The past few days had settled into a new routine.

Mornings started with breakfast alongside my companions, the Ironwood team. Our conversations drifted between casual updates and deeper discussions about skill builds, potential future raids, or city gossip. Orin liked to mock duel Muradin with spoons whenever things got too serious. Darwyn usually flipped through bounty boards between bites of bread, muttering to himself about which targets would "bleed the most coin."

But strangely, there had been no mention of the Deepnest Tunnel incident.

Not a whisper of the missing Royal Guard unit. No public alerts. No investigations. Nothing.

"Still nothing in the gazettes," I muttered one morning, folding the paper and tossing it onto the table.

"They'd need serious pull to cover up a massacre like that," Darwyn added, eyes narrowing. "Even a single soldier going missing usually sparks a patrol sweep."

"You're thinking Palace connections?" Elena asked, brows raised.

"Or someone high up bought off with more stones than conscience," I said grimly.

After breakfast, I would stop by various equipment shops, checking for any druid-specific gear, with no success so far, before making my way to the Grand Library.

One of the biggest advantages of living in the city center was easy access to all these locations, saving valuable time.

In the late afternoons, I drifted into the Eastern District. The slums were a nest of whispers, and in the game, dozens of side quests involving political intrigue and underground crime began in its shady taverns. Dressed in a long, hooded robe, I lurked in the corners of pubs, ears open.

"Another team went missing, they say," someone whispered in one alley.

"Don't speak of it here. They are everywhere," came the hushed reply.

Unfortunately, no solid leads. Just fragments. Suspicion. Fear.

Today marked the fifth day since my return from the Tower. Saturday.

It was time to check in on my little protégé, Samus Xavier.

As usual, he was waiting at the entrance of the Adventurer's Training Grounds, right on time, exactly three o'clock. Spotting me, his face lit up like someone had cast a light spell on him.

"Hi, Sir Erynd!" he called, practically bouncing on his feet. "It's great to see you again! Did you get the Soul Fragment you were after?"

I chuckled, walking toward him. "Not yet. The details are... complicated." I ruffled his hair. "What about you? Has your control improved? Last time, you promised you'd finally master Aqua Whip."

"Hehehe, you better be ready to be amazed! I've been practicing day and night!" he boasted proudly.

"But! In return..." he jabbed a finger toward me, voice dropping into dramatic seriousness, "...you have to tell me everything about your latest expedition. All of it. No skipping. Especially the dangerous parts."

I raised a brow. "Dangerous parts? What makes you think there were any?"

"Of course there will be danger in the Tower. Even a little kid knows that, you know."

"You're one of the little kids, aren't you?" I said, smiling.

"No, I'm a grown kid," he said, unwilling to back down.

I laughed. A real, full laugh. His enthusiasm was infectious. Hard to believe that beneath all that bright-eyed energy was a genius wizard in the making,

"Alright, alright. But only after I see this legendary Aqua Whip of yours in action."

"Deal!" he grinned, summoning a faint glow of blue energy around his fingertips. "Prepare to be amazed... and maybe just a little wet."

***

I had always been amazed by his progress.

Aqua Whip, which he once struggled to control, now moved fluidly as if it were an extension of his own body.

His other spells had improved as well. I watched as he conjured a Fireball and compressed it tightly, holding the swirling orb of flame on his palm before launching it with a controlled burst. The explosion, though smaller than normal, was denser. More focused.

"You've actually managed to condense the blast?" I asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yup! Took me four nights of nearly blowing up my roof, but I figured out how to shape the core!" Sam beamed. "Less area, more burn. Especially good for duels."

I gave a low whistle. "That's a trick even seasoned wizards struggle with. You're learning fast."

"Well, I am being taught by the infamous Eryndor the Annihilator, aren't I?" he teased, shooting me a toothy grin.

I laughed, shaking my head. "That nickname needs to die."

Unfortunately, despite his progress, Sam was still limited to basic spells. That was inevitable. Advanced spells were jealously guarded by the Wizard Academy. Learning them independently required mastering techniques and rituals that were only taught within its walls.

Even in the game, wizards had to physically visit the Academy to unlock advanced spells, no matter how many spellbooks they'd collected. The public libraries here were no better. Rarely did they carry anything beyond vague references to high-tier magic, and when they did, the contents were often useless.

"Hey, Sir Erynd," Sam said as we packed up our gear, "how come none of the libraries have anything about Ignis Tyrant or Stormwell Chain? You said they were standard advanced spells, right?"

"They are," I replied, looking him in the eye. "But they're locked behind Academy protocols. You won't find them in any book you can just pick up and read."

He frowned. "That's dumb. Magic should be free to everyone. What's the point of knowledge if you hoard it like treasure?"

"Power isn't just about what you know," I said softly. "It's about what you're ready to handle. The Academy's restrictions may be selfish... but they're also a shield."

"Still feels like a prison," he muttered.

I didn't argue. In many ways, he was right.

My knowledge from the game was of little use here. In the game, learning a spell was as simple as taking the spellbook to the Academy and acquiring it instantly. There was no explanation of the actual process. The best I could do for Sam was provide a list of advanced spells along with their detailed effects. But so far, I had only given him a small selection, careful not to arouse suspicion.

Our two-hour training session wrapped up as the sky began to turn gold. Normally, Sam and I would part ways at the gates of the Training Grounds, but today, I made a different call.

"Hey," I said, motioning for him to walk with me, "why don't I walk you home today?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He blinked, surprised. "Seriously? You sure you're not too busy?"

"After watching you nearly light your boots on fire? I think I've earned a stroll," I smirked. "Besides, it's a long trip. I hadn't realized how far you travel every time we meet."

Sam chuckled, falling into step beside me. "It's not so bad. Gives me time to think. Sometimes I even rehearse battle chants on the way."

"Like what?"

He puffed up his chest dramatically. "'O flames of retribution, heed my call and turn my foes to ash!'" He struck a pose, then snorted. "I know it's cheesy, but it helps me focus."

"You sound like a stage magician."

"I am a stage magician. Just wait till I learn illusion spells."

We talked at length as we moved through the city, our path leading steadily toward the Eastern District. The streets grew narrower, the cobblestones more uneven, and the scent of smoke and metal hung heavy in the air.

We passed a group of adventurers arguing outside a tavern.

"They're raising the quotas again?" one snapped. "We can't even fill the last one without losing half our squad!"

"They're bleeding us dry," another grumbled. "No one cares unless you're part of the noble guilds."

Sam tilted his head. "What's that about?"

"Probably about the new tax system," I murmured. "They've been pushing weaker adventurers into riskier zones. Some are starting to fight back."

"Think there's gonna be a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I said. "But rebellions don't always look like fire and swords. Sometimes they start with whispers. Mistrust."

"Kinda like those underground fight tournaments people keep talking about?"

I glanced sideways. "You've heard about those too, huh?"

He grinned. "I listen, Sir Erynd. Just like you taught me."

The last rumor we passed came from a pair of cloaked men sitting outside a butcher's stall.

"They say Xander the Crazed Butcher is at it again," one whispered. "He slaughtered a bunch of adventurers. Crazier than ever."

"You believe that lunatic's still alive?" the other scoffed.

I frowned. Xander the Crazed Butcher. That name had been surfacing more frequently. I had hoped it was just a recycled bogeyman tale. Apparently not.

As we reached the narrow alleyway, a sudden voice interrupted our conversation.

"Hey, you. Haven't seen you around here before. Spare me some stones, would ya?"

A ragged-looking middle-aged man blocked our path. The stench of alcohol wafted from his unwashed body, mixing with the sour odor of sweat. His tattered clothing barely clung to his frame, and his thick, unkempt beard made him look even more disheveled. A faded emblem was pinned to his chest, barely recognizable.

"Move aside, old man," I said coldly, my gaze sharp and unwavering. In this district, showing weakness was dangerous.

"H-Hi, Sir Luther. He's with me. He's just walking me home," Sam quickly explained.

"Tch, still need someone to walk you home? What are you, a kid?" the drunkard scoffed, though he slowly stepped aside.

"You're lucky to be with this good kid, City Boy. Don't forget to bring me some Mana Stones next time. Booze works too, ho ho ho," he chuckled before staggering away.

As we continued walking, Sam told me a bit about the man. Apparently, he was once a high-ranking figure in the Royal Palace. But due to a single mistake, he had been cast out and forced to live in the Eastern District. Like most of the people here, he had struggled to meet the kingdom's harsh quotas and faced severe penalties, leaving him to survive in destitution. Many had lost all hope, resigned to a miserable existence. Just like the man we had just encountered.

"We're here! Thank you for walking me home, Sir Erynd. I hope I wasn't a bother!" Sam said cheerfully.

I looked at his home, or rather, what could barely be called a home. A tiny shack stood before me, its walls riddled with holes large enough to see through. Inside, I could make out a single small bed and a worn-out wardrobe. There was no sign of a kitchen or a bathroom. My eyes drifted to a small pile of eating utensils left on the ground near the entrance.

The stark contrast to my current life was unsettling. Even compared to my life in the world before this one… perhaps it hadn't been so bad after all.

After escorting Sam home, I retraced my steps, weaving through the winding alleys of the Eastern District. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and unwashed bodies, a stark contrast to the bustling heart of the city. My hood remained drawn low over my face as I made my way through the usual haunts. Dimly lit pubs, shadowed corners, and the hidden pockets of the district where whispered rumors thrived.

As I passed a familiar alleyway, I spotted the old man from earlier sprawled against a crumbling wall, his bottle long emptied, his breaths slow and heavy. His once-proud emblem, now faded and torn, glinted faintly under the lantern light. For a brief moment, a pang of sympathy flickered in my chest. To fall from power to this… what had he done to deserve such a fate?

But I pushed the thought aside. Pity wouldn't serve me here.

***

Days passed quickly, and in a few days, the Tower would open once again. We were gathered at home, each of us eager to show off our preparations, the air buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

"Look at this! I won it at an auction!" Muradin boasted, holding up a small, semi transparent white orb between his thick fingers. His broad grin stretched across his bearded face, eyes gleaming with pride. "Unfortunately, I can't use it yet. There's no way I'm giving up my Shield Bash or Quickdraw."

Since the last exploration, we had become more open about our abilities—a necessity if we wanted to strategize effectively. Understanding each other's strengths and weaknesses could mean the difference between survival and failure inside the Tower.

"Erynd, do you know what this is?" Darwyn's voice cut in, drawing my attention. He lifted his wrist, displaying a finely crafted bracelet adorned with intricate runes. His excitement was palpable. Before I could even respond, he continued, "With this, I can increase my Sticky Bomb charges from seven to twelve! Imagine the damage I could deal!" He grinned, admiring his new equipment like a child with a new toy.

Wyrmstone Bracelet. I recognized it immediately. This item was a game-changer for certain skills. Normally, Sticky Bomb had seven charges that could be deployed without cooldown. Once depleted, the skill became unusable until at least one charge was replenished. A process that took agonizingly long in battle. This bracelet would give Darwyn nearly double the firepower before needing to wait.

Not wanting to be left out, Orin smirked and raised her hand. She concentrated for a moment, and suddenly, a potion materialized in her palm as if plucked from thin air. "Hehe, cool, right?" she beamed. "I spent a fortune on this storage. It's absorbed to my body. Now, I don't have to worry about my storage breaking again like last time."

"But you learned a new spell too, didn't you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Of course!" She flashed a mischievous grin, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Now, I can use offensive magic! Just imagine the devastation I'll bring!"

Darwyn chuckled and ruffled his younger sister Elena's hair. "Elena has also learned a few utility spells like Illumne, the same one I use, and Obscura. They'll be handy in the Tower."

Elena blushed deeply, lowering her gaze. "It's not that impressive..." she mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

The conversation soon turned lively, filled with laughter and friendly banter. As they talked, I took a moment to observe my team, reflecting on how much we had all grown.

Muradin, my first companion, stood out with his sturdy dwarf build. His large black eyes and prominent nose gave him a rugged yet friendly charm, setting him apart from most dwarves who often carried a stern disposition. His thick beard and slicked-back black hair framed his face, and while he was a little bit short as the typical dwarf, he had a stocky, well-muscled frame. His tanned skin was likely from years of standing near blazing forges, crafting weapons. His strength was undeniable, but what truly defined him was his unwavering loyalty. He was the heart of our group, the one who kept morale high with his humor yet would throw himself into danger without hesitation to protect us.

Darwyn, on the other hand, was the epitome of elven grace. Tall and athletic, his every movement was fluid and precise. His sharp, emerald-green eyes seemed to assess everything around him with a calculated gaze. With his high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and high-bridged nose, he was the kind of elf women probably swooned over. His long, pointed ears twitched slightly whenever he was deep in thought.

Despite his striking looks, he was far from the typical arrogant elf; his relaxed nature and occasional recklessness made him surprisingly easy to get along with. But when it came to battle, he was a force to be reckoned with. Deadly and efficient.

Elena shared many of her brother's features, though her presence was far quieter. Tall and slender like Darwyn, her delicate face mirrored his, but where he exuded confidence, she carried a timid, reserved air. Her shyness was evident in how she avoided prolonged eye contact, often tucking a stray strand of her light brown hair behind her ear.

However, beneath her quiet nature lay hidden talents. Cooking, appraising items, and an ability to recall even the most obscure information. She had grown more comfortable with us, especially with Orin, and the two had developed a bond over discussions that seemed exclusive to women.

Then there was Orin. Like me, she looked young by human standards, around her early twenties, with a small frame. Even for a druid, she was tiny, barely reaching my shoulder. But what she lacked in size, she made up for in energy. She was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, bouncing from one topic to the next with boundless excitement. Her big, round blue eyes and small button nose made her look even younger, but her wide, mischievous grin often gave away her true nature.

She was feisty, sometimes unpredictable, but undeniably attractive and adorable in her own way.

Wait, what the hell am I thinking?

I quickly shook the thought from my mind, only to hear Muradin's teasing voice. "Oi, why's your face all red? We haven't even started drinking yet!"

I coughed, grabbing my drink to hide my flustered expression. "Ahem. It's just... kinda warm in here."

Laughter erupted around the room, and I found myself smiling along with them. This was my team. My companions. And somehow, without realizing it, I had grown attached to them. A renewed sense of determination filled me. If I wanted to protect them, I had to get stronger.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, a shadow stretched across the floor. The time had come. One last meeting with Sam, before I stepped into the Tower of Ascension once more. I could feel it. The weight of the promise I had to keep… but would I be able to?

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