Returning to the village came with two immediate developments. First — turns out the story I'd spun about a fledgling monster hunter settling down in Springvale got some unexpected confirmation. And second — some things about Eula finally started to make sense.
The tension between the blue-haired knight and her fellow members of the Order was real. They tried to keep things civil in public, sure, but if you paid attention, you could feel the chill in the air whenever they were around each other. And the villagers weren't much warmer toward Lady Lawrence either — judging by the sideways glances thrown her way, affection wasn't exactly in surplus.
And yet… she risked her life for them every single day.
Funny, isn't it? I'd only been living in this village for about a week, and somehow, my sympathies now lay with the woman who, not too long ago, had every reason to end me. People are the same everywhere, no matter the world. Even if this place feels like the fever dream of some overworked, sleep-deprived game devs, that part doesn't change. Kindness is quickly forgotten — or worse, treated as expected — while grudges? Oh, we carry those to the grave.
But moral debates on human nature would have to wait for a better day. Right now, a small group of volunteers and I, with what help Eula could spare, were tasked with returning the fallen to their homeland so they could be laid to rest according to local tradition.
In short: I wasn't free until nightfall. And by then, I was so drained I couldn't even bring myself to eat. All I wanted was to collapse face-first into bed and sleep like a rock for ten hours straight. Thankfully, none of the villagers got in my way — they took over the burial arrangements without a word of complaint.
The next morning brought something unexpected but very welcome. Apparently, my efforts in helping locate the missing hunters hadn't gone unnoticed. For breakfast, I was rewarded with a hot meat pie — on the house, no less — and the smell alone could've stopped a dragon in its tracks. After that hearty meal and the usual morning routine, I headed straight for the guild outpost — the one I didn't quite make it to yesterday.
There, the ever-busy appraiser, Rosmarin, gave me a polite nod before asking me to wait while she wrapped up some admin work. Thankfully, she worked fast. In under ten minutes, she was already inspecting the masks I'd brought in.
"Twenty standard ones… and one Abyss Mage," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the mask that had belonged to the spellcaster who roughed me up yesterday.
"Is something wrong?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at the sudden silence.
"Yes and no. Don't worry about it. Just... personal stuff." Rosmarin shook her head, then quickly handed over my reward. "Here." She placed a neat little pile of coins in front of me — mixed denominations, but a fair amount.
"That's for the hilichurls," she said, then pulled something else from beneath the counter — a small dagger. "And this… is from me. I ordered it from a blacksmith in Mondstadt about a week ago. My sister and I were going to give it to our brother when he got back. But…"
She trailed off, answering my unspoken question with a pained look in her eyes. Her voice almost broke, but she kept it together.
"I ca…"
"Take it," Rosmarin interrupted, her voice unexpectedly firm, cutting me off before I could finish. "Please." She locked eyes with mine, more composed now, her tone softer but still resolute.
With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly accepted her gift. On a whim, I drew the blade. At first glance, it was a well-crafted dagger — too well-crafted, actually. The engravings were far too intricate, the kind of design I'd expect from modern manufacturing, not a medieval fantasy blacksmith. Still, one look at the weapon, and the system's stats confirmed what I already suspected — it was way too valuable.
Dagger: "Northern Wind" (Geo)
Forged by: Wagner
Rarity: Rare (+)
Durability: 300/300
Damage: 75–150 (bonus damage scales with strike location and wielder's force)
Perks: High piercing damage, elemental hardening
Abilities: None
Not bad. Actually, very not bad — especially compared to my current spear, which, judging by its stats, was now thoroughly outclassed. It was a damn fine weapon, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't have taken something like this from a girl I barely knew. But something told me Rosmarin had already made up her mind. She wasn't taking it back.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "I should probably get going."
I thanked her again and slipped outside. Only once the wooden door shut behind me did my brain catch up with everything that had just happened. Honestly, the whole thing left a strange taste in my mouth. A simple "thank you" would've been more than enough, but personal baggage tends to throw logic out the window. Now, this dagger — meant for someone else — sat heavy in my pocket, an awkward reminder that even in fantasy worlds, the weight of other people's pain sticks to you whether you want it to or not.
I stared at my reflection in the blade one last time, glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and with a sigh, stored the dagger in my inventory.
Time to get some fresh air.
My legs carried me on autopilot to the quest board. Naturally, it was one of those days — nothing remotely interesting posted. Scowling, I grabbed the first flyer I could reach and headed toward the village gates.
Along the way, the locals smiled and greeted me. Some asked if I was off on another mission. A few even invited me out for drinks later. I nodded politely, but I wasn't in the mood to socialize.
"Kyuu?" came a soft chirp from my shoulder. Rimuru had been napping up there the whole time, and now he stared at me with wide, concerned eyes.
"Don't worry," I murmured, giving the little slime a pat. "It'll pass."
Lost in thought and dragging my feet, I didn't even notice where I was going until the surroundings became familiar — surprisingly so. I'd wandered into one of Mondstadt's more iconic landmarks. The story of Vanessa the Liberator, the Order's first Grand Master, was practically Springvale's national bedtime tale. After just a week in the village, I'd already heard it told a dozen different ways.
But the valley wasn't just famous for legends. At its heart stood a massive, ancient tree — absolutely colossal. I'd meant to visit it yesterday, but, well… things didn't exactly go as planned. Today, I figured I'd finally correct that mistake. Sure, I had to fight off a few overly aggressive critters on the way, but at this point, dealing with them had become routine — just another minor inconvenience in a world full of them.
I didn't reach the designated spot until well past noon — thanks in no small part to a certain overgrown weed with a serious attitude problem. The thing just wouldn't die. Without a few Pyro slimes on hand to light it up, I had to put it down the old-fashioned way — step by step, hit by hit. Luckily, my improved stats — and the painful memory of a prior run-in with one of its cousins — meant I got away with just a few bruises and a shallow scratch on my arm. Nothing my passive regeneration couldn't wipe clean within the hour.
Not a bad sign, honestly. A week in, and I was already noticeably stronger. Warmed the heart, sure — but there was no time to rest on that. Teyvat isn't exactly known for being friendly, and not all of its inhabitants are as polite as the locals. Some of them? They'd rather see humanity wiped off the map.
"No way this is an oak. That's gotta be a baobab on steroids," I muttered, staring up in awe.
The thing was massive — easily big enough to cast shade over a few hundred meters in any direction. A genuine titan of a tree.
Acting on impulse, I reached out and laid a hand on the trunk. The bark was coarse and dry beneath my fingers, unmistakably oak despite its monster size. I let myself admire it for a moment longer, then glanced around to make sure no one was watching — and started climbing.
Thanks to my boosted strength and agility, getting up there was almost too easy. Ten minutes later, I was perched on a high branch, staring down at the valley like I was standing on the roof of a ten-story building. Adrenaline rushed through me, overriding the part of my brain that normally hated heights. Thankfully, I got down before my overexcited mind had a chance to remind me why I hated them.
Once I hit the ground and brushed myself off, something caught my eye — a stone statue nestled behind the tree, hidden unless you walked the full circle around it.
Curiosity tugged at me.
It only took a few dozen steps to close the distance. Now I stood directly in front of the statue, arm half-raised, hesitating. One second. Then another. A deep breath. Eyes squeezed shut, just in case… and my fingers finally brushed the stone.
Cold.
That was it.
No mystical light, no divine vision, no magical awakening. Just a rough, icy surface under my fingertips. I lingered a little longer, waiting… but nothing happened. And yeah, I'll admit it stung a little. But asking for more would've been greedy — even by my standards.
With a faint shake of my head, I gave the Archon's face one last look. It didn't seem particularly special, just a weathered sculpture like any other. I let my hand drop.
So much for destiny.
Let the other isekai protagonists get their fancy chosen-one powers. I had a walk back ahead of me.
"Well… home?"
Rimuru looked up from his perch on my shoulder, blinked at me, and gave something that vaguely resembled a nod.
Good enough.
I turned and started heading back. Just before leaving the clearing, though, I glanced over my shoulder — something tugging at the edge of my senses. My eyes scanned the massive canopy above.
Nothing.
Just wind and branches.
"Must've been my imagination," I muttered and picked up the pace.