Chương 18: Chapter 17

Lionel smirked.

"What about it?"

"Well," Corin said, all kinds of awkward, "I did kind of save your life."

"I very-saved your life," Lionel countered, and Corin nodded emphatically.

"That you did," Corin replied.

"And, you know, eternally grateful for that. But-""But?" Lionel interjected." But, I wouldn't have needed any saving at all from the Brute, if not for attacking it to save you." Bran glanced between them awkwardly. He much preferred the prior pitched combat to whatever this was. Lionel instead considered Corin's point in silence. He took off his helmet, noting the sharp dent in it.

He glanced at Bran, then at Corin - then at Corin's Bag of Holding, his eyes lingering on it, clearly turning something over in his mind.

"I'll think about it." With that, Lionel pushed past Corin and walked down towards the cobbled stairs, leaving Corin alone with Bran. Bran looked at him, and Corin scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"I know, I know. I shouldn't have taken on that debt," Corin said. Bran didn't react, instead just studying him and waiting.

"I just had a plan, that didn't really work out," Corin continued, raising his Bag of Holding as if it explained anything.

"But I'll do my b-"" Where did you get the sword?" Corin went cold.

"The sword? What sword? There's no sword," Corin said, stammering out the words. Bran simply looked at him, waiting for a real answer, until Corin finally relented.

"Promise not to tell anyone?" he asked. Bran let out a hollow laugh.

"No."

"Fair, fair," Corin said, thinking rapidly, if not competently.

"The sword... I got the sword, at, uh," he continued, trailing off while trying to find the words. The words that were, unfortunately, nowhere to be found. Eventually, Corin just sighed.

"Listen. The sword's the reason their invasion failed at all," Corin said, his voice growing steadier, harder.

"I didn't have to give it to you, and you didn't have to use it. I know you don't remember anything after your Innate ran out - or maybe you don't want to, given how burned some of our fellow adventurers looked - so how about you just shut up about the sword and take the win, or maybe I won't shut up about some pretty fucking un -friendly fire. How about that?" Corin finished, and stood there for a moment, slowly realizing that he had, in fact, said all of that shit.

He met Bran's gaze, trying to hide his sudden fear and regret, but he didn't say a word. After a moment, or perhaps an eternity, Bran simply turned and walked away. This was not a particularly comforting notion, as Bran could just as easily let it go as report him to the Guild overseers. Corin watched him leave, until he was truly alone on top of the wall; a single, uncomfortable thought flashing through his mind: I guess that burgeoning friendship has ended.

Corin spent the day helping put the city back together; putting out fires, hauling rubble, clearing the multitude of corpses and tossing them into the massive bonfire at the city's center, unfortunately discovering that burning goblin - and burning human - smelled quite delicious. While he was happy to be useful, he knew the various disfigured faces of the citizens and guards he'd carried to the bonfire would greet him in untold dreams thereafter. The faces never leave you. I know that much.

The worst of the work was finished come evening, and the Guild convened an assembly to discuss the invasion. Corin sat near the back of the Guild Hall, with the other F-ranks. He was pleasantly surprised to see Perrin sitting near the corner, fortuitously intact.

"Corin!" Perrin exclaimed, moving over to give him room on the bench.

"You're alive?! I saw you fly off the wall!"

"Turns out goblins make for good landings," Corin replied, and Perrin laughed but didn't relent.

"No, really, how the hell are you alive?" Perrin repeated, and Corin's reply died as the Guildmaster, Aldwin, stood. He didn't need to clear his throat. The hall just quieted upon his ascension.

"Assembly." His eyes moved across the room.

"Condolences to those no longer with us." He read eleven names, each one struck once against the iron bell beside him. A rite old enough that nobody in the hall knew its meaning, only its importance. Nobody spoke over them, solemnly nodding with each ringing strike.

"To those who held the defense, thank you," Aldwin said, then paused.

"And to those who ran - I'll discuss that with each of you personally tomorrow."

"Above all, some of you require recognition. Bran, come forward." Bran stood and walked to the front.

"More than half a hundred goblins. Two Brutes. Held the eastern breach alone long enough for the gate to close." The Guildmaster's hand went to his shoulder.

"Lionel. Join him."

"Killed the third Brute, and fought at Bran's side through the worst of it." He named three C-ranks next, and Corin's ears caught one in particular - Tamsin - the caster who'd thrown him the mana potion mid-fight, fortunately still alive. They came forward to stand beside the others.

"Rewards will be given in tur-" Bran leaned in and whispered something to Aldwin. The Guildmaster's composure slipped, just for a second, before his eyes found Corin. The whole room followed his gaze. Corin's stomach dropped.

"Corin Vess. Stand." He stood. Every face in the hall turned with the Guildmaster's.

"This adventurer - F-rank, on record - prevented the city gates from opening. Three times." Lionel let out a sigh, then murmured something further to Aldwin.

"... And helped Lionel kill the third Brute." A few adventurers exchanged glances, but no one spoke.

"Come forward." He walked the length of the hall, feeling every eye on him the whole way.

"Bran. A-rank, effective tonight. Lionel, and you three, B-rank." Then, to Corin: "And you, D-rank. Two tiers in a single night is close to unheard of, though you perhaps deserve more. I suspect the story behind it is stranger than the rank itself. We'll discuss that too, tomorrow," he added, somewhat ominously. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Corin didn't know how to feel. None of it seemed real.

He half expected to wake up mid-fall off the wall, or with the Brute's teeth still closing on his ankle.

"Rewards - and everything else - tomorrow. Tonight, rest. You've earned it." Corin looked up at the ceiling, watching a particularly nimble rat scurry across an exposed rafter. With any luck, this would be the last night he slept in Gus's flophouse. D-rank adventurers could sleep in the actual Guild barracks, room and board provided at subsidy in return for continued service, though he'd have to wait until tomorrow for his rank and his hopefully-not-hay-bed to be finalized.

Some part of him would miss his stale-gristle stew, and his little hamster bed. Not a large part, mind you. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he'd gotten an actual win. It was late, but Corin wasn't ready to sleep. He had a few important things to attend to, particularly since he hadn't even checked his Foresight vision for the day.

First, he opened up his stats: [CORIN VESS] Level: 15 Rank: F → (pending) Class: Journeyman {Rare} STR 12 AGI 14 VIT 11 INT 13 WIS 16 LUK 3 HP: 125 / 125 MP: 16 / 70 PROFICIENCIES Hammer Proficiency – Apprentice [49%] Alchemy – Novice [50%] INNATE Foresight {Epic} – Novice [75%] He noted the 'pending' for his rank change, then excitedly brought up the updated description for his Journeyman class, now with a glowing {Rare} tag: CLASS: Journeyman {Rare} SKILLS Spark {Common} Bolt {Common} Minor Heal {Common} {Empowered} Tether {Rare} PASSIVE Quick Study {Rare} He stared at Tether's updated text, then looked at Quick Study's new "Rare" tag in shock, rapidly opening its description to see what had actually changed: Quick Study {Rare} Increases XP gained per unique creature slain: +1% (Common), +2.

5% (Elite), +5% (Boss). Current XP bonus: 0% Holy fuck. Holy FUCK. He wanted to spend more time marveling at it, running through all the possibilities of how to take advantage of it. It clearly wasn't retroactive, which meant he'd missed out on the 2. 5% for the Elite-tier Brute entirely, and everything else he's ever killed - but there wasn't much time left for rumination before the next day began, so he needed to see today's vision before it disappeared forever.

He focused on his red eye, trying to see, and the day's vision soon arrived: [Anomaly flag▒ unscheduled infor▒mmetry, Aldford reg~] [Under revi~] What... the fuck? Anomaly flagged: unscheduled infor-something-mmetry, Aldford region. Under review. At first, Corin had told himself his Foresight Innate was just a dim glimpse into the future; the Turn being turned into something comprehensible. The Turn was like the weather. Everyone knew that. Something natural, blind; a force of nature. But "anomaly" wasn't natural.

"Under review" wasn't natural. Maybe the Turn wasn't natural. He thought of his uncle again. The mad mutterings, the eyes that saw something no one else could see, right up until the day no one could convince him it wasn't real. Corin had always assumed the sickness had come from inside his uncle's head. He was no longer so sure.

A pain behind his eye interrupted the thought, and a new message revealed itself with the arrival of the new day: [Reb▒ngry Chicken Peck dam~ +4%] He stared at the message, the sheer mundanity of it something that would normally fill him with despair... but there was no further mention of the anomaly this time. No "under review." Corin let out a slow breath, the relief thin and short-lived, more a stay of execution than an actual reprieve.

With that, he bunched up the hay around him, briefly finding solace in his hamsterly ways, and promptly passed out. He awoke unusually late, got ready, and tidied up his hay bed, giving it a solemn, almost tearful goodbye. Gus grunted something as he passed the bar - possibly a farewell, possibly just a grunt - and Corin decided to take it as the former. There'd been mention of reward for his efforts, though nothing specific.

He'd also be inducted into the Guild barracks, and given his choice of the most basic gear available. A fortuitous development, since his trusty weapon had finally gone to hammer-heaven. So: reward, room and board, and a weapon awaiting him. That was the good stuff. As for the bad stuff: he still had a 15-gold debt with just a few copper to his name, and a lender who didn't seem particularly keen on charity.

What's more, he now had Bran as a potential loose end, someone who could ruin him with a single word whenever he pleased. In truth, the room and board was looking a lot less appealing in comparison. Corin thus entered the Guild with a certain trepidation, immediately spotting Bran and Lionel sitting in the corner, both of whom looked up from their conversation to meet his gaze. He saw Bran mouth, ' Sit.' He compiled.

"Listen, Lio-""We've come to an agreement," Bran said, talking over him.

"Shut up and listen." Corin shut up and listened.

"Lionel and I have some... mutual interests," Bran said, not quite meeting Corin's eyes.

"We've come to an agreement to end your debt."

"You're forgiving my debt?!" Corin asked Lionel in shock.

"I know I saved your life, but I didn't th-""Not forgiving, no," Lionel said.

"That's not what we said nor agreed on."

"Lionel will consider your debt cleared once you commission your Blade of Eternal Fury to me," Bran continued, still not looking at him directly.

"I'll be using it as my own weapon, now that I need to fulfill my A-rank obligations." Corin glanced between Bran and Lionel, unsure of exactly what kind of deal they'd made.

"And how long will you be loaning the sword?" Corin asked.

"Indefinitely," Bran said, Lionel nodding in agreement.

"That doesn't really sound like loaning," Corin said, unable to keep the flatness out of his voice.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll need to explain how you got it in the first place," Lionel replied.

"Along with all the other pleasantries that come with an unpaid debt."" Oh."

"Look at it this way," Bran said, his expression softening somewhat.

"This way, neither of us has to find out what the other's hiding. Consider it a favor."

"Feels like more of a threat than a favor."

"Why not both?" Lionel asked with his characteristic smirk.

"Treat it however you want - whatever makes you sleep better at night - but we'll need an answer. Remember, if you accept: your secret's safe with us. For now." Corin glanced between them. He wanted to be furious. He wanted to be fucking livid. Instead, he was just relieved. The sword had just put a massive target on his back, and he couldn't use the damn thing anyway. If it meant that he could both pay off his debt, and help keep his secret hidden, then it was the easiest choice of his life.

"Deal," he said, feigning some degree of reluctance, and reached out his hand. Lionel's smirk faltered for the briefest moment, before taking Corin's hand and shaking it.

"Deal," Bran repeated, giving Corin another iron-grip handshake, rising as he did so. Lionel gave them a perfunctory nod, then Corin left the Guild with Bran, neither of them offering a word until they reached an appropriately remote pathway. Corin carefully drew out the sword, handing it to Bran, who seemed a little too pleased at the sight of it.

"Careful, Bran," Corin said, watching his eyes carefully.

"That thing has a way of getting to you." Bran drew the sword back and slid it into the sheath strapped across his back, the flames quickly reducing to a red-ember glow.

"No reward without risk," Bran replied simply. Corin, considering the seedy transaction done, turned to leave. Bran grabbed his shoulder before he could.

"Listen. I'm sorry," Bran said, Corin not sure what he was playing at.

"I'd have never survived the fight without the sword, and never made A-rank as a result - and now, I'll be dead without it."

"You could have just refused the rank," Corin replied, though the words felt hollow even as he said them. Bran tilted his head, almost apologetically, and Corin understood without needing him to say it. You don't refuse the Guild. You do what they tell you, and try not to die in the process.

"Stay safe out there," Bran said, surprisingly sincere, and Corin's expression softened, glancing once more at the weapon now slung across his back. He nodded in recognition. Bran turned to leave, making it two steps before stopping. He glanced back over his shoulder, not quite meeting Corin's eyes.

"Did you see how they died?" Corin knew exactly who 'they' were. He didn't answer immediately, half because he didn't know, half because a guess would have been worse than silence either way. Eventually, he just shrugged.

"Does it matter? They'd be dead, either way. We all would be." Bran stood there a moment, a moment that slowly turned into an eternity. He finally nodded, ever so subtly, then left without another word.