----Page 5----
"Chug, chug, chug…!"
Libert tilted his mug back, draining the last drop of ale like it was a life-or-death battle.
"Aaahhh!" He slammed the mug onto the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Now that hit the spot!"
The tavern smelled of roasted meat, spilled ale, and wood polished smooth by years of weary travelers resting their elbows on it.
Lanterns swayed lazily from the ceiling beams, their flames flickering gold across mugs and faces.
The hum of laughter, chatter, and the occasional crash of a mug filled the air a kind of warmth that came only after surviving something terrifying.
Libert slammed down his mug of ale with a satisfied sigh.
"Ahh… that was insane!" he barked out, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.
"I thought I was a goner back there!"
Arin snorted, sipping his juice.
"You barely did anything, old man."
"Hey! Don't call me old man I'm only twenty-eight!"
Libert shot back, puffing up his chest like he was defending his honor.
Lysera tilted her head from beside me.
"For a human, that's considered old, isn't it?"
"Wh-what did you just say, shiny hair!?"
Libert stammered, his cheeks already turning red.
I sighed and took a sip from my mug.
"Calm down, Lysera. He's already drunk."
"Am not!" Libert hiccuped, then pointed his mug dramatically at the ceiling.
"I'm just celebrating survival! You kids don't know what a good drink does for the soul!"
From behind the counter, a stout woman with a kind smile chuckled. Her silver hair was tied back with a faded ribbon, and her apron bore the scars of a lifetime spent near fire and spilled stew.
"Easy there, Libert," she said, wiping her hands on a cloth.
"I'd rather you not collapse on my clean floors again."
"Ah, come on, Maleen," Libert said with a grin.
"You still remember that?"
"I remember everything that costs me extra scrubbing," she replied.
Then she turned her gaze to us.
"I'm Maleen, by the way. Don't worry about the drinks and rooms it's on the house. Consider it thanks for saving the village back there."
Her voice carried a warmth that contrasted the rough laughter of the tavern.
Arin's eyes brightened. "Free rooms? You're a saint, ma'am."
Maleen chuckled. "Saint? Please. Just an old woman trying to keep her tavern standing."
She poured us another round ale for Libert and Lysera, juice for Arin and me.
Arin frowned. "Hey, why can't I have ale too?"
Maleen's smile turned sharp.
"Because you still look like you should be drinking milk, that's why."
Libert burst out laughing, slapping the table.
"She got you there!"
Lysera, meanwhile, took a slow sip from her mug, her expression unreadable.
"This beverage is… unpleasantly bitter," she murmured.
"That's alcohol for you," I said.
She tilted her head.
"Strange that humans willingly drink poison for pleasure."
Libert leaned over, wagging a finger at her.
"Ah, that's where you're wrong, silver girl. This is courage in liquid form."
Lysera blinked slowly. "It appears to have made you more foolish."
"Touché," Arin said, grinning.
I couldn't help but smile. For the first time since the battle, the tension that had clung to us seemed to ease. The laughter, the clinking of mugs, the scent of stew it almost felt like peace.
Then Libert suddenly grew quiet, slumping over the table with a groan.
"If only those Tyrant Hands didn't exist," he muttered.
"Life wouldn't be so damn hard around here…"
"The Tyrant's Hand?" I asked.
Maleen froze mid-step. "Oh? Guess you're not from around here, then."
Her tone had shifted lower, cautious. The surrounding tables seemed to hush just a little.
Libert sighed, rubbing his face.
"They're a nasty lot, Master Kinon. Mercenaries, slavers, assassins they've got their claws in everything from trade to the guard." He took another swig, then added bitterly,
"Even the nobles are either paying them off or pretending they don't exist."
I felt my stomach tighten. So that's the shadow that controls this land.
"They sound powerful," Lysera said quietly.
"They are," Maleen said.
"Powerful enough that most folks don't even say their name above a whisper."
She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping lower.
"If you plan to stay in Thalorein for a while, be careful who you cross."
I nodded slowly. "I understand."
Libert gave a hollow chuckle.
"Understanding's one thing. Surviving them's another."
The laughter that followed was thinner this time, a little forced. The warmth of the tavern dimmed just slightly, as if the shadows near the corners grew longer.
Then, just as I opened my mouth to speak, the air around us shifted softly, faintly.
A low hum resonated through the tavern. Light rippled faintly from my chest the Codex responding to something.
"Ah…?" Libert blinked as a faint glyph of golden light flickered above his right hand. The tavern gasped people turned from their tables, murmuring.
"What in the?...."
The Codex's sigils pulsed once, bright as sunlight, before fading into a gentle glow.
[ Codex Entry Registered: Libert Ardens]
[ Skill Manifested: Valor Spark (Minor). ]
Libert stared at his hand in awe.
"What… what just happened?"
Even Maleen, halfway through pouring ale, stepped back as a smaller glyph shimmered faintly around her wrist.
[ Codex Entry Registered: Maleen Tarth] [Human (Non-Combatant) ]
"Oh my stars," she whispered, staring.
"Did your… book thing just do that?"
I exhaled slowly, the Codex sigil fading from my chest.
"It responds to people bound by shared fate or purpose," I explained quietly.
"It's… hard to control. But sometimes, when it acknowledges someone, they're recorded and gifted something in return."
Libert blinked at his hand, then grinned broadly.
"So you're saying I got magic from hanging out with you?"
"Something like that."
He slammed his hand over his chest dramatically.
"Then from this day forth, I'll call you Master Kinon!"
"Wait, what"
The tavern burst into laughter.
Maleen chuckled, shaking her head.
"Oh, don't encourage him. You'll regret it."
Libert grinned, flexing his hand. A faint spark danced between his fingers. "Valor Spark, huh? Sounds like a fine skill for a hero!"
"You're not a hero," Arin muttered.
"I am now! Look, it even glows!"
Lysera's eyes softened.
"It seems… your influence grows, Master."
I sighed. "Don't start calling me that too."
"Understood… Master."
"Great. Now you too."
The tavern roared with laughter again.
For a moment, amid all the teasing and light, I almost forgot the blood and fire from before.
Almost...
----
Eventually, the conversation drifted to smaller things the stew, the strange local coin designs, Arin's terrible singing voice.
When the night finally grew deep, I ended up dragging Arin to our room.
"C'mon, you're barely standing," I muttered.
"But I only had juice…" Arin mumbled, wobbling as I pulled him up the stairs.
I sighed. How does someone get drunk off juice?
Lysera stood waiting by the door, her arms crossed.
"I will stay in your room tonight," she said half drunk.
..So even, the mightiest Pageborn gets drunk.
"Huh?...Why?..." I asked.
"It is much safer. If danger arises, I can respond immediately."
I hesitated.
Safer… or just embarrassing?
"Uh, I appreciate it," I said quickly.
"But, we each have our own rooms. You should rest as well."
Her brow furrowed slightly.
"As you command… however if I feel your life's in danger, I will not hesitate to enter your quarters."
Arin mumbled from behind me, "She really doesn't do subtle, huh?"
"Go to sleep," I said, shoving him inside.
Arin groaned something unintelligible before collapsing onto the bed, out cold in seconds.
I sighed and sat by the open window, the night air brushing against my face. The stars glittered above like scattered shards of glass, faint and distant, yet strangely comforting.
For the first time since arriving in this world, it felt quiet.
----
Then morning comes...
The morning mist still clung to the grass behind the inn, each blade glistening like a shard of glass. The soft hiss of mana filled the air as I traced a sigil through the cold morning light.
Lysera stood nearby, her hands folded neatly behind her back, silver hair fluttering with the breeze.
"Your flow is improving," she said softly. "But you hesitate at the crest."
"I'm still not used to the feeling," I admitted, sweat beading along my temple.
"Then stop fighting it. Mana is not tamed by force, it answers to intent."
Her calm tone reminded me of a teacher more than a companion. I found myself smiling slightly.
"You really do sound like my teacher from my old world."
She blinked, expression unreadable. "I am older than you."
"Right."
A faint silence followed—awkward, but strangely warm. The wind stirred, carrying the faint scent of dew and smoke from the kitchen chimney. Then she moved closer, placing her hand over mine to correct my stance.
"Again," she said quietly.
The mana pulsed between our palms, bright and alive, as the first rays of sunlight spilled across the yard.
----
The training lasted until the sun began to rise over the rooftops. By the time Arin stumbled out from the inn, yawning and scratching his head, sweat already lined my brow.
"Morning…" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "You two started without me again."
"You were still drooling in your sleep," I said.
He frowned. "That's uncalled for."
We returned inside for breakfast. The tavern was quieter in the morning, the smell of fresh bread and soup replacing the stench of ale. Maleen greeted us with her usual tired smile.
"Well, good morning, heroes. Hungry?"
"Starving," Libert grumbled from a nearby table, already halfway through his meal.
As we sat, Maleen set down plates of eggs, bread, and some kind of spiced meat. "That'll be five silvers," she said.
Arin blinked. "Wait, what? I thought our meals were free?"
Maleen chuckled. "Rooms were free, dear. Not breakfast."
Arin turned to me, panic in his eyes. "Uh, Master, do we even have money?"
I reached into my pouch and pulled out a few coins, silver with a sunburst engraving.
"Actually, one of the locals gave me these yesterday," I said.
"They called it a token of gratitude for saving them."
Yes, I do have money, I thought.
But I still don't know how much these are worth.
Maleen tapped the counter thoughtfully.
"Five silver zerries will do. Not bad for travelers."
"Zerries?" I echoed.
"Aye. Currency minted by the royal capital. One gold sol equals a hundred silver zerries, and ten copper scales make one ray."
Arin groaned. "That's… complicated."
Lysera tilted her head. "Not for those who can count."
He glared. "I can count just fine!"
Their bickering made Maleen chuckle.
"You two remind me of an old married couple."
Lysera blinked. "We are not married."
"That's the joke, dear."
As we ate, a silence settled between bites. I could feel it a question hanging unspoken in the air.
"How are we going to make a living?" Arin finally said.
"We can't just rely on handouts forever."
I nodded. "He's right. We need a source of income."
Maleen turned from the counter.
"Why don't you try the Adventurer's Guild?" she suggested.
"They're always hiring for quests and monster work. Though… I heard even the guild's having a hard time lately. The Tyrant's Hand's been squeezing them dry."
"Guild, huh?" I muttered, a spark of excitement flickering inside me.
Finally, an adventurer arc.
I looked up. "Where can we find it?"
"It's a bit of a walk from here," she said.
"Across the river, near the old plaza."
The tavern door creaked open then, and a familiar voice called out, "Good morning, everyone!"
Libert stepped in, looking surprisingly sober for once.
Maleen smiled slyly. "Perfect timing. Libert, be a dear and escort these folks to the guild house."
"Huh?" Libert blinked, looking between us and her. "Wait, what did I just walk into?"
"You'll see," I said, standing with a faint grin.
The streets of Thalorein were lively again under the morning sun. Merchants rebuilt stalls, children ran between alleys, and the air carried the smell of bread and burning charcoal. For a town that had nearly been destroyed a day ago, it was remarkably quick to heal.
As we walked, Libert explained more about the guild's structure ranks, quests, and rewards. The way he spoke reminded me of a soldier reminiscing about his youth.
Before long, the guild hall came into view a tall, stone building marked by a wooden emblem of crossed blades. Adventurers of all sorts gathered near the entrance, boasting about bounties and trading loot.
"This is it," Libert said proudly.
"Welcome to the Adventurer's Guild."
I took a step forward, a smile tugging at my lips. A new chapter begins.
But before we could enter, the heavy doors creaked open from the inside.
A towering man with a sharp scar across his cheek leaned against the frame, a grin spreading beneath his beard.
"Well, well… looks like we've got some new faces," he said.
"Name's Ruscious, Guildmaster of Thalorein."
The way his eyes glinted made my pulse quicken. There was something dangerous behind that grin something sharp, assessing.
"Welcome," he said, stepping aside. "Let's see if you've got what it takes to survive."
----
Meanwhile…
Deep beneath a merchant's estate, the sound of a whip cracked through the damp air.
"HOW DARE YOU COME BACK ALIVE, YOU WORTHLESS DOGS!"
The slaver, Benton, was red-faced with rage, his arm lashing out again and again. Blood splattered across the cold stone floor.
Kael gritted his teeth, muscles trembling as the whip tore into his back. "Stop! Punish me alone! She had nothing to do with it!"
Seraphine knelt beside him, trembling, her hands shaking. "Kael, please stop talking he'll kill you "
Benton sneered.
"Oh, don't worry. You'll both wish you'd died to that monster." He raised the whip again.
Then a new voice cut through the air calm, smooth, and deadly.
"My, my, Benton. Relieving your stress again?"
Benton froze. "Huh!? Lord Zerion! I I didn't realize you were here!"
From the darkness stepped a tall figure cloaked in black, a bone-white mask etched with runes concealing his face. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, colder.
Zerion's crimson eyes glowed faintly through the mask.
"Don't bother explaining. I'm not here for you."
He turned his gaze toward the two trembling slaves. "I'm here for them."
Seraphine flinched, clutching Kael's arm. Kael growled low, his fangs bared despite the pain.
Zerion chuckled softly.
"No need to be afraid… I only want to ask a few questions."
A second shadow moved behind him silent, formless, yet exuding a chilling presence.
Benton swallowed hard, his face pale.
"W-who's that with you, my lord?"
Zerion's head tilted slightly.
"No one of consequence… yet."
The second figure stepped deeper into the gloom, his voice low and cold.
"And then," he murmured, as the candlelight flickered out.
"Let's see, how well they can dance."