Chương 35: The Price of Purity

"Your sword," Caleb began as they walked away from Yorrin's Forge, his new spear balanced across his shoulder." Flamewright. How did you make it appear like that?" He couldn't shake the image. One moment, empty air. The next, a legendary weapon materializing out of nowhere. His mind fired through possibilities: portals, pocket dimensions, spatial distortions. Ultimately, he settled on the only accurate explanation he could come up with: incomprehensible. Selara glanced at him, a spark of amusement in her grey eyes.

"I take it you have never seen a spatial artifact?" She held up her left hand, showing him a plain silver ring on her middle finger. Up close, Caleb could see faint, close-set etchings along its surface: runes so small and delicate they were almost invisible unless the light hit them just right.

"It is called a void ring. Useful for storing things you have no desire to carry around. Do not get any ideas, though. The artifact demands a massive surge of Mana to activate. You will only gain the necessary lake of spiritual energy when breaking through to E-tier. And even then… they are quite rare due to their expense." Of course. The universe wasn't content just to kill him and drop him in a hostile world. It also had to dangle ridiculously useful magic items in his face that he couldn't use.

It felt like window shopping for a sports car when he couldn't even afford the bus fare home. As they continued through the village streets, Caleb noticed details he'd missed on the way to the forge. Dark green and black streamers hanging from eaves and doorways in contrast to the village's usual facade. The sight triggered a quiet domestic memory. Thal, much younger, watching his mother carefully fold a dark green cloak. The scent of dried leaves and old wool clung to the fabric.

Her moss-green eyes were sad, her movements slow and careful. Caleb thought back to Selara's behavior when Jakob tried to sell him the cloak.

"My mother never liked the Reaping Festival." He gestured toward a particularly elaborate display of intertwined green and black ribbons. A flash of bitterness passed through Selara's eyes, and she clenched her jaw. When she spoke, it was with a harsh edge that turned her usual pragmatic tone caustic.

"The Reaping, yes." She practically spat the words.

"An ancient harvest festival turned into another piece of Dominion propaganda. Our ancestors honored the cycle of life and death, celebrated the harvest and mourned the lost. It was simple. Pure." Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

"Now it has become this grotesque celebration of the Empire's military might.

'Remember the fallen, but only so you understand why the strong must rule.' They took something beautiful and made it serve their agenda." Selara fell silent for several steps, her pace slowing as they navigated around a cart loaded with barrels. When she finally spoke again, her voice was flat and carefully controlled.

"My mother's name was read at the capital's procession the year she passed away. Aurelian and I went, for the first few years. For her." Caleb thought of his own agonizing loss: Evelynn, Katie, and Jack, all unreachable across the void between worlds. His grief remained a partially healed scab, ready to bleed at the barest touch. Her grief had calcified into an old, deep scar, the kind of injury that reshaped the person around it.

For the first time, he saw past the stern exterior and glimpsed a different kind of survivor, one shaped by losses he didn't understand. Selara spoke again, the brief window into her past closing as she pivoted back to pragmatism.

"The Reaping reminds us death is always close, which is why you should not take foolish risks. Speaking of foolishness, you need to absorb those spirit stones tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, before you sleep. Your body does the hard work of processing the Contamination while you are unconscious. You should have felt that after your Awakening. Do not let them sit in your pocket like lucky charms. Progression is a long, ugly grind - especially when you are relying on those things instead of essence stones. Wasting a night is a luxury you cannot afford." They turned onto the main thoroughfare and the recognizable clamor of the Adventurer's Hall came into view.

The Hall upheld its typical ambiance of boisterous revelry, undercut by faint anxiety and transactional relationships. More contracts than usual covered the bounty board, reflecting the increased activity before the festival. They entered and approached Felicity's counter.

"Thal," Felicity said, her eyes rising from a ledger. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second when she noticed the woman at his side. Instantly, her posture straightened, a small shift that pulled her shoulders back.

"And the Lady Veil," she acknowledged with a respectful nod.

"What can I do for you both today?" Selara gestured toward Caleb.

"My apprentice has business," she said simply. Caleb reached into his pack and laid out the hemlock prowler's yellowed canines and its needle-like black pelt, along with the heavy glass jar with the matriarch's pheromone gland. Felicity's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the gland, but she quickly moved to assess the lot. After a brief negotiation where she offered him a generous price on the gland, they settled the transaction.

She counted out forty-three gold pieces, the coins forming a gleaming pile on the scarred wood. Sliding the gold coins into his coin pouch, Caleb considered his options. The money represented choices, possibilities. He looked at Selara, his mind working through the logic.

"This Spiritual Contamination... is there a way to speed up the cleansing? Like an alchemical solution, maybe? A potion of some kind?" He glanced toward the village center where The Verdant Phial conducted its business.

"Even if Aurelian won't bother with F-tier concoctions, surely someone sells something that could help?" The question hung in the air like a loaded crossbow. Caleb was testing a logical idea, seeking confirmation or rejection from his mentor as he tested the waters around using their competitor. Selara became gravely serious. She dropped her voice to a low, direct tone meant for him alone, though Felicity leaned closer with obvious interest.

"Listen to me, apprentice. Zarven does not just sell potions; he sells leashes. You buy from him once and he will consider you his customer forever. And only his customer. He does not like it when his customers shop around. I strongly advise you to stay out of his ledger." Felicity gave a confirmatory nod.

"She's right, Thal. I've seen too many adventurers get pulled into his web. They think they're making a simple transaction, but Zarven's deals always come with strings attached." The warnings dashed any hopes of a straightforward solution. Caleb recalibrated as the easy path revealed itself as an option he had to avoid. Was Zarven really that bad? Or was it just his association with the Veils that made the situation seem so risky? Either way, he'd chosen his side. He took a slow breath, weighing his alternatives.

So, the town's two alchemists were a crime boss and a disgraced noble who wouldn't get out of bed for anything less than a D-tier problem. He mentally shook his head. Where was a guy supposed to get the equivalent of an alchemical aspirin around here? This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It made no sense.

The village was crawling with F-tier adventurers, every one of them a potential customer for basic potions that didn't require a Faustian bargain or a small fortune. Someone could make a killing selling honest potions to honest people… He sighed.

"Okay then, is there another way? A spirit herb, maybe? Something that can help without needing a master alchemist?" Felicity wavered for a moment, her eyebrows rising. She exchanged a quick glance with Selara.

"Glimmerdew moss," Selara confirmed.

"It is the base ingredient for purification draughts, which are the cleansing potions you were seeking. The moss grows in luminous patches on the underside of large, ancient fern fronds and in the shadowed crevices of nurse logs in areas with high spiritual energy saturation. Adventurers often try to eat an ounce before bed for the doubled cleansing effect; its potency is just magnified when prepared by an alchemist." Felicity nodded.

"The moss isn't as effective as a proper draught, but it's something. And there are always standing contracts for it because of the demand."

"Where can I find it?" Caleb asked. Felicity's composure shifted, concern creeping into her composed demeanor.

"That's the problem. You have three options. The first two are safe, but they'll cost you." She gestured to a thick ledger.

"You can place a buy order. We fill them at the standard rate of one gold per pound, but the queue is months long. Or, you can post a private contract, offer a premium, and jump the line." She then pulled a specific contract slip from the stack behind her station, becoming more serious.

"The third option is to take on an open collection bounty yourself." She placed the parchment on the counter where he could read it. The contract was clear-cut: gather F-tier glimmerdew moss from the Rootbound Depths. But it was the warning text at the bottom that made his stomach clench.

"Warning: The Rootbound Depths is confirmed territory of E-tier mosshide bears. Extreme caution is advised."

"The only reliable local source is in higher tiered mosshide bear territory. Going in there yourself is the fastest way to get it without spending your gold, but it's a death sentence for most F-tiers." Caleb evaluated the three paths, each with a different risk: time, money, or mortality. The buy order was too slow; stagnation was something he wanted to avoid at any price. Posting a contract was smart, but it would drain his new wealth, the very capital he might need for other investments. He ran the numbers.

If an ounce of moss doubled his nightly cleansing rate from one percent to two, then a single spirit stone's ten percent Contamination would clear in five days instead of ten. To sustain an increased growth rate, say, absorbing six stones a month, he'd need two pounds of the stuff. He looked at the contract for the Rootbound Depths as a benchmark for his future, a goal to work toward down the road. He would come back for it. But for now, he would use the tool he understood best: cash.

"I'll post a private contract," Caleb said.

"Four pounds of the glimmerdew moss, please. I'll see about collecting it on my own once I'm stronger." Felicity raised her eyebrows.

"And the premium?"

"Let's add another fifty percent, making it one gold, fifty silver per pound."

"An offer like that will surely get someone's attention. I expect it'll be filled within a few days, actually. Everyone is trying to make quick money for the festival." He counted out six gold coins and pushed them across the polished wood to her. Selara had been silent throughout this exchange, watching and assessing. Now she spoke.

"Alright, apprentice. Your morning training with Hatch is mandatory, but after that, you are with me. I shall see you at The Golden Mortar." She held his eyes, her expression utterly serious.

"We have a lot of work to do before you are ready for the Depths. Do not be late." The words were plain, yet the look in her eyes conveyed an unspoken challenge. Before him stood not just a noblewoman, but a powerful warrior who could instantly materialize a legendary sword and probably cut him in half with a flick of the wrist. Her stare demanded obedience. Selara left without another word, her stride decisive as she headed back toward her brother's shop.

Caleb watched her go, feeling the weight of her expectations. After saying his goodbyes to Felicity, he used the walk back to the Hearthsong Inn to give himself time to process the implications of the conversation. He'd mapped his immediate route: training with Hatch in the mornings, instruction from Selara afterward, and absorbing power from spirit stones as quickly as he could.

He had a significant amount of money in his pocket for the first time since getting dragged into this life, but he wasn't sure how to prioritize his budget. Another healing potion or two was a must; rent and food obviously. But what about the essence stones he'd heard about? Was there enough surplus to justify that expense? I should see what Selara's training is going to look like tomorrow before making any large decisions. Continuing to approach the inn, he noticed more green and black trappings.

Now that he understood their meaning they carried additional significance. The Reaping stood apart from the sanitized holidays he remembered, which were buffered from reality by safety regulations and a general sense of security. Here, it was an unvarnished acknowledgment of the world's brutal calculus, especially on the frontier, where the law of the jungle reigned. A simple misstep or a moment of inattention could instantly plunge you into a fight for your life.

This festival celebrated survival by honoring how precarious life was. He was still mulling over the festival when the hospitality of the Hearthsong Inn washed over him. Inside, the common room was alive with the clatter of tankards and the low murmur of negotiations. A trio of armored warriors recounted a narrow escape to a rapt audience, their embellished tale-spinning occasionally filtering through the din. The warmth and light felt welcoming after the afternoon's weighty conversations.

Cassia emerged from behind the bar as he entered, her motherly smile brightening when she saw him.

"Thal, there you are! How did your shopping expedition with Selara go? Your new equipment sure looks good on you." Caleb relaxed, disarmed by her genuine concern, though he privately wondered how she always seemed to know his movements about the village. He supposed that in a place this size little went unnoticed, especially by a keen innkeeper like Cassia.

"Well. All I can say is she sure knows her business." Caleb gestured toward the garlands that adorned the inn's interior.

"I noticed the festival decorations were hung. Everything looks really nice." Cassia grew thoughtful, colored with the solemnity he saw in Selara's reaction.

"The Reaping, yes. It's... important to us. A time to remember those we've lost and celebrate what we've built together." She paused, studying his face.

"You know, we hold a private family dinner on the final day. Just the Hearthsongs and those closest to us. Would you like to join?" His throat felt tight. A family tradition. He had been a worker and a charge to this woman, a glorified charity case. But Cassia's bearing held something else entirely now, an offer rooted in real affection.

"I-I'd be honored." Cassia beamed.

"Wonderful! Gareth will be pleased. He's been talking about preparing something special. And Corinne will be delighted to have you there, of course." The conversation continued for a few more minutes, but Caleb found his attention drifting to the spirit stones he carried. He made his excuses and climbed the stairs to his private room. The space had changed now that it was truly his, having transformed from a temporary refuge into a base of operations.

He placed his gear neatly on the room's single chair, while his old bloodstained clothes still lay in a pile destined for the laundry. More like the trash. I should burn those things. Caleb sat cross-legged on his bed and removed the three spirit stones from his pocket. Three small red rocks, each containing power, potential, and debilitation. He arranged them in a neat row on the blanket, studying them with his enhanced perception. The red stones pulsed with a red energy, their auras eager and aggressive.

Together, they represented thirty percent Contamination, a considerable burden if Selara was to be believed, but she had been straight with him so far. Still, he wanted to try. To test his limits and know the risks. Survival isn't enough anymore, Foster. With the warmth from Cassia's invitation still lingering in his heart, he looked at the spirit stones and saw something beyond personal power. He saw Gareth's gruff approval and Corinne's bright smile, as well as Cassia's quiet strength. Even Leo's earnest passion.

These stones were a shield. A shield for this place, for these people. For this fragile chance at a new beginning. The memory of his lost family was transforming from an unhealing wound into a foundation, a remembrance of what love looked like and why it was worth fighting for. He'd failed to protect one family. He wouldn't fail to protect another. It's time to get stronger. Strong enough to make sure I never have to lose a family again. The stones gleamed in the candlelight.

From his perspective they had become instruments of purpose, tools to safeguard what mattered. Tomorrow would bring new challenges: Hatch's training, Selara's intensive preparation, and eventually even the deadly test of the Rootbound Depths. Tonight was about building the bedrock he'd need to face them all.