Chapter 38: A Hire, Class Change Crystal

The twelve of them didn’t stay twelve for long after the boss fight ended.

"Seven of you, head back," Logan said, looking over the group still catching their breath on the hilltop. "Bryowulf, get that wound looked at properly once you’re home. Tell Dragoon to concoct a potion for it. Solveig, Juggernaut, Thistle, Vex, Blitzhawk, Nova, go with him and defend the base for any trouble that comes knocking."

"Billy, Tide, Zephyr, you’re with me." He looked at Stitchgrin and Maw last. "And you two especially. We’re still hunting, and you’re the only ones who actually get stronger from it out here because of your talents."

Stitchgrin’s toy box only grew fuller the more he swallowed on the road, and Maw’s Voidmaw still had slots open for whatever he came across worth keeping. Neither of them would gain anything sitting idle back home.

They cut north from the hilltop, and the next two hours went the way most of this trip had gone by now, monsters found, monsters gone, Stitchgrin’s bag and Maw’s stomach both a little fuller by the time Logan finally checked his Tower Points again.

```

[ 103,820 Tower Points ]

```

He’d crossed it somewhere in the last hour without even noticing.

’There it is. Finally.’

Somewhere in that same stretch, a different notification he’d been waiting on for a lot longer finally came through.

```

[ Class Level 10 reached. ]

```

Logan put two skill points in Restore.

[ Restore has reached Level 11. ]

His stomach dropped and lifted at the same time. This was the thing he’d been holding onto since the Mimic first took his hand off at the wrist.

He stopped walking, held up the stump, and cast the skill on himself before he could talk himself out of getting his hopes up too high.

’Restore.’

```

[ Restore used on self ]

-100 MP

```

Warm light spread down his arm, familiar by now, closing old scar tissue that had already healed as much as it was going to. Nothing else happened. No new fingers. No hand at all.

He stood there a moment, staring at the same stump he’d had for longer than he wanted to count anymore.

’Guess that hope’s dead, then.’

The disappointment didn’t sit long before something practical elbowed it out of the way.

’It looks like I’ll have to create a Mythic-rank support and healer unit. Not one, but two. I’d need them anyway.’

He tucked the thought away and kept walking north.

The pond clearing looked exactly the way he remembered it, still and green under that same wide canopy where he’d killed his first Field Boss what felt like a lifetime ago now.

Romen was still there too, same folding table, same easy patience, like he had nowhere better to be regardless of how long anyone made him wait.

But someone else had gotten there first.

A young man stood at the table already, a small handful of summons arranged loosely behind him, browsing whatever Romen currently had laid out.

Logan recognized him before he even got close enough to see his face properly.

’Him.’ Something clicked into place, an idea forming faster than he expected. ’Maybe I should get some hands that can help me.’

A glint passed through his eyes.

He walked up without any particular hurry. Player Tronking spotted him a few steps out, and his whole body went rigid with panic before he registered who it actually was and let out a breath of relief.

The relief didn’t last. His face shifted again almost immediately, remembering exactly what Logan had told him the last time they’d stood this close.

"Stop." Logan raised a hand before Tronking could bolt. "I’m not planning to eliminate you. I actually have an idea."

Tronking didn’t move, waiting.

"You work for me. Help me find other players’ bases, and in exchange, your survival time goes up. So does your overall score."

Tronking swallowed hard. "You already have ten thousand-plus score right now. It jumped by four thousand all at once, right when that announcement went out about you beating the first Champion Field Boss. And you’ve got the most eliminations in the match too. That’s insane."

"Yeah." Logan didn’t bother denying any of it. "I want it higher. Help me, and you get a better score out of it too. Bring me the location of a player’s base, and I’ll assign you one of my Mythic-rank summons. A single Mythic is enough to completely change how your match goes."

Tronking’s eyes lit up. "For real?"

"Yep."

"But how do I even contact you?"

Logan thought about it for a second before the answer came to him.

"Stitchgrin. Take out a toy, station it here. If someone talks to it or touches it, you’d feel that, right?"

Stitchgrin nodded, grinning wide. "Of course. Hehehe. I can see and hear through them too."

"Perfect."

Stitchgrin reached into his own chest and pulled something small out, a plush fox no bigger than a hand, button eyes already blinking on their own. He set it down on the corner of Romen’s table, and it settled there as it had always belonged.

"There you go." Logan nodded toward it. "Talk to that, and I’ll know."

Tronking picked the little thing up and turned it over once, something like disbelief still sitting behind his eyes. "Alright. I’ll find you something good."

He left at a jog, already scanning the treeline for whatever direction looked most promising.

Logan turned back to Romen, who hadn’t moved an inch through any of it.

"Ready now?" Romen’s smile hadn’t changed either, patient as ever.

"Yeah." Logan pulled up his Tower Points. "Let’s do this."

```

[ Class Change Crystal purchased. -100,000 Tower Points ]

```

The crystal settled into his palm, small and unassuming for something that was about to erase everything he currently was and replace it with something else entirely.

"So, boss." Romen leaned against the table, arms crossed, easy grin already in place. "Whatchu planning to cook with this for your new class?"

Logan turned the crystal over once in his palm.

"Working on it."