Sweet Reward
Ian stretched his legs inside the sleeping bag and lay back with a rare sense of comfort. Across from him, Zenon was using the light of a lantern hanging from the tent ceiling to carefully tend to his beloved blades.
A clean cloth soaked in oil glided smoothly over the sword’s sleek surface with a soft, rhythmic shhhk, shhhk. Listening to that steady, repeating friction, Ian’s eyelids grew heavy in an instant.
Just then, Zenon’s low voice broke the silence.
At Zenon’s subtle suggestion, Ian suddenly remembered what Pelua from the Owl Bookstore had once told him—about how deep and fierce an adventurer’s obsession could be. He felt like he could understand that question a little better now.
To build the kind of overwhelming power he had witnessed today, they must have endured an incredible amount of time filled with patience and single-minded obsession.
Zenon… must have something he really wants to find in the labyrinth using my Detection skill.
In the past, he would have refused without a second thought. But things were different now. After spending several days fighting for their lives alongside the Shield of Thorny Vines Guild, a sense of camaraderie had quietly taken root in a corner of his heart. He didn’t want to cut Zenon’s offer down sharply and make their precious relationship awkward.
In the end, Ian let out a small sigh and gave a positive answer.
Zenon reached into the small leather pouch at his waist and pulled out something that looked like a palm-sized marble slab. Its edges were smoothly rounded, and an intricate, complex magic circle was engraved in the center.
Magical Tool
A paired artifact. Infusing mana into one stone causes the other to glow and emit a flute-like sound. When the recipient also channels mana into their stone, voices can be transmitted between them.
Ian shot upright as he shouted.
Ian carefully accepted the smooth, ivory-colored Communication Stone Zenon handed him. For some reason, it felt like he had taken one step deeper into his connection with the Shield of Thorny Vines Guild, and a fresh smile spread across his lips.
The next day, Gelian—reached deep in the night—was still buzzing with festival energy. While Ian’s group had arrived slowly on foot, the Blue Wave Knights from the lord’s castle had ridden in around noon, putting on a parade that felt like a victory march.
The citizens of Gelian shed tears of relief and joy. Merchants, mercenaries, and travelers staying in the city also embraced one another and cheered at the news that the roads through the Ephel Mountains were finally safe again. Every tavern offered beer at half price, and restaurants slashed meal costs as if by agreement, sharing in the happiness.
After parting ways with the Shield of Thorny Vines Guild members on the main street, Ian leaned against the entrance of an alley, soaking in the lively festival atmosphere and watching people in a daze. Then Lucas’s casual remark from earlier that day suddenly came back to him.
“That lichified black magician. Looks like he was a dropout even among black magicians. From the records, they prefer keeping their original bodies intact. So he must have been way behind the others in his group. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he eventually chose the extreme path of becoming a lich.”
Ian let out a quiet sigh. Even a black magician called a dropout could turn into a lich if he set his mind to it and make an entire city of this size tremble in fear.
Then… just how wicked and powerful would a real, proper black magician be?
A chill ran down his spine for a moment. But the boisterous laughter drifting over soon swept away his needless worries. The people born and raised here were enjoying themselves without a care. There was no point in someone who had only settled here barely a month ago worrying ahead of time.
He stayed submerged in the festival noise for a while longer. Then, slowly, he turned his steps toward his shelter—Room 205 at Grandma Masa’s Dream’s Shelter Inn.
That night, he fell into such a sweet, deep sleep that he didn’t even dream. For Ian, it was the most perfect ending imaginable.
Ian suffered from terrible muscle pain for four whole days.
When he first returned to the inn, the tension had left his body and he felt fine. But the next morning when he opened his eyes, every inch of him ached so badly that tears welled up. Grandma Masa had nearly fainted and screamed at the sight of him crawling down to the dining hall like a dying man.
Thankfully, by the fifth day—today—he could finally walk and move like a normal person again. And at last, the moment came to receive a just reward for all that bone-grinding hardship. Bartin of the Shield of Thorny Vines Guild, who had been stuck at the lord’s castle for days because of the party, came looking for him at the Dream’s Shelter Inn.
Even while grumbling, Ian greeted him warmly. The two left the inn and moved to a cozy little tavern tucked at the entrance of an alley. Bartin ordered a heavy dark beer while Ian chose a sweet fruit drink. They quenched their thirst and poured out all the stories they had stored up.
Ian shook his head. He felt genuinely relieved that at least he hadn’t been dragged into that chaotic mess.
Bartin grinned, then gave Ian a look that asked how he had spent his time.
At Bartin’s sincere praise, Ian gave a small, bashful smile. Then, taking advantage of the tavern owner stepping away to the storeroom, Bartin pulled a heavy leather pouch from his coat and handed it to Ian.
As soon as Ian quickly slipped the pouch into his bag, Bartin continued with a serious look in his eyes.
Bartin reached out and roughly tousled Ian’s hair. His touch was rough and calloused, yet it carried the warm affection of a doting uncle. Even as Ian felt his hair turning into a bird’s nest, a happy smile bloomed on his face, his heart filling with a soft, fuzzy warmth.
After parting with Bartin, Ian hurried back to the Dream’s Shelter Inn with a pounding heart. When he stepped into the dining hall, Grandma Masa was sweeping the quiet room by herself.
Grandma Masa straightened her bent back and took a seat behind the counter. Ian asked her for an empty coin pouch. The moment she handed it over, he took six Rapian gold coins from his leather bag, dropped them inside, and passed it to her.
It was a huge sum—three hundred gold. Grandma Masa’s wrinkled eyes widened so much the creases smoothed out as she stared at Ian.
Rather than rejoicing over the money, Grandma Masa looked at Ian with eyes full of pity and tenderness, as if heartbroken over the suffering he must have gone through to earn such a fortune.
By adding half a month extra, she was making an extraordinary promise to let him keep this room as his home for a full year.
With this, Ian had finally established a solid foundation where he could earn money freely without worrying about lodging fees. It was a day when he had taken one large, stable step forward on his long journey in this other world.