From the second-floor window of a small inn in Gold Lake Town, Ethan pulled the curtain aside and looked down.
A squad of Windrest Keep soldiers trudged past, faces drawn, boots heavy.
Last night, Morningstar had played them like toys.
One noble knight had actually raised his hand and sworn—by the gods—that he would catch her and hang her from the city gate.
He didn’t even finish the oath.
Something nipped the back of his knee, and he dropped to one knee with a yelp.
When he looked up, Morningstar was already kneeling in front of him, smiling sweetly.
She accepted his “bow” like it was a gift and said, bright as sunshine, “If you’re going to swear, you should kneel. Otherwise the gods won’t believe you.”
That kind of thing happened over and over.
It didn’t hurt much.
But it ruined morale like acid.
By the time the eastern sky started to pale, the knights were sprawled on the ground in exhausted surrender. Only then did Morningstar give Ethan a casual wave—goodnight—and vanish.
At first Ethan had assumed she was simply mischievous.
But as he watched, he realized she was teaching.
How to chain abilities.
How to move.
How to use a shadow like a weapon and a weapon like a distraction.
His own self-taught instincts weren’t bad.
But compared to an actual lineage?
He was crude.
A breeze drifted in through the cracked window, carrying away some of the summer heat. Ethan reached into his pocket and took out the sapphire necklace Lady Alwen had left behind.
In the sunlight, the gem flashed.
He placed it into a gift box he’d bought the day before, wrapped it neatly, and checked out.
He walked to Catherine’s house.
Danny had been cleared. Lily had safely delivered her baby. Double joy. The little villa was packed with relatives and neighbors bringing food, gossip, and relief.
On the way, Sheriff Ryder spotted Ethan and greeted him warmly.
“It’s you, counselor!” the sheriff said, clapping him on the shoulder like an old friend. “Can you believe it? Lily’s baby held on. Seven Gods bless us—she’s a girl. Healthy, strong. A real miracle.”
“A girl’s good,” Ethan said, thinking of a woman in a blue dress and a broken life that had finally been unknotted.
The sheriff kept talking, delighted. “They named her Annie. After Catherine’s mother. People say her mother was a noble lady, gone too soon… so Danny and Lily wanted to honor the baby’s great-grandmother.”
Annie.
So Lady Alwen’s name had been Annie.
Reborn into a child with the same name.
Maybe the world really did like its strange little circles.
When they reached the door, the sheriff invited him in again.
Ethan smiled and refused.
“I’ve got business. Need to catch a train,” he lied easily. Then he handed over the wrapped box. “This is for little Annie. Please—give it to the family for me.”
The sheriff took the gift, touched by the gesture, and Ethan walked away without looking back.
Upstairs in the nursery, Catherine stared at the box in surprise.
“The counselor?” she murmured. “He… sent something for her?”
When the sheriff explained Ethan had already left for the station, Catherine rushed to the street-facing window.
Midday crowds filled the road.
Ethan was nowhere to be found.
Catherine unwrapped the box.
A sapphire necklace lay in her palm.
Her mother’s necklace.
For a long moment, Catherine couldn’t move. The last two days had been packed with things that shouldn’t have been possible—her son-in-law’s name cleared, her daughter’s baby saved.
Now this.
She didn’t understand anything… and somehow she understood everything.
A friend asked if she was all right. Catherine wiped her eyes, forced a smile, and returned to the crib.
“If this is a gift from that kind, upright counselor,” she whispered to the newborn, brushing a finger over the baby’s cheek, “then Annie should wear it.”
She fastened the necklace gently.
The infant’s tiny fist closed around the chain.
And Annie—bright-eyed, healthy—smiled.
[SYSTEM]
Shadow Dagger:
Summon a phantom dagger. It can attack up to two enemies on its own.
As a conjured shadow-construct, it dissipates quickly.
Mark Target:
Secretly tag a target. For a short duration, you can sense the target’s position at all times.
If the target gets too far away, the mark breaks.
Minor Damage Transfer:
Transfer low-grade damage at the cost of mental strain.
Works best against targets below your tier.
Outside Gold Lake Town, on a quiet country lane, Ethan walked while testing his new skills in his head.
Minor Damage Transfer—he’d seen that one before, the hard way, in the fight with the Infiltrator pirates. He’d nearly died because of it.
Shadow Dagger… that had to be what Morningstar used to kill Borg Moros’ steward.
Mark Target wasn’t direct damage, but it was the kind of tool assassins built their lives around.
Summer was lush out here. Tall grass swayed. Birds flitted between branches. The road ran empty and clean, as if it had never known soldiers.
Ethan set his pace toward Windrest City.
On foot, it would take about a day and a half.
It was noon. If he kept moving through the afternoon and most of the night, he could reach the city gates by dawn tomorrow.
He’d deliberately avoided trains and carriages.
Too many eyes.
Too many chances for someone to notice him “disappear.”
On an empty road, if trouble came, he could slip into the Shadow Realm and leave nothing but footprints in the dust.
And there was another reason.
In the time he’d forced out over the last few days, Ethan had read through Faranir’s autobiography and Garde’s notes.
He’d confirmed something that mattered.
Flint—his revolver relic—had been left by the player Faranir for his grandson.
Faranir had given Garde a Hunter’s relic and pushed him toward the Huntress Goddess, hoping the god would answer.
But Garde had waited his whole life.
The Huntress never answered.
And in the end, crushed by guilt and failure, Garde had arranged the notebook as bait, left his trail, and used Flint to end his own life.
Ethan guessed Flint had been logged as evidence—stored in a courthouse or precinct.
Somehow, over decades, it had drifted into the hands of an Abyss-aligned Hunter.
Ethan killed that Hunter on Moonshadow Island and became Flint’s new owner.
Now, with the autobiography and notes in hand, Ethan learned the part no one had told him:
Flint could be upgraded.
Not “maybe.”
Not “theoretically.”
Faranir had designed it to climb as high as a fifth-tier relic, if you used the correct inscription method. He’d even written the upgrade craft plainly for Garde.
Garde never got to use it.
Ethan would.
And he had to.
Flint was originally second-tier… and Ethan had already advanced to second-tier himself.
If he didn’t upgrade Flint soon, he’d hit a wall. A relic too low to carry him further.
One of the required materials, according to the inscription recipe, was a wild berry common outside Windrest City.
So Ethan walked.
He gathered.
And he planned.
A soft patter of paws followed him through the trees.
He stopped and looked back.
A familiar black cat blinked up at him with gold eyes.
“Ah—caught me,” Skye said brightly, brushing against his leg.
“I caught you the moment you got close,” Ethan replied. “We’re under contract. Did you forget?”
Skye’s ears flicked. “Right.”
She pounced on a passing butterfly, missed, and hopped in front of him, tail swishing.
“You’re going back to Windrest City? I’ll go with you.”
Ethan crouched and stared at her. “Say what you mean.”
Skye’s whiskers twitched. “Fine. You’re taking back roads. Trouble?”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed, and something clicked into place.
“You know the one you want dead?” he said quietly. “He wants me dead now.”
Skye’s expression didn’t change.
She smiled—too pleased, too eager.
“How about,” she purred, “we kill him together?”