Instead of Orin, my lunch was unexpectedly covered by Instructor Vallen, who extended the invitation to the other druids as well—Orin Sylvas, Riven Greenthorn, Fenric Mirelthas, Alton Broiner, and Sable Thornveil.

  As it turned out, this was the important thing she had wanted to tell us—she was treating us all.

  I had no idea why she looked so serious when she said it. Then again, Instructor Vallen always had a… unique way of expressing herself.

  The lunch wasn’t just to celebrate my victory. It was also her way of honoring the druids who had fallen at the Tower.

  Out of the eight druids in our original team, two never returned from the Tower.

  Orin had managed to join another team of barbarian and elf, while the rest had formed a single party. Though they had only ventured around the Safe Zone, the Tower had still proven too brutal for them.

  Death wasn’t something special to adventurers.

  We had all been raised with the understanding that our fate could end at any moment. As citizens of Asterion Kingdom, it was our duty to enter the Tower of Ascension.

  But for now, we weren't focused on loss or duty. We celebrated. For us, the ones who had made it back safely.

  “Cheers!” Instructor Vallen raised her glass, looking far more relaxed and cheerful than usual. “And enough with the ‘instructor’ nonsense! Just call me Vallen. It’s not like we’re that far apart in age.”

  Maybe for druids, the age gap wasn’t much, but for humans? Yeah, no. I wisely kept that thought to myself.

  “Erynd, teach me how to be strong like you!” Fenric suddenly blurted out, eyes full of determination.

  “Maybe start by not crying so much,” Sable teased, taking a sip of her drink.

  “You were crying too, back at the end of the duel!” Fenric shot back. “I saw you wiping your eyes!”

  Sable scoffed. “It was dust. Dramatic dust.”

  Before I could say anything, Instructor Vallen, who was already half-drunk, suddenly leaned in, her face turning dead serious.

  “Hey, Eryn…” she murmured. The mood shifted instantly. The air grew tense. Everyone fell silent.

  “I’m actually… really disappointed in you.”

  My stomach dropped. “W-what?”

  Instructor Vallen sighed, shaking her head. Then, with the same grave expression, she continued, “You should’ve smashed that bastard’s head in a few more times. Once wasn’t enough.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  Then Fenric choked on his drink. Alton spat his out. Sable snorted. Riven wheezed.

  Then we burst into laughter.

  And just like that, the tension melted away, replaced by the sound of clinking glasses and cheerful voices.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying our food, laughing, and forgetting about the dangers of the Tower—just for a little while.

  ***

  Instructor Vallen and the others had already returned to Willow’s End using Andrheus Rift, but I still had a few things to take care of in town.

  Unfortunately, Orin had decided that my errands were now our errands.

  “I need to stop by a shop nearby. They sell rare monster materials!” she said cheerfully, practically skipping beside me before I could even object. “Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down!”

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  Of course, she did.

  Orin always managed to find ways to make things take longer than necessary. Still, I couldn't bring myself to tell her to go back.

  We walked in silence for a while, weaving through the cobbled streets lined with merchant stalls and shouting vendors. Then, just as we passed a quiet alleyway, Orin suddenly slowed down.

  “E-Eryndor…” Orin was fidgeting, her face flushed red. “Th-thank you,” she stammered. “For standing up for me earlier.”

  I blinked, caught completely off guard.

  For some reason, hearing her say it so directly made me feel… weird.

  Awkward. Vulnerable, even.

  “A-Ah…” I rubbed the back of my neck, looking anywhere but at her. “I’ve, uh… been meaning to teach those guys a lesson anyway.”

  Why the hell was I stammering too?!

  “But, y’know…” I added quickly, picking up my pace to hide the heat creeping into my face. “In the end, we druids have to watch each other’s backs. That’s just how it is.”

  “Mm.” She nodded softly behind me.

  I cleared my throat and waved a hand. “Come on. We’ve got things to do.”

  ***

  Since the Mana Stones I earned were barely enough—barely enough to cover the essentials for my next expedition. I had to make a tough choice.

  At first, I considered selling the Ooborosk Soul Fragment. It would’ve fetched a small fortune. But after my victory, I changed my mind.

  I have another plan for the Soul Fragment.

  StormBreaker, on the other hand? It would fetch a great price. And that would be more than enough to fund my next exploration.

  The shopkeeper, a stocky old dwarf with soot-stained gloves and an eye patch that looked more decorative than functional, examined the hammer with a grumble.

  “Hmmph. Decent shape. You’ve maintained it well.”

  I nodded. “So what’s your offer?”

  The dwarf squinted at me with one eye, then finally grunted, “28,000 Mana Stones. Final offer.”

  I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “The shop next door offered more.”

  He didn’t even flinch. “Then go sell it there.”

  He turned around immediately, muttering something under his breath and returning to his counter like I wasn’t even there.

  I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could say anything, Orin stepped in.

  She planted her hands on her hips and leaned forward slightly, her voice teasing but firm. “Come on, old man. You know this hammer’s worth more than that.”

  The dwarf didn’t turn around.

  “If you don’t give us a better deal,” Orin continued sweetly, “we’re not buying these robes and gear either. And I know your margins on enchanted cloth are terrible.”

  Now the dwarf stopped.

  He let out a long, gravelly sigh before finally turning to face us again, eye twitching.

  “Fine. 29,000. But no discounts on the robe.”

  “Deal!” Orin chirped, clapping her hands.

  I stared at her, half-impressed and half-in-disbelief. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

  She winked. “Let’s just say… it’s in my blood.”

  As we left the store, Orin handed me the robe. I blinked at the robe in her hands.

  “…Wait. Are you serious?”

  Orin hesitated before mumbling under her breath, “I-It’s for you.”

  “…What?”

  “The robe,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “Consider it… a thank-you gift. For sticking up for me.” She shoved the robe into my arms. “Just take it already.”

  Leafweaver Robe.

  Made of enchanted leaves and silk, it enhanced magic resistance and boosted wind-element spells. A good-quality piece of gear, worth a whopping 800 Mana Stones—a ridiculous amount for a beginner.

  “…Thank you,” I muttered, feeling strangely flustered.

  I hadn’t even realized how worn-out my old robe was until now—full of tiny holes, torn at the edges. Guess it really was time for a change.

  ***

  We spent the rest of the evening browsing through various shops, upgrading our equipment, and purchasing a generous supply of alchemy ingredients for potion-making.

  By the time we were done, the sky had already turned a deep shade of twilight, and the streets were illuminated by the soft glow of Mana lanterns.

  At the crossroads, Orin turned toward the path leading back to the druids’ land, her steps slow, as if reluctant to part ways.

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, offering a small smile. I nodded. “Yeah. Get some rest.”

  With that, she disappeared into the evening mist. Meanwhile, I turned in the opposite direction—toward one final destination I had been meaning to visit.

  There was still one last place I needed to go—one last thing I had to do before the night ended.

  I just hoped everything would go smoothly.

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