Hollow Crown: SSS-Ranked Godslayer’s Rise

Ethan's gaze lingered on Lirael's face, the way her eyes glimmered as she traced the curve of her new bow, fingertips brushing along the polished wood with reverence. A faint flush colored her cheeks—half awe, half pride.

"Admire it later," he said with a teasing smile. "Let's head to the guild. You'll need practice with that bow before the beast tide arrives."

Her fingers stilled. She looked up, the sparkle in her eyes dimming slightly. "So… we're really going to join the tide?"

"Of course," Ethan replied without hesitation, his voice calm but firm. "It's the best chance we'll get to temper ourselves. Nothing pushes growth like chaos."

She hesitated, her brows knitting. "It's not that I fear the fight… just—" her lips pressed into a thin line, "word about me must have spread already. Many saw me in that village. By now, someone must have fished out my trail. They'll come sooner or later."

Ethan let out a short laugh, the kind that was half incredulous, half dismissive. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "That's what you're worried about?" His eyes burned with a quiet intensity. "Lirael, you're mine now. No one touches a single strand of your hair. No one—except me. I have full rein." His grin turned mischievous at the end.

Her expression went flat, the kind of blank stare that told him she refused to indulge his antics. With a small exhale, she turned her head away, muttering something under her breath he didn't quite catch.

Chuckling to himself, Ethan adjusted the strap of his pack and motioned ahead. Together, they set off toward the adventurers' guild.

The streets buzzed with life as they walked—vendors calling out their wares, the clatter of hooves against cobblestones, the faint metallic tang of smithies at work drifting through the air. The late afternoon sun bathed the city in warm amber light, casting long shadows that swayed with the bustle of the crowd.

And amid the hum of the city, the weight of what was coming lingered silently between them.

As they weaved through the bustling street, Ethan suddenly froze mid-step, smacking his forehead with the heel of his palm.

"Ah—! Why didn't I think of this before?"

Lirael blinked at him, puzzled. "Think of what?"

"My storage ring!" he announced, grinning like he had discovered some grand secret.

Her eyes narrowed. "Storage ring? Ethan, those things are absurdly expensive. Even if we sold everything we owned, we couldn't afford the cheapest real one."

"That's the point," he said, eyes gleaming. "It doesn't have to be real."

She tilted her head, frowning. "What are you—wait… your subspace magic?"

"Exactly," Ethan said with a self-satisfied grin. "If I buy a fake ring, I can channel everything into my subspace and pretend it's stored in the ring. No one will question it, and I won't need to lug supplies around anymore. Two birds with one stone."

For a moment she considered it, then sighed in reluctant agreement. "...Fine. Let's buy one. But it has to look convincing."

They drifted toward a row of stalls, each displaying trinkets and baubles under the warm glow of lanterns. After some browsing, Ethan's eyes settled on a modest set of four rings—plain silver bands etched with faint, curling engravings. Something about their simplicity drew him in.

The vendor, noticing their interest, brightened instantly. He leaned over his stall with a salesman's grin. "Ah, you have good eyes! These aren't just ornaments. They're bond rings! Bring luck to the wearer—doubly so when worn by partners." His gaze flickered between Ethan and Lirael meaningfully.

Lirael stiffened, the color in her cheeks rising at the implication. "T-That's not—" she began, but her words faltered when Ethan didn't even acknowledge the vendor.

His eyes were locked instead on the faintly glowing screen only he could see.

---

[System Notification]

Name: Rings of Oathbound

Type: Artifact — Rank A (Unique)

Effects:

Wearer Connection: Sense the location of other ring-bearers.

Effects:

– Shared Vitality

– Mana regeneration speed +25% per bearer, stackable up to 4.

Eternal Pact: Prevents the wearers from harming each other; any attack that would reach another bearer is nullified.

Origin:

Forged in a legendary smithy, where dragonfire was once lent to fuel the forge. The flames grew wild, consuming even the workers within. Out of that tragedy, the mastersmith bound the dragon's wrath into the rings—creating artifacts of loyalty and bond. Only four remains.

---

Ethan's lips curved into a small smirk. He had expected a cheap trinket, not a treasure.

"How much?" he asked, cutting through the vendor's exaggerated pitch.

The man scratched the back of his head, suddenly sheepish. "Well, they're rare… I found them near a mine crawling with undead. Let's say… one gold coin?"

Lirael's eyes widened. "That's outrageous! For a set of worthless—"

But before she could finish, Ethan had already flicked a gold coin onto the stall and scooped the rings into his hand.

The vendor's eyes lit up like lanterns. He pocketed the coin so fast one might think it would vanish if he hesitated, then eagerly leaned forward. "Since you're such discerning customers, perhaps you'd like to see my other wares—"

"Eth—Master!!" Lirael hissed, tugging at his sleeve, her voice low but urgent. "You again—"

He silenced her with a hand over her mouth, his other arm sweeping around her waist as though she weighed no more than a bundle of cloth. With practiced ease, he hoisted her slightly off the ground, ignoring her muffled protests.

"She's a bit unruly," he told the vendor smoothly, flashing a wry grin. "Maid trouble. You understand."

Without giving the man a chance to respond, Ethan strode off into the crowd, carrying a flustered, red-faced Lirael as though she were a sack of grain. Her muffled complaints only made him chuckle under his breath.

Ethan dragged Lirael along by the waist, weaving through the crowd without a care in the world. Her face burned crimson, not just from the sudden closeness, but from the stares of passersby who clearly noticed. By the time he pulled her into a quiet, shaded corner between two market stalls, she was practically trembling with embarrassment.

The instant he let go, her fist shot forward, landing squarely against his stomach with all her strength.

"...Ouch," Ethan said flatly, not even flinching. His expression remained blank, as if she'd merely tapped him.

"You—!" she sputtered, her fists tightening.

"Like I said," he chuckled, leaning casually against the wall, "you really need to work on your strength. If you want to resist me, that is."

Her glare could've cut stone. He only laughed harder, which made her fume all the more. After a few heated breaths, she forced herself to calm down, though her cheeks still glowed pink.

"Fine," she said sharply. "Then tell me—why did you buy those rings? If it's for some stupid, sappy reason like 'partner rings,' then I swear, Ethan, I'll make you dump every stat point you've got into Strength and punt you straight to the moon."

He put on an exaggerated wounded expression. "Aww, don't be so cruel to your master. I just wanted us to match, that's all…"

Her glare sharpened, and he raised both hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright—don't burn me alive. Listen."

He explained the rings' functions carefully, the words spilling with just a hint of excitement.

As she listened, her lips parted, her earlier anger dissolving into sheer disbelief. "Mana regeneration… one hundred percent?" Her voice cracked. "Are you kidding me? Ethan, no one—no one—has ever been able to craft an artifact that boosts mana recovery like that. And you're telling me this… this random set of rings does it?"

"That's the catch," Ethan said, eyes gleaming. He held the bands up, their engraved surfaces catching the fading light. "It only works if all four are worn. Each ring stacks, twenty-five percent per bearer. Together, a full hundred. Instead of making one person absurdly broken, it spreads the burden. Clever design, right? Whoever made these wasn't just a smith—they were a genius."

Her brow furrowed, but her awe was clear. "A lost technology…? Or maybe something forgotten deliberately."

"Either way," Ethan said, slipping one of the rings onto his finger with a grin, "we'd be fools not to use them."

She blinked. "So… you're going to wear it now?"

"Me? Only me?" His grin widened mischievously. "No, no, Lirael. Us. That's the whole point."

Her lips parted again, caught between protest and realization, she understood his implication of them wearing it together.