NOVEL NEXT Chapter 86: Glimmers of Gold
The wide cobblestone street was thick with movement—merchants shouting, wheels creaking, animals neighing. Families bundled what they could carry and hurried toward wagons, fear plain on their faces.
Yet not all shared that fear. Amid the fleeing crowd, opportunistic merchants hawked their wares with louder voices than ever—selling arrows, armor, rations, and charms at prices inflated threefold. Some smiled like wolves fattening off desperation. Adventurers lingered near these stalls, some with arrogant smirks, boasting loudly of the glory they would earn in the tide. Others wore quiet, grim expressions, weapons already strapped and ready, determined to gamble their lives for a chance at riches or recognition.
The city lived in two halves—panic and profit, fear and bravado—clashing together in the same crowded streets.
For most adventurers, entering the city after such a trek was relief incarnate. For Veyron, it was nothing but an afterthought.
Behind him, the man carrying the injured servant staggered, nearly collapsing beneath the weight. His breath came out in sharp gasps as he finally spoke, voice tight with hesitation.
"L–Lord… we need to tend to his wounds… if we don't, they'll… they'll fester."
Veyron halted, turning just enough to fix the man with a cold, sharp gaze. The weight of it made the servant's knees nearly buckle. For a moment, silence pressed heavily, broken only by the distant call of a street vendor.
Then Veyron clicked his tongue. "Tsk." He pulled out a small pouch from his ring and tossed it without ceremony. The clink of coins rang out as the servant fumbled to catch it.
"There," Veyron said flatly, pointing toward a tall, whitewashed building with carved stone balconies and red velvet banners—the sign of a luxury inn. "Get him treated. Then return there before evening. We begin the search once the sun sets."
The servant bowed hurriedly, clutching the pouch to his chest as though it were salvation. With the injured man on his back and another helping to guide, they vanished quickly into the throng of people, eager to escape their master's gaze.
Veyron turned his head back toward the inn. The carved wooden doors loomed before him, and the smell of roasted meat and fine wine drifted faintly from inside. His body cried out for rest—his shoulders ached, his legs throbbed with fatigue, and a faint ringing echoed in his ears from mana overuse. But his pride stood taller than the ache in his bones. He adjusted his coat, straightened his back, and strode into the inn with the same arrogant confidence he always wore.
To the outside eye, he was unshaken. Unbreakable. Untouchable.
---
Not too far from there, in a quieter street lined with workshops and weapon forges, another scene played out.
Ethan and Lirael stepped out of a weapon shop, sunlight glinting brilliantly off the object in her hands. It was a bow—long, elegant, its wood polished to a deep golden sheen that seemed to capture light rather than reflect it. Faint inscriptions ran along the limbs, almost invisible unless caught at the right angle, as if the bow itself whispered secrets of mana flow. The grip was leather-wrapped, supple yet firm, molded to fit a hand as naturally as skin to bone.
It wasn't just beautiful. It was sturdy. Balanced. Alive.
Ethan could feel the faint hum of mana pulsing through it when Lirael ran her fingers along the curve. The shopkeeper had sworn it could endure the strain of a peak B-ranked archer's full draw. Even now, it felt as though it was made to match Lirael specifically.
In her hands, it did not look like a weapon purchased—it looked like an extension of her soul. The golden hue matched the choker around her neck so perfectly that it seemed deliberate, a set crafted not as a collar of servitude, but as a crown of power. Her earrings caught the light in the same shade, and even the brass buttons of her maid attire shimmered faintly against it. For the first time, Ethan thought, she didn't look like a servant carrying tools. She looked like a warrior born.
Her eyes sparkled as she studied the bow, almost childlike in wonder. The price had been steep—eight gold coins, nearly half of what they had earned—but Ethan found himself strangely satisfied watching her like this.
"You always nag me about wasting money on luxuries," Ethan said suddenly, breaking the silence. He tilted his head and raised a brow, mock exasperation in his tone. "And now look at you."
Lirael froze, cheeks faintly coloring as she turned her head toward him. "A weapon is not a luxury," she retorted, her voice sharper than usual. She held the bow against her chest as though daring him to argue. "A weapon is part of oneself. It must fit body, mind, and spirit in perfect harmony. This one… resonates with me."
Ethan chuckled, crossing his arms. "Resonates, huh? Sounds like a fancy excuse for wanting shiny things." His eyes flicked up and down at her outfit, smirking. "Yes, yes… Mrs. Goldie."
Lirael blinked. "Mrs… what?"
He pointed lazily. "Gold buttons, golden choker, golden earrings, and now a golden bow. You're practically glowing. I can barely look at you without squinting."
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but the faint pink dusting her cheeks betrayed her. She gave a sharp huff, turning her head aside. "You're insufferable."
Ethan grinned, watching her shoulders tighten and then relax again as she hugged the bow closer. The little moment of pride, the little hint of embarrassment—it was priceless.
For him, that bow wasn't just a weapon. It was proof. Proof that she wasn't chained. That every piece of gold she wore wasn't a mark of servitude but a choice, a reflection of her strength and his promise.
And as the sunlight bathed them both in warm gold, Ethan thought to himself, yeah… worth every coin.
The bow glimmered faintly as Lirael traced her fingers across its polished surface, the inscriptions glowing for a heartbeat as though answering her touch. Ethan's vision shifted as the system window unfolded before his eyes.
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[System Item Appraisal]
Name: Sunpiercer
Type: Longbow
Grade: Rare
Craftsmanship: Forged by veteran bowyer Calreth Ironleaf. Balanced, resilient, and carefully tuned to endure the strain of advanced mana archery.
Effects:
Increases piercing power of arrows.
Shots travel farther with enhanced precision.
Optimized to scale with user's physical and mana growth.
---
Hm. Not bad at all, Ethan thought, eyeing the subtle glow that matched her golden choker. This one should carry her for quite a while.
As he dismissed the window, another prompt appeared—one that made his brows furrow.
---
[System Notification]
Your servant Lirael Vaerune is approaching Class Awakening.
It is advised to release the full potential of her bloodline before attempting her Class Assignment Quest.
Quest parameters will be determined and managed by the system.
Recommendation: Bloodline Awakening Potion.
Cost: 50,000 SP.
---
Ethan exhaled slowly through his nose, his thoughts darkening. Bloodline awakening, huh… His gaze flickered toward Lirael, who was still marveling at the bow, unaware of the system's whisper.
I have fifty thousand, five hundred sixty SP. Barely enough. He clenched his fist slightly. That would leave me with nothing for insurance. No safety net if things go wrong in a real fight.
His eyes lowered, the weight of the choice pressing on him. She's not at level ten yet. There's still time… but not much. I'll need to prepare before she reaches the threshold.
The chatter of merchants and adventurers filled the air around them, but his mind was already running ahead. Subjugation quests at the guild… that should buy us the points we need.