Chapter 59 — The Table of Revenak
The temple hall smelled of warmth and spice.
Sunlight poured through the carved skylights above, painting golden squares across the stone floor. The walls, once bare and broken, now bore faint murals—memories of Revenak's people restored with patient hands. The long table that stretched down the hall could have belonged to a royal banquet, but nothing about the gathering felt formal. It was alive. Voices mingled with the scent of roasted meat, sweet herbs, and desert fruit.
John sat near the head of the table beside Rin, who lounged in his seat like a man completely at home. His smile came easily, his presence filling the space the way the sun filled the room—warm, but commanding. Around them, the Revenakians ate with quiet discipline, their movements smooth and measured, even in celebration.
The J-Crew had been given the front seats of honor. Blake's plate was already half empty before the meal had truly begun; Tamara pretended not to notice as he reached for a second helping. Mara, Lysa, and Sera sat further down the table, cautious but curious. Ember perched on the table edge near John's plate, snatching bites of roasted Sparrowhawk when he thought no one was watching.
The meat was tender, smoked over aromatic wood, and glazed with a glaze that shimmered faintly blue—an old Revenak trick to preserve monster flesh. The air was thick with life.
"You've been busy," Rin said finally, breaking into John's thoughts. "The Sparrowhawks made for fine eating. You even gutted them clean. Very considerate of you."
John smirked. "I thought you could use the food more than I could."
"You've always been the practical one," Rin said, sipping from a cup of dark wine. "And reckless. Still getting yourself cut to pieces."
"Sometimes that's the job," John said. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
"Barely," Tamara muttered from beside him.
Rin laughed, the sound rolling through the hall like thunder in the distance.
When the laughter faded, Rin leaned his elbow on the armrest and gave John a long, measuring look. "So tell me, how far have you gotten? Last time we spoke, you could barely hold your Light steady."
John met his gaze evenly. "Step Three."
Rin whistled softly. "Not bad. Not fast enough, but not bad." His grin sharpened. "I've had better luck. Recovered everything I lost after Revenak fell."
"Everything?" John asked.
Rin nodded, his tone casual—too casual. "I'm back to E-Rank Step Nine."
The room went quiet.
Even the low hum of conversation at the far end of the table stopped. Mara froze mid-bite; her spoon clinked against her bowl. Lysa's eyes flicked up, sharp as ever. Sera's mouth fell open just enough for her to whisper, "Step Nine?"
Rin chuckled, waving off the sudden tension. "Don't look at me like I'm a god. I just had time—and a temple worth of resources."
Mara couldn't help herself. "A Step Nine shouldn't be hidden in the desert. What are you even doing out here? Who are you people?"
John glanced her way, his expression unreadable. "That's not important."
Rin smiled, faintly amused.
He raised his cup toward Blake and Tamara. "There aren't many souls left in this world I'd trust to guard my back. These three?" His grin widened. "These three are the reason Revenak has any survivors."
The Revenakians around the room let out a collective cheer—hands clapping, voices echoing against the stone. The children peered through the archways, their faces alight with excitement though they barely understood why. Tamara smiled faintly, eyes softening. Blake lifted his glass in salute, a proud smirk spreading across his face.
John only sighed and shook his head. "You don't change do you?."
Rin leaned back. "And you still don't know how to take a compliment."
Laughter returned to the hall, the kind that rolled like a tide and eased whatever distance had existed between the old and the new. The smell of roasting Sparrowhawk grew stronger as attendants brought in more trays—fresh bread, steaming vegetables, and pitchers of herbal drink that shimmered faintly under the light.
John waited until the noise settled, then gestured toward a stack of crates near the table. The Revenakians quieted again, their curiosity sharp.
"I brought something for you," John said.
John waved a hand with his storage ring then a assortment of items appeared on the floor. The faint metallic scent of alchemy rolled out, clean and sharp. Inside were neatly packed vials—rows and rows of them, each sealed with labels.
"Two hundred meditation draughts," John said, his voice carrying over the table. "Two hundred healing potions. Armor. Weapons. Everything the temple might need."
A murmur spread through the Revenakians. They weren't easily moved, but even they knew the worth of such a gift. Some lowered their heads in gratitude; others simply looked at John in quiet awe.
Rin stared for a moment before laughing softly. "Looks like you got better with your alchemy."
Rin rested his forearms on the table, studying John again. "So," he said, "this crew of yours—what's the story?"
John glanced down the table. Every eye turned toward him—the old Revenakians, his crew, even Tamara, who already knew the answer but waited anyway. He cleared his throat.
"We're called J-Crew," he said.
Rin blinked. Then, deadpan: "J-Crew?"
Blake coughed into his drink to hide a laugh. Tamara's lips twitched. Mara muttered, "It's…creative."
"Don't start," John warned. "I wasn't the one who named it."
"Yes, you were," Blake said.
"Exactly," Tamara added, smiling now.
Rin chuckled, shaking his head. "A terrible name for a fine idea. Go on."
John exhaled slowly. "We're E-Rank mercenaries now. Step Twos and Threes.
I figured it was time to build towards the future. I'm stuck in the city of sands anyways.
Some things happened and I got Contracted under the Merchant Association for a year."
Rin's brows lifted slightly. "Working with the Merchants could work out well."
"Exactly," John said. "We're building something sustainable. A crew that can stand on its own."
"Good." Rin's tone softened. "That's what you've always been best at—turning survival into structure."
He leaned back again, eyes bright with pride. "Rest here as long as you need. We've got empty chambers and sparring grounds that could use some life again. The temple is open to you, John—to all of you."
The words hung in the air like a blessing.
Tamara bowed her head slightly. "We're grateful."
Blake raised his cup again. "To the Revenakians—for not letting us starve."
"To the Revenakians," the crew echoed.
Rin poured himself another measure of wine and lifted it high. "To family," he said. "Old and new. To fire that doesn't go out."
The toast rippled through the hall, repeated by a dozen voices, then a dozen more. Glasses clinked. Children laughed. The faint echo of song began somewhere near the back, a melody the Revenakians used to sing when the world still felt young.
John sat still for a moment, letting the noise wash over him. Tamara's laughter mingled with the others; Blake was already halfway through a new story about the Sparrowhawk fight. Ember gnawed on a roasted bone near his boots, tail flicking happily.
For the first time in months, John let himself breathe.
The walls that once held silence now carried the rhythm of voices. The people who'd been half ghosts the last time he saw them were whole again. Stronger. Brighter. The temple itself seemed to hum with quiet life—stone that remembered, light that forgave.
Rin glanced at him, wine glass in hand. "You look at peace," he said.
John smiled faintly. "For now."
Rin's grin faded into something gentler. "Enjoy it while you can. Peace doesn't last long for people like us."
"I know," John said, his voice low but steady. "That's why I'm going to make it last."
Rin studied him for a long time, then nodded once, slow and certain. "Then you've finally learned."
Outside the open archway, the desert wind carried the smell of sun-baked stone and far-off storms. Inside, the temple of Revenak glowed with warmth and life. For a rare moment, there was no war, no blood, no darkness pressing close—only the sound of laughter echoing through the halls of the once-fallen temple.
And for that moment, it was enough.