Reborn As An SSS-Ranked Assassin Armed With Modern Weapons

"Finally," Jessie muttered, stretching her arms. Her voice was weaker than usual, but her eyes had regained focus. "If I ever see another grain of sand again, I'll burn it."

Ash smirked faintly. "And make glass, then sell it for profit."

"Should I laugh?" Jessie asked in a straight tone.

"Ofcourse, if you don't want to end up between my legs" Ash said and instantly realised how it came out.

Jessie ignored his comment but her face had changed to crimson from sillyness.

The environment itself pulsed faintly with mana.

"Feels different," Jessie said, rubbing her forearm. "Almost... alive."

They climbed a narrow path, and the world opened up.

A village was carved into the cliff like a cluster of bird nests. Steps made from rock, rope bridges, and little gardens hung on platforms.

Lanterns hung overhead — not iron, but crystals that drank moonlight and gave it back as soft teal light.

Everything felt deliberate. Birds hopped between branches, their feathers reflecting different colors under the light.

Ash relaxed a little. This place didn't try to charm him, didn't press on him — it simply existed, unlike the Oasis.

Jessie stopped near a railing, eyes wide in surprise. "They ain't human," she said.

"Is it surprising? You know what would've been surprising," Ash replied, "seeing a real human settlement."

He didn't drop his guard, but the tension inside him eased. According to his knowledge, this race was the most cordial during the last trial. They weren't exactly warm to humans, but they were straightforward — ready for business deals.

Two figures came up from below. Broad-shouldered — their skin resembled river rock: smooth and resilient, with faint veins of glowing minerals that shifted color according to nearby mana activity.

Towering over seven feet, their eyes were reflective and gem-like. Their hair resembled woven metal threads or mineral-fiber braids.

They were humanoids made from solid rock. Their appearance might give a sense of brutality, but they were among the most intelligent races humans had ever encountered.

Cold, stoic, and brutally logical — these three traits were enough to describe them.

The older one stepped forward without any formal greeting. His voice was low and rough, like a machine.

"You cross Whelven Pass. Name yourselves."

Ash kept his face blank. "Ash. This is Jessie."

The elder looked them over — his eyes paused on the emerald clothing Jessie wore, then on Ash's scorched armor.

"You moved through barren land," he said.

'Another name,' Ash laughed inwardly. It was interesting how the same place had different names depending on the region.

Jessie nodded. "You are Whelven?"

A murmur moved through the small gathering beneath.

The elder's companion nodded. "Whelven. Stone and river, we bind runes." His eyes scanned the duo's condition.

Ash answered shortly. "Traveling. Took shelter in an oasis. Things happened."

The elder's face darkened a little when Ash mentioned the oasis, but he said nothing further.

"You survived the Devourer?" There was a question — one that seemed most important to the elder, as if the answer would decide whether they could continue the conversation.

"Yes," Ash said through gritted teeth.

"Come, eat and rest. Nothing is free here... so be ready to pay," the elder said, inviting them in.

They sat on broad platforms while the village moved around them. The food was simple: roasted leaves that glowed faintly, slices of Dragon fruit like fruit dripping with silver nectar, and a bowl of grain steaming green.

"Not sure what your race likes," the elder added.

"How about you tell us about your race? I've never seen anyone like you," the Whelven elder asked, curious about the duo's background.

"We are humans — slightly intelligent creatures," Ash replied dryly. "Everyone has different traits... some could be simple and straightforward, and some could be happy people who don't ask for much."

He kept it short; there were many things he could've said about humans, but that would've created the wrong impression — something that could impact their position.

Surprisingly, most of the Whelven had no varied personalities — just simple, straightforward, and stoic.

The Whelven watched without pressing further. They spoke in small circles, their talk low and focused.

Children chased along the walkways, their speech attempting to sound logical, though they failed miserably.

Later, a Whelven came over carrying a slate with shallow runes. Her hands were stained bronze.

"Your armor has protection," she said, looking at Jessie's armor with curious eyes.

Jessie looked down, noticing strange runes carved into her armor. She had no idea what they meant, but since the Whelven were masters of runes, they must already have some understanding.

Ash felt a stir in his gut. We're not here to study, he reminded himself inwardly.

"We need shelter and water. We'll pay."

The elder smiled. "Everything has a price. Sometimes it's cores. Sometimes work. Sometimes... a story."

Jessie, finishing a spoonful of stew, placed some D-rank cores on the table.

A smile bloomed on the faces of the Whelven around them.

Ash and Jessie got a dome of stone, runes carved on its surface. If he looked around, almost everything had a rune on it.

There was a rotating fan with a Flow rune carved on its blades, and a pillar of stacked stones held together by a large Form rune — perfectly balanced despite its impossible structure.

Everything was a mind-blowing display of rune usage — something Ash had always wanted to learn. He stepped inside, looking at the glyph seed in his hands.

He couldn't recognize many runes, so he wanted to master all eight fundamental rune types as soon as possible. Only then could he learn to use advanced ones.

For some reason, the Whelven followed Jessie like hawks, fascinated by the runes carved on her armor.

Jessie didn't mind the company of a local. In exchange, the Whelven got to study the runes etched into her B-rank armor.

"What's your name?" Ash asked, curious to know what kind of names this race had.

The Whelven stopped, looking at Ash with mild annoyance. Then, realizing her subject was a friend of this fragile-looking human, she replied,

"390."

Ash looked at her river-like stone face with confusion.

"390?"

"It's my name. 390."

Ash controlled his laughter — and then it made sense. Stoic and logical. Why would they waste time naming everyone with strange names?

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Hey sorry for the late updates, I was just unwell and don't know. It's festival here and I am barely getting any time to write.