SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The return to the outpost was too quiet for what they had just been through. The moment Trafalgar, Garrika, and Sylven stepped out of the treeline, the noise of the hunting camp washed over them again: clattering armor, traders shouting, mana lamps flickering against the haze of smoke. It almost felt unreal after the chaos they'd just left behind.

The same clerk from before sat behind the counter, half-asleep with a cigar between his fingers. He looked up lazily at first, but when he noticed their expressions — the blood, the burns, the exhaustion — his posture straightened fast.

"You three look like hell," he muttered, stubbing out the cigar. "What happened out there?"

Trafalgar stepped forward, still catching his breath. "A Rift opened near the outer perimeter. We closed it."

The man blinked, clearly thinking he misheard. "You… closed it? You mean contained, right?"

Garrika shook her head, her tone flat. "No. Closed. It's gone."

That woke him up completely. He stood, scribbling furiously onto a glowing ledger. "Shit. Alright, I'll send recovery squads to the site — we'll need to collect the remains of the missing parties, their stuff, and gear. Families will want what's left."

Sylven leaned lightly against the counter, his calm voice cutting through the tension. "Make sure they go prepared. Some of the corpses might still be dangerous."

The clerk gave a slow nod, glancing between them. "You three did good work. Damn good. You probably saved the rest of the hunters out there."

The clerk's quill paused midair. "Names," he said briskly. "For the report."

"Garrika," she replied first, rolling her shoulders tiredly.

"Sylven," the elf followed, voice calm.

The clerk scribbled both names quickly, then frowned as his gaze shifted to the third figure. "Garrika, Sylven… I know you two. But the third one—" his eyes narrowed, studying Trafalgar. "—I've never seen you before. Who are you?"

Trafalgar met his stare without hesitation. "Trafalgar du Morgain."

The quill froze. The man's face went pale. "Shit— shit shit shit." He stumbled over his words, suddenly standing upright. "Lord Morgain?! You're —you're alright? Nothing broken? Do you need a healer, supplies—anything?" His voice cracked between panic and disbelief.

Trafalgar blinked once, tone steady. "I'm fine. Just… keep quiet that I was ever here."

The clerk's mouth opened, then closed. He nodded furiously, sweat already forming on his temple. "O-of course, sir. Not a word. This conversation never happened."

As they stepped out, Sylven glanced sideways at Trafalgar, curiosity flickering behind his calm eyes. "You could've used an alias, you know? But why hide it?"

'Seriously, I could have done that? Damn, they could have at least warned me, how they both used their names. I thought that was mandatory too. Tch.'

Trafalgar exhaled through his nose. "If my family—or worse, their enemies—hear I'm wandering hunting grounds like this, I'd never be able to come back. And we still have materials to collect. We'll need to return."

Sylven gave a slight nod, understanding more than he said.

Garrika stretched, her tail swishing lazily. "Then enough talk. Let's go see Grandma. She's probably already cooking something good."

Trafalgar's mouth twitched into a faint smile. 'Yeah… food sounds good right now, I need a lil' break and my body needs to recover if I want to come back for more.'

Two weeks passed in a quiet rhythm.

Morning classes at the academy, long evenings spent training under Bartholomew's sharp guidance to catch up on lost time. Between lessons, he still found time for sparring matches with Xavier — who, despite his strength, could never quite read Trafalgar's unpredictable rhythm.

When he wasn't training, he was either with Zafira, or back at Verdant Hollow alongside Garrika and Sylven, finishing the collection tasks they'd started.

Those hunting trips had paid off. [Severing Fang] had leveled up, its edge now cutting cleaner and faster — +10% damage increase according to the system. It wasn't much, but Trafalgar could feel the difference in every swing.

And, of course, there were the evenings.

Mayla.

Right now, they sat together in Trafalgar's local. Garrika was leaning against the counter with her usual lazy grin, Mayla seated next to Trafalgar, her hand loosely around a cup of tea.

"So," Mayla said, resting her chin on her palm. "You two finally got all the materials, right?"

Garrika's tail flicked lazily, her grin widening. "That's right. Took longer than expected, but we've got everything."

Trafalgar exhaled through his nose. "Longer because someone wanted to pick fights with every monster that looked at us funny."

Garrika laughed. "Oh, come on, don't act like you didn't enjoy it. You got stronger, didn't you?"

"Fair point." He simply said.

Mayla watched them with a soft smile, her tone calm and even. "I'm just glad you both came back in one piece. Verdant Hollow sounded worse than usual this time."

Trafalgar nodded, setting his fork down. "Yeah… it was bad. We ran into a Rift there."

Garrika's ears twitched slightly, but she didn't interrupt.

"Anyway," Trafalgar continued, leaning back in his chair, "Arthur should be arriving soon."

Garrika tilted her head. "Arthur?"

"A soldier under my command," Trafalgar explained. "I left him in charge of Euclid after… Mordrek's death. He's the one managing the city's reconstruction and reports directly to me."

Mayla glanced at him, interested. "And he's coming here?"

Trafalgar nodded once. "Yeah. Said he'd finished the final repair checks. I wanted to hear it from him directly — not through items or letters."

Garrika smiled faintly. "So, the city's holding up?"

"More or less," Trafalgar replied, swirling the drink in his glass. "But we'll see what Arthur has to say. I need to grow that city."

The doorbell chimed softly.

Trafalgar looked up from his seat as the door opened. Arthur stepped inside, the afternoon light catching on the edge of his worn cloak. Broad-shouldered, with short blond hair already graying at the sides, and sharp brown eyes that spoke of discipline and fatigue in equal measure — the kind of man shaped by years of service, not comfort.

"Lord Trafalgar," Arthur said formally, offering a brief bow. "It's good to see you again, sir."

Trafalgar rose to his feet, face composed. "Likewise, Arthur. You're right on time."

Garrika noticed the air between them immediately and straightened. "I'll give you both some space." She gestured for Mayla. "Come on — let's see how the stew's coming along."

Mayla gave Trafalgar a reassuring glance and followed her out. Once the door shut, silence settled.

Arthur took the seat across from him. "As agreed, I'm here to deliver the first-of-the-month report on Euclid."

Trafalgar folded his arms, his expression calm but serious. "Go ahead."

Arthur retrieved a folder from his satchel and opened it neatly. "The repairs are finished, they are complete, we have received help from your father Lord Valttair du Morgain. We've finished rebuilding two hundred and thirty-seven homes, and every displaced family now has permanent housing. As per your decree, no taxes will be collected for another two months. It's done wonders for morale — people are starting to trust the administration again."

Trafalgar nodded once, his gaze sharpening. "And the defenses? I don't want what happened to my uncle Mordrek repeating itself. We don't have anyone in Euclid strong enough to face a dragon."

Arthur's expression turned grave. "The outer wall has been reinforced with mythril plating. It's the strongest we can afford without draining the treasury. Honestly, my lord, the odds of another dragon attack are almost nonexistent. Your father personally slew the Gluttony Dragon during the last assault — you were there, if I recall correctly."

Trafalgar's eyes narrowed slightly, memories flashing behind them. "Yeah. I remember." He exhaled quietly, tapping a finger against the table. "Still, I want us ready for the worst. Keep training your Tenth Squadron. And I want you to start recruiting more men — as many as you can find. If anyone wants to join, accept them. We need numbers."

Arthur straightened immediately. "Understood, my lord."

"And if it gets too much for you alone," Trafalgar added, "choose someone you trust to help lead — but run it by me first. Your recommendation will carry weight. If that person fails… it's your responsibility. You'll answer for it."

Arthur met his gaze squarely. "That's fair, my lord. I'll choose carefully."

A faint silence followed, the kind that comes from mutual understanding rather than discomfort. Trafalgar's posture eased slightly, though his tone remained calm and firm. "Good. Keep Euclid strong. I'm counting on you."

Arthur inclined his head deeply. "You have my word."

As the older man spoke, Trafalgar's thoughts flickered briefly.

'Sixteen, and giving orders to men twice my age. Mordrek would've laughed… or maybe been proud. Doesn't matter — this isn't about pride. It's survival.'

Trafalgar leaned back slightly, resting an arm over the chair. "There's another matter. I want to begin new construction projects in Euclid — proper apartment complexes, like the ones here in Velkaris. Reinforced walls, mana-lined insulation, efficient layouts. People need a reason to stay, not just roofs over their heads."

Arthur blinked, processing it. "That's… bold, my lord. But investors might be hesitant. Euclid was closed for months after Lord Mordrek's death — people still whisper about what happened. Since the family never made a public statement, the rumors only spread faster. Many think the city was sealed off because something worse happened."

Trafalgar's expression didn't change. "That was the point. The closure was to keep Mordrek's death private — to stop panic from spreading across the border. But now enough time's passed. The rumors are out anyway, and I don't care to confirm or deny them." He leaned forward, tone steady. "The city's open again, and it's time people see progress."

Arthur nodded, his voice thoughtful. "You're right, my lord. Rebuilding visibly will help bury the old talk. But it'll take time before outsiders trust that Euclid's safe again."

"I already have someone interested," Trafalgar said. "A vampire from the real estate sector — competent, well-connected. She'll get construction priority once we lift the development ban. In exchange, she's bringing in investors and manpower."

Arthur's brows rose slightly. "Then it's a smart move. If you can build faster than the rumors spread, people will return."

Trafalgar gave a quiet nod. "That's the plan."

He shifted the topic smoothly. "And the library? Vincent's project."

Arthur's tone softened, genuine pride flickering in his eyes. "It's finished, my lord. The place thrives. Dozens of children visit daily to read, study, or listen to Vincent's lectures. It's become the heart of the new district. You made a good call doing it."

"Glad to hear it," Trafalgar said. "When I have time, I'll stop by myself. Make sure Mordrek's mansion stays in perfect shape — it's a symbol, and symbols matter."

Arthur rose from his seat, bowing respectfully. "As you command, my lord. Everything will remain as you left it."

"Good," Trafalgar said quietly. "You've done well, Arthur. You can go — rest before heading back."

Arthur clasped a hand to his chest. "Yes, my lord."

As the door closed behind him, Trafalgar's gaze lingered on the fading light through the window.

'Not bad Trafalgar du Morgain, not bad at all,' he thought. 'Everything's going well. They've forced me to keep Euclid under my control without a word, and I'm taking advantage of it to get rich, which will also serve as a defense. It's better to do all this than not take advantage of it.'

The door creaked softly behind him. Trafalgar turned his head just as Mayla and Garrika stepped in.

"Done talking?" Mayla asked, her tone gentle but curious.

Trafalgar nodded, pushing the chair back. "Yeah. All handled. Though… it's getting late. I should probably head back to the academy."

Mayla smiled faintly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "You never stop working, do you?"

He gave a quiet hum, halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Wouldn't be me if I did."

That morning, Trafalgar wanted to check if there was any message, and indeed, the Shadowlink Echo, when he summoned it, had something recorded to listen to.

'Who knows what happened? Caelum only talks to me now when something important happens...,' he thought, narrowing his eyes.

Mayla noticed his expression shift. "Something wrong?"

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. "Not sure yet."

For a brief moment, he looked at her — the warmth in her eyes, the quiet comfort of the room. A faint pang settled in his chest.

'Although I'd like to spend more time with you, Mayla… something's not right. I have to hear Caelum's message.'