Fathir sighed. He shifted his gaze from the remains of the battle to Xavier, who was walking toward him. The Royal Guardian’s blue uniform was now tattered and stained.
"Long time no see, Xavier," Fathir greeted, his tone flat. "Don’t forget to add five thousand gold coins to my payment later." Fathir glanced at the several scratches on Xavier’s body. "Do you want me to heal your wounds too?"
Xavier gave a hoarse laugh as he sheathed his sword at his hip. "No need. My regeneration is pretty good at this level."
"hooh" Fathir answered simply.
"I didn’t expect you to take this mission," Xavier said, looking Fathir up and down. "Are you going to be an active adventurer again?"
"I just need money man what else?," Fathir replied casually, leaning his shoulder against the stem of a giant mushroom. "After this, I’m going to spend time in Elfier with my beloved wife." He then folded his arms across his chest. "What information did you get on that man?"
Xavier massaged his temples, his expression weary. "You’ve probably read it already. He killed his own squad inside the dungeon. We thought the motive was for an instant level-up, but—"
"That’s all debunked because he’s over level 40, right? Heh," Fathir cut in. His relaxed expression was replaced by a serious gaze. "He... is not human. He’s disguised as a human."
"The reason?" Xavier asked.
Fathir gave a slight smile and held up three fingers. "Three hundred gold coins."
Xavier bit his lip. "F-fine."
Fathir looked up at the pink sky, then sighed again. "My level is high enough, so I can tell... He is a high-level assassin... maybe around level one hundred or more."
"One hundred?!" Xavier’s jaw tensed; he couldn’t hide his shock.
Fathir nodded. "On my way here, I was being watched by a crow. When I killed it, it turned out the crow had the same magic flow as that man." Fathir turned his head, his gaze sharp. "You know... what that means?"
Xavier was silent for a moment, processing the information. He then said in a low voice, "A demi-human... the Rituk Kingdom."
"right!" Fathir praised. He shook his head slowly and clicked his tongue. "He’s an assassin... joins a party with lower-level members... blends in for months, maybe years, pretending to be a comrade, then kills them all. Tsk, tsk, tsk."
"It seems you already know his motive," Xavier stated.
"Unfortunately, this is related to my class, so I can’t tell you," Fathir shrugged.
"Such a shit class," Xavier muttered.
Suddenly, his eyes widened slightly as he remembered something. "Oh, right."
Fathir raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Xavier’s expression turned concerned. "How are the adventurers who came here? Are they alright?"
"They were about to die, but I saved them," Fathir said. "But unfortunately, the guards are dead. They were killed by that man’s clone."
Xavier’s face grew grim. "I see... what a shame."
"Oh yeah, I found something strange about that squad," Fathir said, placing a hand on his chin, his eyes narrowing.
"What is it?"
"There’s one man who wears strange clothes, holds a strange object, and I can’t identify his power."
Xavier’s pupils dilated slightly. He remembered the data he’d briefly seen before entering the dungeon. Someone with level 000. Could it be him...
Inside the Horse-Drawn Carriage
The wheels of the carriage creaked and rumbled softly over the dirt road. Inside, the silence was heavy. Illya sat next to Fyar, while Zaefal sat across from them, next to Rasie. No one was speaking. Zaefal stared blankly out the window, Rasie leaned his head against the carriage wall with his eyes closed, and Illya just looked down at her own hands. They were still trying to process everything that had just happened.
When Illya asked their driver what had happened, the man just shook his head in confusion. He couldn’t remember anything. After dropping them off at the dungeon, he had immediately fallen asleep and was only woken up when Illya banged frantically on the carriage door.
"At least... we’re still alive," Zaefal said, his voice breaking the silence.
"Yeah... mm... yeah... still alive haha," Rasie mumbled softly, his eyes still closed.
"M-my gold coins..." Fyar sighed, covering his face with his hands.
Zaefal turned, looking at his comrades one by one. "Rest tomorrow. No training. Find some entertainment or anything that can make you happy."
"Make us happy..." Rasie repeated. He then opened his eyes, pulled a novel out of his pocket, and began to read.
Illya’s eyelids felt incredibly heavy. She repeatedly tried to open them, but her head kept drooping.
Fyar noticed the girl’s movements. He gave her a gentle smile. "Lean on my shoulder. Get some rest, you worked very hard today."
Illya returned his smile, then slowly rested her head on Fyar’s shoulder and immediately closed her eyes. Fyar could feel the girl’s breathing begin to even out and the warmth from her body.
Fyar then shifted his gaze out the window. The sky was already a deep orange, signaling that the day would soon be over.
Tomorrow I’ll pick up some equipment from Robert and my custom-made clothes... after that, maybe take a walk with Laura or Cyhas. In the afternoon, maybe enjoy nature... yeah, perfect. I’ll just train on Monday.
..........
As their horse-drawn carriage entered the city gate, its pace slowed and finally came to a stop. The carriage door opened, revealing several people waiting under the light of the city lanterns.
A middle-aged woman immediately ran towards the door upon seeing Illya. "Illya! My darling!" her voice trembled. She pulled her daughter from the carriage and embraced her, her hands checking Illya’s arms and shoulders. An older man stood behind her, placing a hand on their shoulders, his eyes wet.
Fyar, Zaefal, and Rasie stepped out of the carriage and stood a little ways off, giving the family space. The news about the incident at the dungeon had apparently spread quickly.
After that, she was led away by her family. Her three companions just stood in silence for a moment before finally parting ways.
Fyar walked alone down the stone-paved streets toward the inn.
He pushed open the wooden door. A small bell above it jingled softly. Inside, a few patrons were scattered about, chatting and enjoying their meals.
A few of them glanced in Fyar’s direction, whispering amongst themselves.
Laura was wiping down a table. The girl immediately looked up, her eyes widening the moment she saw Fyar.
"Fyar!" she exclaimed. She dropped her rag and rushed over to him. "You’re back! I heard there was an incident at the dungeon. Are you okay? Are you hurt?" The questions tumbled out in a rush.
Fyar simply shook his head.
Laura didn’t press him further. She led Fyar to an empty chair. "Wait here."
The girl hurried into the kitchen. Not long after, she returned with a tray holding a steaming bowl of hot soup and a glass of a warm drink. She placed it carefully in front of Fyar.
"Eat while it’s hot, it’s on me," Laura said softly.
Fyar looked at the soup before him, then at Laura, who was smiling sincerely at him. He didn’t answer. Slowly, he picked up the spoon and began to eat the soup.