Chương 10: Chapter 9 : Part 2 : A Roof Overhead

Aldric quietly closed the door behind him and stood still for a few seconds. The simple click of the lock stirred a strange feeling within him, one he had almost forgotten. For years, every door that had closed behind him had never truly meant safety. Walls fell. Fortresses burned. Demons tore breaches through stone or ripped apart ramparts as though they were nothing more than wooden fences. Even the greatest citadels on the continent had eventually fallen before the Demon King's army.

Yet this small room, tucked beneath the roof of a modest hotel in an unfamiliar kingdom, suddenly felt safer than every fortress he had lived in throughout the war. No one knew he was here. No one would wake him before dawn to tell him another city had fallen. No one would ask him to set out again immediately. The thought still felt unreal. He slowly looked around the room.

It was small, far smaller than the quarters reserved for officers in the royal barracks, yet every object seemed to have been placed with purpose. The bed occupied nearly an entire wall. A table large enough for writing or eating stood beneath the window. A wooden chair waited in front of it. A narrow cabinet supported a strange black box with a dark screen. Though worn, the curtains completely covered the window.

There were no unnecessary decorations, no particular luxury, yet everything was clean, well maintained, and ready to be used. Aldric had slept in palaces where the rooms were ten times larger without ever feeling the peace that now filled this tiny space. He slowly unfastened the baldric that held the scabbard against his back. The straps creaked softly after weeks spent beneath rain, snow, and dust. When he finally leaned the weapon against the wall, a dull thud echoed through the room.

Aldric remained motionless before it for a few moments. Normally, he removed his sword only to clean it, sharpen it, or steal a few hours of sleep while companions stood watch in his place. Today, no one was on guard. No demons approached the walls. No scout waited to wake him. The silence was so complete that he could hear the faint creaking of the building and the muffled footsteps of a guest walking down the hallway. He then began removing his armor. The pauldrons were the first pieces to come off.

Their weight seemed to carry away part of the exhaustion that had clung to him since the final battle. Next came the vambraces, then the gauntlets, the breastplate, the greaves, and finally the belt that held everything together. Each piece made a different metallic sound as it touched the floor. Within a few minutes, a small pile of steel nearly surrounded the bed. Aldric looked at the countless black stains still covering the plates. Demon blood had resisted even the rain.

Several blows had also left deep scars in the metal. The tip of the Demon King's spear had carved a long crack near his right side. Another strike had nearly pierced his left shoulder. Without the enchantments forged by Ulmor, no suit of armor could have survived such a battle. Without his equipment, Aldric suddenly felt much lighter. The sensation was almost unsettling. During the final months of the war, he had grown so accustomed to wearing his armor that it had become part of his own body.

Its absence threw off his balance. He raised one arm, then the other, before rolling his shoulders. His joints cracked softly. The freedom of movement reminded him of the rare moments in his childhood when he had run through the forests of Valdor carrying nothing more than a simple wooden stick. He then walked toward the second door. Samir had mentioned a bathroom. The word was still unfamiliar, but Aldric understood that it was a room dedicated to washing.

When he opened the door, he found a space entirely covered in white tiles. A perfectly smooth sink occupied one corner of the room. Above it, a large mirror immediately reflected his image back at him. Aldric came to a halt. He hadn't truly looked at himself in weeks. The man staring back at him seemed different from the one who had walked away from the battlefield of Malachar. A short beard now framed his square jaw, making him look older than his twenty-three years.

His chestnut hair, still damp from the rain, fell across his forehead in unruly strands, framing his face. His deep brown eyes, usually lit by quiet determination, now looked darker, their light nearly extinguished by exhaustion. A thin scar crossed his left cheek, barely noticeable among the countless others hidden beneath his armor. He was enormous. Well over six feet tall, with a body shaped by years of relentless training, every muscle forged for war.

His broad shoulders, powerful chest, and thick arms made it seem as though no suit of armor could ever be heavy enough to slow him down. Yet it was not his appearance that held his attention. It was his eyes. For the first time in a long while, he no longer saw only the hero celebrated in every tavern across the continent. He saw a twenty-three-year-old man already carrying the weight of an entire lifetime of battles. His gaze then dropped to the sink. Two metal handles protruded from the wall. No runes.

No crystals. No summoning circle. Yet Michel had spoken of running water, and Samir had advised him to let the hot water run for a while before using it. Aldric cautiously placed a hand on the first handle. It turned easily. A low rumble echoed through the walls before a stream of perfectly clear water burst from the faucet. He instinctively stepped back, more surprised than alarmed. The flow remained perfectly steady.

The water seemed to appear without end, as though an entire river flowed through the heart of the building. He slowly reached out a hand. The water was cold. Very cold. He turned the handle back. The stream stopped immediately. Aldric spent several seconds staring at the faucet. In his world, supplying a castle with running water required dozens of workers, enormous reservoirs, and sometimes several specialized mages. Villages depended on their wells. Armies carried their water in barrels.

Here, all it took was turning a handle to summon perfectly clear water, seemingly without any effort at all. His attention shifted to the second handle. Samir had mentioned hot water. The very idea seemed almost absurd. Heating enough water for a bath normally required several servants, a great deal of firewood, and a fire burning for hours. Even kings could not have a hot bath prepared instantly. Aldric hesitated for a few seconds before slowly turning the second handle.

The same low rumble echoed through the walls. A fresh stream of water burst from the faucet. Cautiously, he reached out with only two fingers. The heat made him flinch in surprise. The water was hot. Not warm. Truly hot. Aldric looked back and forth between the faucet and his hand. Then he closed the handle, opened it again, closed it once more, and repeated the process a third time, simply to make sure the phenomenon was not the result of a temporary enchantment.

Every single time, the water returned at exactly the same temperature.

"The engineers of this kingdom rival even the greatest archmages..." He repeated the experiment a fourth time, solely to confirm that the mechanism did not rely on a limited reserve. Yet the hot water continued to flow with perfect consistency. No servant entered the room to replace an empty bucket. No mage renewed an enchantment. No boiler rumbled beneath the building. The water simply appeared whenever the handle was turned, then vanished the moment it was closed.

In his world, a king would have paid a fortune to grant such comfort to his palace. Here, even a small hotel with peeling paint already possessed this miracle. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. His gaze drifted toward the space enclosed by transparent panels. The floor sloped gently toward a metal drain. Above his head was a round disk pierced with dozens of tiny holes. Aldric studied it for a few moments before understanding.

If water could flow from a faucet, there was no reason it couldn't fall from the ceiling as well. The idea seemed perfectly logical. He opened the glass door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. The space was just large enough for him to raise his arms without touching the walls. He spotted a handle identical to the ones on the sink but hesitated for a moment. There was no point in washing while dressed. So he removed his tunic, then his trousers, placing them neatly in one corner of the room.

Once he was certain nothing would get wet unnecessarily, he reached for the handle and carefully turned it. A warm rain immediately fell onto his shoulders. The water streamed through his hair, ran down his face, traced the contours of his powerfully muscled chest, and followed the countless scars that marked his skin. Some were thin, others had nearly faded with time, but each one told the story of a battle he still remembered.

The stream continued down his back, his arms, and his legs before splashing against the floor and vanishing into the drain. He raised a hand beneath the artificial rain. He shifted his arm slightly. The water continued to fall everywhere with the same steady force. No basin filled. Nothing overflowed. The drain swallowed every drop as quickly as it arrived.

"Remarkable..." The Free Kingdoms had devoted entire generations to perfecting the irrigation systems of their capitals. The dwarves of Kar-Dur were considered the finest engineers on the continent for managing to bring water all the way to the highest levels of their underground cities. Yet even they had never imagined that an ordinary traveler could summon a warm rain at will inside a room no larger than this. He lowered his gaze to the wound. The black blood still surrounded it, but far less than before.

△ STATUS △ Demonic Corruption Residual Infection: 4% Estimated Recovery: 6 Hours Aldric turned off the water. The hot water had continued to flow over his body. He ran a hand across his shoulder, then down his arm. At last, part of the demon blood came loose, disappearing immediately into the drain. He repeated the motion more slowly, carefully cleaning each of his wounds. The warmth gradually relaxed his muscles. He hadn't realized just how tense his body had been for weeks.

Every battle had forced him to sleep only a few hours before setting out again. Even during the rare pauses, he always kept part of his armor on so he could react within seconds. Here, no one was going to attack him. The thought still felt strange. He remained beneath the water for a long time, far longer than he would have imagined. Not because he wanted to indulge in the comfort, but because his body unconsciously refused to leave that steady warmth.

When he finally turned the handle, silence immediately settled over the bathroom again. He took the large white towel folded on the shelf. The fabric was unbelievably soft. Even the linens used in royal palaces had never felt so pleasant. Once he was dry, Aldric slipped into the white bathrobe neatly folded on the shelf. The thick, surprisingly soft fabric reached down to his knees. He awkwardly tied the belt around his waist before returning to the bedroom. The bed was waiting for him.

This time, he didn't merely look at it. He sat down slowly. The mattress sank beneath his weight before springing back with remarkable softness. Curious, Aldric pressed down on it a second time with his hand before lying flat on his back. His body rested on no wooden boards, no cold stone, no roots, and no horse's saddle. The mattress naturally molded itself to the shape of his back, supporting every movement with a comfort unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He lay motionless for several moments, staring up at the ceiling as a question crossed his mind. How long had it been since he had lain down like this without keeping one hand on the hilt of his sword? He searched his memories. Perhaps before the fall of Fort Argent. Or before the Eastern Campaign. He could no longer remember.

The years of war had blurred together until they became one endless memory, an unbroken chain of marches, battles, sieges, and nights spent sleeping with one eye open, always ready to leap to his feet at the slightest sound. His gaze drifted toward his sword. It rested against the wall, exactly where he had left it when he entered the room. For the first time in years, it was out of reach. Every instinct urged him to pull it closer. Always. Without exception.

Yet his eyes drifted to the locked door, the solid walls surrounding him, and the silence filling the room. No demons lurked beyond those walls. No distant roar echoed through the night. No alarm shattered the strange tranquility. After a few seconds of hesitation, he finally let his arm fall back onto the mattress. The sword remained where it was, against the wall. An unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest. It was neither joy nor sadness. It was something else. An immense emptiness.

His entire life had been built around a single purpose: defeating the Demon King. Since childhood, every weapons master who had trained him, every general he had served under, every ruler he had met had repeated the same words. The world needed him. Every training session, every wound, every companion who had fallen in battle, every sacrifice he had made had existed for one reason alone: to prepare him for that final battle. And now, it was over. The Demon King was dead. The war belonged to the past.

The System no longer asked him to save the world. No kingdom awaited his arrival. No one relied on him to drive back an army or face another monster. For the first time in a very long time, no one needed the Hero. Aldric felt his eyelids grow heavier. He had never taken the time to think about what he would do after victory. No one ever did. Heroes died before the end of their legends. Soldiers fell before they ever had to imagine tomorrow.

Since the beginning, everyone had fought with the certainty that the final battle would also be the last day of their lives. At last, a weary smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"In the end, I won," he whispered. He never knew how long he remained there, motionless, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. A few minutes, perhaps. An entire hour. Perhaps even longer. △ QUEST COMPLETE △ Survive Your First Day Rewards: +200 XP △ LEVEL UP △ Level 101 → 102 Strength: +2 Vitality: +2 Adaptability: +5 △ MAIN QUEST △ Acquire a Home Objective Obtain a permanent residence. A place where you belong. Rewards:???