Chapter 122 – Adventurer Lore

Sera has been staring at the sky for approximately forty-seven seconds.

Reasonable.

The first time someone learns that I possess a personal reality containing its own eternal night sky, a brief period of silent contemplation is to be expected.

“So you made this?”

“Correct.”

“While fighting a dragon?”

“Correct.”

Her gaze drifts across the hill.

Black dahlias have overtaken nearly every patch of visible ground, their petals shifting faintly beneath the starlight. Kaleidoscopic vines move lazily between them, one currently occupied with the vital task of refilling Sera’s cup with berry juice.

Then her attention returns to me.

More specifically, to the starlight currently outlining my silhouette in an exceptionally flattering manner. And to the vines curled around me like exceptionally loving snakes.

She remains silent for several seconds.

Then—

“Okay.”

Avelyn giggles.

My cheek puffs out without permission.

She could at least pretend to be more visibly impressed.

Admittedly, her ears are standing almost perfectly upright, and her tail has been moving beneath her cloak for most of the explanation, so she very obviously is, but still.

That is significantly less entertaining than the expressions everyone else made when I first explained this in the dungeon.

Tragic.

“Aww, look at her, she’s pouting!”

“Adorableee!”

“Friendship ahead! Therefore try tears of joy!”

I tilt my head toward the stars.

“Can stars even cry?”

A brief pause follows.

“...no.”

Sera glances toward Avelyn.

The healer merely smiles and shrugs.

“You get used to it eventually. She opens little holes sometimes to say goodnight or ask questions.” Avelyn pauses thoughtfully. “Most of the questions are about food or weirdly specific System things.”

I bump her shoulder with mine.

She smiles innocently.

This is undignified.

At this rate, Sera is going to conclude that I spend all of my time thinking about food and progression.

Unacceptable.

There are also aesthetics.

I am about to correct the record when Sera speaks first.

“So what role are you?”

I tilt my head.

“Role?”

She nods.

“You do a lot. Do you even have one?”

...?

I glance toward Marek.

Recognition crosses his face almost immediately.

“Right. You haven’t dealt with the Guild yet.”

He shifts slightly in his chair.

“To make party building easier, the Adventurers’ Guild groups combatants into broad roles based on what they’re best at. Most roles also have specializations.”

He gestures toward Rin.

“Rin’s a Duelist with a Suppressor specialization. He’s strongest when focusing on one target, especially when his Frostflame starts interfering with their movement and defenses.”

Rin’s ears rise slightly at being used as the demonstration.

Marek pats one thick forearm.

“I’m a Tank with a Juggernaut specialization. Still built around protecting everyone, but better at advancing into pressure instead of just holding ground.”

He motions around the group.

“Sylrae’s a Scout with a Sniper specialization. Zeke is general Artillery for now.”

Zeke gives a small shrug.

“Accurate.”

Marek turns toward Sera.

“From what you’ve shown us, I’d put you down as a Controller. No specialization yet, but the terrain shaping and that corruption of yours fit pretty cleanly.”

Sera nods once.

“That makes sense.”

Hm.

So it is essentially a standardized collection of class archetypes.

Convenient.

I turn toward Avelyn.

“And your role?”

Her tail immediately gives an incredibly smug swish.

Avelyn smiles at me.

“Saint.”

I blink.

…

Of course she is.

Marek chuckles.

“Holy is one of the best support Aspects around. Healing, buffs, purification, it can cover several different support roles depending on the user’s skills.” He gives Avelyn an appreciative look. “Once someone with a Holy Aspect gets strong enough to handle enough of those jobs at the same time, the Guild stops bothering with the normal classifications.”

Avelyn straightens slightly.

“Then they call you a Saint.”

Her tail swishes again.

I stare at her.

She looks unbearably pleased with herself.

Of course she does.

If my official combat role came with a title that dramatic, I would also be insufferable about it.

Speaking of…

I tilt my head toward Marek.

“In that case, what is my role?”

I genuinely cannot imagine where I would fit inside an RPG archetype system.

Duelist might be the closest comparison, but using the same label for Rin and me feels somewhat like examining a shopping cart with one defective wheel and a forklift, then declaring both to be methods of transporting cargo.

Technically correct.

Profoundly unhelpful.

Marek thinks about the question for several seconds.

“In this party?” he finally says. “Executioner. Reaper specialization.”

My ears perk immediately.

Reaper.

…

Yes.

That is appropriately dramatic.

I approve.

Introducing myself as a Reaper whenever someone asks about my combat role appeals aggressively to my entirely rational aesthetic sensibilities.

Marek notices my ears.

“You like that one, huh?”

“It is acceptable.”

Rin snorts.

My tail swishes excitedly.

Traitor.

Marek continues before anyone can comment further.

“Executioners are the people you point at whatever the biggest problem in an encounter happens to be. Bosses, elite monsters, dangerous variants, anything you really don’t want running around while everyone else is occupied.”

Ah.

An exceptionally sensible profession.

“Reapers are a specialization of Executioner built more toward smaller targets. They’re usually extremely mobile and hit one thing very hard. Less suited for bringing down something the size of a building, but terrifying against anything that needs to be chased.”

My tail gives another swish, this time contemplative.

So, essentially, the ultimate anti-unit specialist.

Identify a particularly inconvenient target. Become a fox-shaped ballistic missile. Severely reduce the quality of its afternoon.

Repeat as necessary.

Yes.

Reaper fits quite nicely.

There is, however, one part of Marek’s answer that catches my attention.

“You specified in this party.”

He goes quiet.

I narrow my eyes slightly.

“What would I be otherwise?”

Marek looks toward Rin.

Rin answers immediately.

“Oh, definitely.”

Sylrae nods from her chair.

“Not even close.”

...?

I look toward Avelyn.

She appears to understand whatever secret conversation has just occurred.

Even Zeke is studying me with the expression of someone who has recently been given enough information to arrive at a concerning conclusion.

Only Sera and I seem to be unaware of whatever silent conversation is currently happening.

My ears angle sideways.

“What?”

Marek scratches his beard.

“Well... the Guild probably wouldn’t classify you as a Reaper.”

My tail stops.

This had better not be a downgrade.

“They’d probably give you a special role. Same way Avelyn qualifies as a Saint.”

Avelyn’s ears perk with renewed interest.

Marek pauses just long enough to make the answer irritatingly dramatic.

“Sovereign.”

My ears rise fully.

My tail gives one extremely enthusiastic swish behind me.

…

Traitors. Again.

I force both accessories back under control.

“Sovereign,” I repeat.

Rin grins.

“She likes that one even more.”

“I have expressed no such thing.”

“You don't have to.”

My tail attempts another swish.

I pin it beneath one of my vines.

Order is restored.

Marek is visibly trying not to laugh.

“A Sovereign is someone who can fill a ridiculous number of roles at close to specialist levels. They’re extremely rare because just being versatile isn’t enough. Plenty of adventurers can do several things.”

He gestures toward me.

“A Sovereign has to do several things exceptionally well.”

That is a much more reasonable standard.

“They need enough mobility to reposition themselves, enough offense to handle major threats, enough survivability to function without constant protection, and enough adaptability that exploiting one weakness usually just means discovering another part of their kit.”

I consider my various abilities.

Fair.

“The biggest requirement is independence,” Marek continues. “A normal adventurer is built around a party. Someone covers what they can’t do.”

His expression becomes slightly more serious.

“A Sovereign is someone whose abilities cover enough of their own weaknesses that you can drop them into almost any situation and reasonably expect them to function.”

Zeke leans back slightly.

“In other words, they're horribly annoying to plan around.”

Sylrae gives him a thoughtful look.

“From the enemy’s perspective?”

“From everyone's perspective.”

Rude.

Accurate, perhaps, but still rude.

Marek chuckles before finishing.

“That’s why the Guild treats them differently. Sovereigns aren't really assigned to encounters based on what role needs filling.” He looks directly at me. “The encounter gets built around the Sovereign.”

Silence settles over the table.

My tail slowly escapes from beneath the vine.

It swishes once.

Very smugly.

Yes.

I believe I will be keeping that one.

Obviously.

“Sovereign daughter!”

“Very sovereign!”

“Queen of foxes!”

“Crown! Crown! Crown!”

Several stars immediately begin rearranging themselves into a crown above me.

I disperse the forming constellation before anyone can ask why the night sky has spontaneously decided to coronate me.

Avelyn notices anyway.

A tragedy.

She gives me an amused look.

“Kiss her!”

I immediately point at the offending star.

“You are hereby banned from speaking for a week.”

“...worth it.”

Avelyn blinks.

“What did they say?”

My ears angle outward slightly.

“Nothing.”

She tilts her head, somehow maintaining her usual warm smile despite the question mark practically floating above it.

I elect not to elaborate.

Instead, I hop down from my perch on the table and allow the Garden to collapse.

Black dahlias dissolve into the void as my vines sink away, the eternal night overhead folding inward until the torn veil seals behind it. Evening sunlight returns to the hill a moment later.

Then I withdraw another teleportation talisman.

“Shall we return?”

Sera finishes the last of her berry juice while Avelyn hops down from her own perch, settling beside me.

Sylrae stretches her wings.

Across the table, Rin and Zeke’s forks simultaneously descend upon the final roasted carrot.

A brief but vicious conflict follows.

Rin wins.

Zeke looks betrayed.

Marek watches me turn the talisman over in my fingers.

“You’re using those things quite a bit, Little Miss. Wouldn’t it be better to just walk back?”

I blink at him.

“With your Dexterity, that would require roughly an hour. Possibly two.” Four vines sprout from my thighs. “Unless you would prefer that I—”

“No.”

The response is immediate.

Marek scratches the back of his head and chuckles.

“I would rather not do that again.”

Reasonable.

His previous experience with vine transportation had produced several memorable expressions and a request that I never utilize such undignified methods of travel again.

I shrug.

“The usage should not present much of an issue. I still possess plenty from the tutorial shop, and once those are exhausted, I have memorized the runic sequence. Replication should be possible once my understanding of runes advances sufficiently.”

Marek stares at me.

“The fact that you can say you’ve memorized an entire teleportation runic sequence that casually is ridiculous.”

I tilt my head.

“I looked at it.”

“That does not make it less ridiculous.”

Debatable.

Sylrae leans forward over the table.

“Wait. How many of those do you actually have? Something that useful had to cost a fortune.”

True.

Each linked pair cost one and a half thousand tutorial points.

Cheap enough that even someone who performed merely adequately during the tutorial could probably afford one or two if they considered emergency transportation worthwhile.

Expensive enough that most people would presumably treat every activation like they were physically burning money.

Unfortunately for the concept of fiscal restraint, I had spent much of the tutorial conducting a crusade against the local ecosystem and acquired enough points that the price barely registered.

I answer honestly.

“Dozens.”

Sylrae blinks.

Rin stops chewing.

Even Sera looks toward me.

“So they weren’t expens—” Sylrae stops herself.

Her eyes narrow.

Then she sighs.

“Who am I kidding? They were expensive for anyone remotely normal, weren’t they?”

“Correct.”

Another sigh.

“Figured.”

Sera looks at the talisman. Then at me.

“How many points did you have?”

I pause.

Hm.

That particular answer may cause unnecessary questions. Questions liable to produce even more inconvenient questions, such as “How many monsters did you kill?” or “Did you burn down an entire forest?”

Neither of which I currently feel inclined to answer.

“A respectable amount.”

Sera’s eyes narrow slightly.

Sylrae laughs.

“She means an unreasonable amount.”

“Slander.”

Nobody appears convinced.

Tragic.

Everyone links hands, and I activate the talisman.

Approximately half a second later, I realize that we have left both the table and every chair sitting unattended on top of the hill.

Hm.

Some random traveler is eventually going to stumble across an immaculate wooden dining set in the middle of nowhere with absolutely no explanation for how it arrived there.

Or perhaps a sufficiently intelligent slime.

An unfortunate oversight.

Ultimately harmless, however.

Therefore, completely intentional.

Obviously.

White light floods my vision.

When it fades, the hilltop has been replaced by Avelyn and my room at the inn, complete with dull walls, minimal decoration, and the aggressively stereotypical fantasy atmosphere that this inn appears legally obligated to maintain.

And also—

…

My eyes lock onto the bed.

A vine shoots discreetly from my thigh.

Mr. Prickles 2.0 vanishes into my spatial storage before anyone other than Avelyn can notice his presence.

Excellent.

Being discovered traveling with a cactus plushie would be mildly humiliating, and I shall not be enduring such indignities today.

It was bad enough when Avelyn awoke before me and discovered him.

Unfortunately, this room contains the only teleportation anchor I placed inside the village.

Hindsight is truly a magnificent thing.

I should have hidden one somewhere downstairs before we left.

Everyone spends a few moments reacquiring their bearings as hands unlink around the room.

Sylrae makes a suspicious snorting noise.

Rin looks between Avelyn and me. Then toward the bed. Then back toward us.

An extremely strange grin spreads across his face.

I have no idea what that expression is supposed to convey.

“You two are still sharing a bed?”

Avelyn immediately turns red. Her hand, which has apparently not yet released mine, becomes noticeably warmer.

I look toward Rin.

“Yes?”

“You know the caravan’s gone now, right? There should be rooms available with two beds.”

I tilt my head.

“A double room costs more. Why would we switch?”

Rin opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Then looks toward Sylrae.

She has developed an expression of profound amusement.

If we were arriving at a new inn, naturally I would purchase a room with two beds.

Switching now, however, would require speaking with the innkeeper, as well as dedicating valuable portions of my day to unnecessary logistics. Time that could instead be spent snacking, experimenting with skills, sleeping, or talking with Avelyn.

Objectively inefficient.

Rin rallies.

“Okay. Fair. But couldn’t you just make another bed out of Starlight? Those cushions were soft.”

I stare at him.

“Do you have any idea how much Stamina creating an entire functional bed would require?”

He hesitates.

“No?”

“At least half a day of regeneration.”

Rin slowly leans back.

“Right...”

Zeke pats him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“At least you tried.”

Tried what?

Sylrae is now openly grinning at Avelyn.

Avelyn refuses to look at her.

Even Sera is watching me with faint bewilderment.

...?

I get the distinct impression that I have missed an exceptionally obvious social cue.

How curious.

The silence stretches for another few seconds before Sera apparently decides she has suffered enough.

She stretches, adjusts the spear across her back, and steps toward the door.

“I’m going home. Meet here tomorrow?”

Marek nods.

“Anytime’s fine. We’re not in a rush.” He gives her an easy smile. “Get some proper sleep. If you want another day or two here after spending a week in that dungeon, we can wait.”

Sera shakes her head.

“Tonight is enough.” Her tail gives a small sweep behind her. “We can leave tomorrow.”

“Works for me.” Marek raises a hand. “Sleep well.”

Sera nods.

“You too.” She reaches the door, pauses, then glances back toward me. “Thanks for dinner.”

My ears rise slightly.

“You are quite welcome.”

She gives another tiny smile before leaving.

Avelyn looks at me.

I look back.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Suspicious.

The others filter out shortly afterward amid brief goodnights and plans to meet downstairs the following morning.

Rin is still grinning when he leaves.

I remain uncertain as to why.

Probably Catkin nonsense.

Social obligations now fully managed, I finally release Avelyn’s hand and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back against my palms.

Avelyn takes a seat beside me.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” she asks. “You finally get to see Bramblegate!”

“I am.”

Her tail immediately begins to swish.

Not particularly fast.

Just a slow, content movement as her attention drifts somewhere beyond the walls of the inn.

...She really does love it there. Enough that merely thinking about returning makes her look happier.

And yet she still plans to leave.

She is going to willingly abandon a place she loves in order to travel toward Ironvale. Toward danger. Toward people she has never met, purely because she believes she can help them.

My gaze drifts toward the ceiling.

…

I wonder what that feels like.

To have somewhere you genuinely believe you belong.

Perhaps it is similar to how I feel about the stars.

Except…

No matter how strongly I feel that I belong with them, I cannot actually reach them.

And they cannot reach me.

Not now. Perhaps not ever.

Something in my chest tightens. Far more sharply than expected.

…

I dislike that.

My gaze shifts sideways.

Avelyn is still smiling.

Her tail continues its gentle movement behind her, occasionally brushing against the blanket.

I think…

I may have been somewhat cruel to her.

She has somewhere she loves. Somewhere filled with memories and places she wants to share with me.

And for the past several days, I have deliberately prevented her from doing so, aside from the minor fun facts in the bath.

Why? Because I wanted to avoid spoilers.

…

That is quite literally the entire reason.

The tightness in my chest worsens.

It hurts.

Unacceptable.

I have decided that I thoroughly dislike this sensation.

Fortunately, it is still early. The sun has only recently disappeared, and several hours remain before either of us should reasonably consider sleeping.

I open my mouth.

“What is your favorite place in Bramblegate?”

Avelyn freezes.

Her eyes widen slightly.

For several seconds, she simply stares at me.

Then her entire expression brightens.

“Well, there’s this really tall tower near the center of the city that overlooks almost everything! You can see all the way past the walls from the top, and the view is amazing around sunset. Oh! And there’s this bakery near the gate that makes these little fruit pastries with berries inside, except they only make them in the mornings because—”

And she is gone.

Completely.

One location becomes another. A bakery becomes a market stall. The market somehow leads into a story about a fountain, which reminds her of a park, which apparently contains a tree she used to climb despite being repeatedly told not to.

Her tail grows steadily more animated with every new subject.

I say very little.

There is no need.

Avelyn seems perfectly capable of supplying enough words for both of us.

So I listen.

And somewhere in the middle of an extremely detailed explanation regarding which bakery in Bramblegate produces the objectively superior berry tart, I realize that I am smiling.

I touch two fingers lightly to the corner of my lips, carefully mapping every angle of the expression.

Hm.

Yes.

This is much better.

I believe I will keep this one.

If only for her.