NOVEL NEXT Chapter 71: Capital
The cool, damp air of the hideout still clung to me, but a new kind of energy pulsed beneath my skin. My body, now an Apprentice-level Sword Knight, felt sharper, more responsive. The D-tier techniques were ingrained, ready to be called upon with a thought. My training with Herald had been brutal, effective, and utterly transformative.
I flickered my hand, and the Narrative Override Engine materialized before me, its familiar blue light cutting through the dimness of the underground chamber. My eyes scanned the numbers.
[OVERRIDE POINTS]: 15
Fifteen. Not the 150 I needed for Narrative Redaction, but a significant recovery. It meant my ascension, my breakthrough to the Apprentice realm, had been a major story alteration, a significant deviation from the original narrative. The system had rewarded me.
I quickly checked the other stats.
[REALITY DIVERGENCE]: 15.5%
[GLITCH COEFFICIENT]: 16%
The numbers had indeed climbed. Reality Divergence had increased by 0.5%, and Glitch by 0.2%. My ascension, a personal triumph, had come at a cost to the narrative's stability. It was a constant reminder that every action I took, every power I gained, had consequences for the world around me. The system was reacting, adapting, and perhaps, struggling.
Then, my gaze fell on two new lines, previously absent from my stat screen.
[REALM]: Apprentice
[JOB]: Sword Knight
A small, grim satisfaction settled in my chest. The system had officially recognized my new status. I was no longer just an 'Extra' or a 'Background Character' with hidden abilities. I had a Realm, a measure of my power, and a Job, a recognized role in this world. Apprentice. Sword Knight. It was a tangible mark of my progress, a validation of Herald's brutal training. It meant I was truly on the path, whether I liked it or not.
I closed the system, the blue light vanishing. My new reality, once a terrifying unknown, was slowly solidifying. I was a Sword Knight. An Apprentice. And I was Herald's disciple.
The journey back to Elyndor was different from the hurried, secretive trip to Megmura. We still traveled mostly at night, moving through the shadows, avoiding main roads and populated areas. But this time, Mudrel and Bella were with us.
Mudrel, despite his gruff exterior, was a surprisingly good companion. He shared stories of his time in the Republican Movement, his battles against the Ostinan aristocracy, his grim observations of the cult's infiltration. He spoke of the injustices, the suffering of the common folk, the desperate fight for freedom. His words painted a vivid, often brutal, picture of the political landscape of Ostina, a reality far more complex than the simplified narrative of Hero's Vow.
Bella, the cat beast-kin, initially shy and timid, slowly began to open up. She would often walk beside me, her soft fur brushing against my leg. Sometimes, she would even venture out to chase after small insects or rustling leaves, her beast instincts kicking in, a brief moment of childlike playfulness in the grim reality of our journey. I would offer her small pieces of dried meat, and she would purr, a soft, rumbling sound that was a welcome change from the constant tension. Her presence was a small, comforting balm, a reminder of the innocent lives caught in this grand, terrifying conflict.
Herald remained Herald. Mostly silent, always vigilant. He would occasionally offer terse commands, or point out subtle shifts in the mana environment, forcing me to hone my senses. He continued my training even on the road, making me practice my D-tier techniques against imaginary opponents, or forcing me to maintain my Mana Sheath for extended periods, even while walking. His expectations were absolute, his demands relentless.
As we moved away from Megmura, the landscape gradually shifted. The dry, barren scrubland gave way to rolling hills and then, finally, to the familiar, lush forests of central Ostina. The air grew cleaner, the scent of pine and damp earth replacing the stench of squalor. The signs of civilization became more frequent – small villages, then larger towns, and finally, the distant glow of Elyndor, the capital, on the horizon.
The capital, Elyndor, was a sprawling city, far grander and more imposing than I remembered from my brief visit with Luminous. Its high walls, gleaming under the morning sun, spoke of power and defense. The air hummed with a different kind of energy here, a blend of commerce, ambition, and a subtle undercurrent of mana.
We entered the city through a less-used gate, blending in with the stream of commoners and merchants. Herald's cloak was pulled tight, his hood obscuring his face. Mudrel, too, kept a low profile, his face grim. Bella, sensing the change in environment, clung tightly to Mudrel's leg, her eyes wide.
The streets of Elyndor were a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds. Carriages rumbled over cobblestones, merchants hawked their wares, and the chatter of a thousand voices filled the air. The smell of roasted meats, fresh bread, and exotic spices mingled with the less pleasant odors of a bustling city. People of all walks of life filled the streets: commoners in simple tunics, merchants in fine silks, guards in polished armor, and even a few robed figures, clearly mages, moving with an air of quiet authority.
Herald led us through a labyrinth of narrow streets and crowded alleys, avoiding the grander avenues. He moved with an effortless grace, his dark cloak blending into the shadows. I followed, my senses alert, my body tense. My Apprentice-level mana sense picked up subtle fluctuations in the ambient mana, the faint hum of magic from shops, the stronger presence of mana from passing mages. It was a constant, overwhelming input, but my training allowed me to process it, to filter out the noise.
Our destination was not a grand inn, but a nondescript establishment tucked away in a less reputable part of the city. It was a two-story building, its wooden exterior weathered and stained, its windows dim. A crudely painted sign, depicting a foaming tankard, hung above the door. "The Drunken Griffin," it proclaimed. A bar.
Herald pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a wave of noise and warmth washed over me. The air inside was thick with the smell of stale ale, pipe smoke, and fried food. The low hum of conversation, punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter, filled the space. It was a typical fantasy bar, just like in the novels.
The interior was dimly lit by flickering oil lamps and a roaring fireplace. Rough wooden tables and benches were scattered across the sawdust-covered floor. A long, scarred wooden bar stretched along one wall, behind which a burly, bearded bartender wiped glasses with a practiced ease.
The patrons were a motley crew. Common laborers, their faces tired, their clothes stained. A few rough-looking adventurers, their armor scuffed, their swords sheathed at their hips, their conversations loud and boastful. A lone, cloaked figure sat in a dark corner, seemingly observing everyone. Even a few low-level mages, identifiable by their simple robes and the faint mana aura around them, sat huddled over drinks, their voices low.
Herald walked directly to a secluded table in the back, near the fireplace. Mudrel followed, Bella clinging to his leg, her eyes wide with curiosity and a touch of fear. I took a seat beside them, my back to the wall, allowing me to observe the entire room.
"Order what you need," Herald stated, his voice flat, as he settled onto the bench. "We will rest here for the night. And tomorrow, your training for the commoner's exam begins."
Mudrel ordered a tankard of ale and a plate of roasted meat for himself and Bella. I, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration, ordered a simple meal of stew and bread, and a glass of water. The food, though simple, was warm and hearty, a welcome change from the bland rations of the hideout.
As I ate, I observed the other patrons. Two adventurers at a nearby table were loudly recounting a monster hunt, their voices filled with exaggerated bravado. "And then, the Ogre, it was massive, I tell you! Its club was like a tree trunk! But I, Sir Reginald, with my trusty blade, struck it down!" The other adventurer, a smaller, more cynical man, rolled his eyes, but offered a polite chuckle. It was a classic scene, straight out of a fantasy novel.
A group of merchants huddled in another corner, their voices low, discussing trade routes and fluctuating prices. Their concerns were mundane, yet vital to the city's lifeblood. It was a reminder that this world, for all its magic and monsters, still ran on the practicalities of commerce and human interaction.
I felt a subtle hum of mana from one of the mages at the bar, a faint, almost imperceptible spell being cast, perhaps to light a pipe or warm a drink. My Apprentice-level mana sense picked up on it instantly, discerning the subtle flow of energy, the precise intent behind the magic. It was a fascinating experience, seeing the mundane and the magical intertwined so seamlessly.
Herald sat silently, observing the room, his presence a quiet, powerful anchor. He rarely spoke, but his gaze missed nothing. He was a master of observation, constantly assessing, constantly calculating. I wondered what he saw in these ordinary people, in this bustling bar. Did he see potential cult members? Or merely distractions from his centuries-old crusade?
Mudrel, after finishing his meal, began to talk to me about the commoner's exam. "It's tough, boy," he gruffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "They test everything. Strength, agility, basic sword forms, mana control, if you got it. And they look for something… special. Something that sets you apart." He glanced at Herald, then back at me. "You got that. Just need to show it."
Bella, finished with her own portion of meat, curled up on the bench beside Mudrel, her purr a soft rumble. She occasionally peeked out at the room, her large eyes wide with curiosity, then would quickly retreat behind Mudrel when someone looked her way. She was a constant reminder of the cruelties of this world, but also of the unexpected kindness that could be found within it.
My own thoughts drifted to Evelina and Luminous. I wondered how they were coping with Lord Sapphire's death, with Evelina's condition. The guilt still gnawed at me, a persistent ache. But I pushed it down. My path was set. My goal was clear: ultimate strength. To become stronger than Herald, stronger than the "god" that sent me here. Because that, I now believed, was the only way to ensure true survival, true control, true freedom in this dangerous, unpredictable world. The Academy awaited. And with it, the next stage of my unscripted journey. This bar, this brief respite, was just a pause before the storm.