of this was worth caring about. "Well, someone's gotta keep your arrogance in check. Let's just say I'm doing a good deed."
Ago arched a brow, holding out her hand, fingers curling tightly into a fist. "You know what this is, don't you?"
Without another word, she swung a punch straight at Ren's face. But he dodged swiftly, stepping back a few paces as though avoiding an angry, scruffy little beast.
Ren chuckled lightly, then tilted his head and changed the subject. "So, what are you even doing here? Decided to wander into this floor for no reason?"
At that, Ago let out a long sigh, as if expelling all the pent-up frustration. She kicked at a pebble by her boot, muttering in a tired voice, "Don't even bring it up. Isn't it thanks to that guy Kirito?"
Ren narrowed his eyes. "Kirito?"
"Yeah." Ago's brows furrowed as she recalled the annoyance. "He's had me running all over the place these past few days, investigating some case. Morning to night, my legs are about to give out. And to top it off, he hasn't even paid me a single Cor for it."
Ren's lips curved into a dry, mocking smile. "Well, who told you to scam people before? Remember that guidebook incident? The one that was supposed to be free, but you sold it at some ridiculous price? People don't forget that kind of thing."
Ago stiffened for a moment, then shot Ren a glare. "Hey, business is about seizing opportunities. That's called survival skills, kid."
Ren crossed his arms, nodding in mock agreement, though his lips trembled with suppressed amusement. "Right, survival skills… funny how they turned into digging your own grave."
Ago bit her lip, her face flushing with anger, eyes blazing as if ready to claw at Ren's annoyingly calm expression. "You little…!"
But instead of finishing her sentence, she just huffed, pouting as she muttered under her breath, barely audible, "And to think I once thought you were a decent guy… even considerate, too…"
Ren tilted his head slightly, raising his brows as though uncertain if he'd heard her right. "What was that?"