NOVEL NEXT Chapter 86: Bad News
The noise of the cafeteria had dulled into a low, steady roar. A background hum of voices, laughter, and the clinking of metal trays.
But at Wade's table, silence had descended.
Sebastian finished the last of his drink and set the mug down with a quiet thunk.
His expression was calm, but there was something new behind his eyes. That kind of look that said he was perfectly aware that a storm was coming.
He exhaled softly and stood, his chair scraping faintly against the floor.
"Eat well," he said simply. "You'll need your strength."
Rowan gave him a half-hearted salute, his usual grin dimmed but not gone. "See you tomorrow, boss."
Sebastian nodded, his gaze flicking briefly over each of them.
For a moment, Wade thought he might say something else. Maybe some reassurance, perhaps, or instruction, but instead, he turned and walked away, leaving his tray behind.
Wade watched him go, the sound of the captain's heavy boots slowly fading into the din.
Across from him, Ingrid set her spoon down, pushing her tray slightly away.
There was still food on it, but her appetite was already gone.
She glanced briefly toward Wade, her expression blank, then stood in that brisk, efficient way that defined her every motion.
"I'll be heading out," she said.
Rowan nodded. "Where to?"
"The training hall," she replied. "If a horde is really coming, I'm not waiting for the first blow to start preparing."
He didn't argue.
She gave them a small nod, then turned and left, her bow slung neatly over her shoulder, her long braid swinging behind her as she disappeared into the crowd.
And just like that, Wade was left sitting with Rowan, two trays cooling in front of them, the two men lost in their own thoughts.
For a while, neither spoke.
The noise of the cafeteria filled the silence between them.
All they could hear were the bursts of laughter or the scrape of chairs.
'All these people,' Wade thought, 'blissfully unaware of what was about to unfold.'
Rowan broke the silence first.
"Doesn't seem like the news has spread yet," he said, voice low.
Wade glanced at him. "You think they'll make a public announcement?"
"Eventually," Rowan said, leaning back in his chair, eyes scanning the crowd. "But not now. Guilds like to keep a lid on panic."
"It'll be up to the captains of each party to take care of that. Sebastian trusted us to keep things quiet, so that means no telling everybody."
Wade followed his gaze across the cafeteria. Adventurers filled nearly every table, some boasting about recent kills, some laughing over drinks, others polishing their weapons or flirting with the servers.
It looked normal. Ordinary.
But Wade knew, as Rowan did, that in a few days, maybe less, this place wouldn't look the same.
Rowan's smile faded as he looked back at Wade.
"You see them all?" he said quietly. "All these faces?"
Wade nodded slowly.
"When this horde's over," Rowan said, his tone flat, "most of them'll be dead."
Wade froze.
Rowan looked down at his tray, turning his spoon absently.
"That's how it always is. Tyrant wars don't leave room for everyone. The strong survive. The lucky ones crawl back with scars."
"And the rest…" He shrugged. "They end up as statistics on a clerk's document."
Wade didn't reply.
There was nothing to say. He wasn't that naive.
He'd seen death, smelled it, lived in its shadow since he'd become an adventurer.
But hearing Rowan speak so plainly about it, in the middle of this noisy, crowded hall, made something twist in his gut.
After a while, Rowan pushed his tray away and stood, stretching. His grin returned, but it didn't reach his eyes this time.
"Well," he said, forcing lightness into his voice, "no point brooding. I'll be around. Got some errands to run before the guild starts locking down."
Wade nodded again, still staring at his food. "See you later."
Rowan clapped him on the shoulder, then turned and disappeared into the throng.
Wade sat alone now, his thoughts churning.
The noise around him blurred into background static, meaningless chatter while his mind clicked through the pieces like a puzzle.
A Tyrant horde meant chaos. Panic. But more importantly, opportunity.
War always stirred the economy in strange ways.
When fear spread, so did spending.
Guilds would start buying and hoarding skill stones, and stockpiling gear.
Prices would rise, not just on essentials like healing potions or rations, but on weapons, armor, and unique skills. The kind of rare abilities adventurers would kill to have before marching into a slaughter.
And Wade?
He happened to have a few of those.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly.
Every profitable deal and clever transaction he made only pushed him closer to unlocking another dungeon key.
A new world, all for him to explore. Another treasure trove.
And now, with this war getting closer, there was no better time to make himself useful, and rich.
He'd sell his rarer skills now that the timing was perfect. Now that desperation would make men generous.
The Bone Wings skill alone could double in value when the news became commonplace. But before that, he needed more stock.
His fingers tapped the table rhythmically as he thought.
If he went now, he could clear another dungeon by dawn. That was twenty-four hours, plenty of time.
But he wasn't about to go in unprepared.
He'd learned his lesson fighting the golem and the dragons.
There were monsters whose hides couldn't be cut. Creatures too tough for blades to bite.
That meant he needed something heavier.
He replayed the fights in his mind. The bone dragons, the golems, even the hydra.
His sword had shattered against that golem's arm. A weapon with more raw impact would've made all the difference.
Still, he couldn't afford to lose versatility. A hammer or mace would give him brute power, but no finesse. A sword gave him that finesse but lacked crushing force.
And that left only one real choice.