Winter had descended upon Vallenport like a silent blanket.

  Frostember had arrived, bringing with it a layer of pristine snow that transformed the canals into ribbons of crystalline ice. The cobblestone streets disappeared beneath drifts that reached halfway up doorways in some districts, while the twin moons cast an ethereal glow that turned the city into a landscape of silver and shadow.

  In a shadowy alcove of the market district, away from the cheerful bustle of winter shoppers, two figures met in hushed conversation.

  One wore a heavy cloak with a deep hood that obscured all features save for a faint golden glow that occasionally emanated from beneath the shadowed cowl. This was no ordinary citizen of Vallenport, but Seven, a Watcher—a being of immense power and ancient purpose.

  Opposite the hooded figure stood a beastman—one of the burly movers who had delivered furniture to Tavalor's manor months earlier. His bear-like features were tense with apprehension, his thick fur ruffled by the chill wind as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

  'Information,' the Watcher said, his voice like the whisper of silk against steel. 'About the manor's occupant. The one who arrived recently.'

  The beast-man’s ears twitched nervously. 'I don't know much,' he rumbled, his deep voice kept deliberately low. 'Just delivered his furniture, I did. Normal job.'

  'Normal?' The Watcher leaned closer, and a flicker of golden light escaped the hood. 'There was nothing normal about it. You felt it, didn't you? The presence?'

  A pouch of coins appeared in the Watcher's gloved hand, the clink of metal against metal unnaturally loud in the quiet alcove. 'For your troubles,' the Watcher continued, letting the pouch dangle invitingly.

  The beast-man’s eyes locked onto the gold, his hesitation plainly visible in the twitch of his whiskers and the flex of his clawed hands. 'Not enough,' he growled after a moment. 'Not for this.'

  Without comment, the Watcher produced a second pouch, heavier than the first. The beast-man’s resolve visibly wavered.

  'His name,' the Watcher insisted. 'Tell me his name.'

  When the third pouch appeared, the beast-man’s resistance crumbled entirely. He snatched the gold and tucked it hastily into his coat. 'Tavalor,' he muttered, as though the name itself might summon its owner. 'Lord Thomas Tavalor, he called himself. Southern noble, supposedly. '

  The effect on the Watcher was immediate and startling.

  A surge of golden light blazed from beneath the hood, illuminating the alcove with sudden brilliance. The beastman stumbled backward, alarmed, but the Watcher seemed not to notice, lost in the revelation of the name.

  'Tavalor,' the Watcher repeated, the name clearly holding some profound significance. 'Are you certain?'

  'That's what he said,' the beastman replied, visibly uncomfortable now. 'Can I go?'

  'Tavalor,' the hooded figure repeated, the word carrying an almost reverent quality. 'After all this time...'

  The beastman, sensing that something far beyond his understanding was unfolding, took the opportunity to slip away into the snowy marketplace, the weight of gold in his pockets a poor comfort against the chill of foreboding that had settled in his bones.

  As he turned a corner, a flash of golden light flickered though his eyes, the memory of the interaction forgotten, but the chill foreboding still remained.

  ***

  Later that same night, deep beneath the cobbled streets of Vallenport, the Watcher descended into a hidden chamber. The walls were inscribed with golden runes that pulsed with a steady, hypnotic rhythm, casting eerie shadows across the circular space.

  At the centre stood a stone pedestal upon which the Watcher placed an object of remarkable beauty and terrifying power—a book bound in gold, its cover embossed with symbols of an age long past.

  The book resembled the one used by the Nameless Boy in a previous encounter, but this was clearly its full form—more ornate, more powerful, and infinitely more dangerous. The runes covering its surface seemed to shift and change even as one looked at them, and when the Watcher opened it, a faint humming filled the chamber, like the distant song of celestial spheres.

  'Master?' A nervous voice broke the reverent silence. Three apprentices had gathered at the edges of the chamber, their golden robes marking them as servants.

  The Watcher did not look up from the golden book, fingers trailing over its pristine pages with something akin to affection. 'Names,' he said, his voice echoing strangely in the confined space, 'hold power in the ancient system. Before we structured magic, before we bound it with rules and circles, names were the primary conduit of power. To know a true name was to hold dominion over its bearer.'

  The apprentices exchanged uneasy glances as the Watcher continued.

  'We have tried conventional methods against this anomaly. We have sent shadows, we have employed direct force. All have failed.' The Watcher's tone hardened. 'But now we have his name—his true name—and with it, we shall bind him. We shall curse him. We shall remove this troublesome variable from our equations.'

  The watcher opened his mouth. His tongue was long, black and forked. He spat and a deep blackish ink appeared on the page. The spit was blackish. A black so dark that it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. 'The ink of binding,' The scent that wafted forth was metallic and ancient, like blood spilled on sacred ground.

  The ritual began with a low chant, the Watcher's voice resonating with the humming of the book as he carefully inscribed the name 'Tavalor' on the ink covered page. As he wrote the strange ink seemed to sink into the golden paper like water into parched soil, spreading outward in intricate patterns that formed a complex binding symbol.

  As the ritual progressed, magical energy began to build within the chamber. The runes on the walls pulsed faster, brighter, their golden light intensifying until it was almost painful to behold. The air grew thick with power, making it difficult to breathe, and the very stones beneath their feet began to vibrate with tension.

  All three of the apprentices started to bleed from their orifices. 'Master,' one of the apprentices ventured, voice quavering with fear, 'the energy levels are too much. Perhaps we should—'

  'Silence!' The Watcher snapped, not looking up from his work. 'The binding must be complete. The anomaly must be contained.'

  But something was wrong. The magical energy, instead of focusing on the book as intended, began to swirl chaotically around the chamber. The walls shook more violently, and cracks appeared in the stone, leaking golden light like blood from a wound.

  Then, with a thunderous crack that seemed to split reality itself, the magic reversed direction. Instead of flowing outward to bind Tavalor, it surged back toward the Watcher with terrible force. Golden light engulfed him, flooding into his body through every orifice—eyes, nose, mouth, ears—as he screamed in agony.

  The apprentices fled in pain and terror as the chamber began to collapse around them, the reverberating magic too powerful, too chaotic to contain. The last glimpse they had of their master was of his form bent backward at an impossible angle, his mouth stretched wide in a silent scream as his own power was forcibly extracted.

  Miles away, in his manor, Tavalor felt a brief tingling sensation, like static electricity dancing across his skin. He looked up from the book he was reading, momentarily puzzled, before a system notification appeared:

  ===System Notification===

  Hostile magical binding attempted. Failed. Target identified.

  ================

  'Interesting,' Tavalor murmured, his eyes narrowing. Someone had tried to curse him, to bind him through magic. The attempt had failed, of course—his [Ancient Scales] provided near-perfect protection against all magic damage. But the very attempt was interesting. Few in this world would have the knowledge, let alone the power, to attempt such a binding.

  Little Shadow chirped questioningly, tilting its head.

  'It seems we've attracted unwanted attention,' Tavalor explained, scratching under what might be considered Little Shadow's chin. The shadow creature leaned into the touch, purring in a way that somehow sounded both shadow-like and distinctly cat-like.

  Tavalor frowned slightly, then returned to his reading with a shrug. Whoever it was had clearly posed no real threat.

  Back in the ruined chamber, the dust settled slowly to reveal a changed scene.

  Where the powerful Watcher had stood now lay a small, frail form—a young boy, his body emaciated and weakened almost to the point of death. The magical backlash had stripped away not only his power but his very identity, forcing him back into this new, vulnerable human form.

  The golden book lay nearby, its pages blackened where Tavalor's name had been written, the paper crumbling to ash at the slightest touch. With trembling hands, the boy reached for it, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

  'Impossible,' he wheezed, his voice now high and childish instead of the commanding tone of the Watcher. 'The name should have worked... unless...'

  A terrible realization dawned on his face, his eyes flickering between normal human brown and the eerie golden glow of the Watcher.

  'A backlash against name-magic,' the boy whispered, horror growing with each word. 'But that would mean... he's more dangerous than we thought. Far more dangerous.'

  With the last of his strength, the boy clutched the damaged book to his chest, his face contorting with hatred and fear. 'This isn't over, Tavalor,' he vowed, his voice barely audible in the empty chamber. 'I'll recover. I'll return. And next time, I'll be prepared for what you truly are.'

  His eyes flashed golden once more before dimming to human brown, the power temporarily beyond his grasp as his weakened body surrendered to unconsciousness.

  ***

  Even though it was snowing outside, it was spring in Tavalor's garden. The plants had taken root, thanks to Little Bee's tending. What had once been an overgrown, neglected space was now a carefully tended sanctuary of rare plants, magical herbs, and exotic trees. At the centre of this botanical wonder stood Tavalor himself observing the situation.

  He was observing a freshly grown sapling.

  It was a regrowth. The original full size tree after being planted had turned black and died. Then this smaller newer sapling had grown in its place.

  The tree stood about waist-high, its slender trunk gleaming with a metallic sheen that caught the morning sunlight. Its leaves were broad and flat, each one glistening as though dipped in liquid gold. Small, unripe fruits hung from its branches, their emerald surfaces already beginning to show hints of the golden hue they would eventually attain.

  Emberfist approached from the manor, her training session concluded for the morning. Sweat still glistened on her brow as she wiped her face with a small towel. She stopped abruptly when she noticed the tree, her eyes widening in recognition.

  'Is that...' she began, stepping closer to examine the sapling. 'It can't be. A Gold Flesh Fruit Tree? They're supposed to be extinct!'

  Tavalor looked up, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. 'Oh? You recognise it?'

  'Of course I do,' Emberfist replied, circling the tree with open amazement. 'Every cultivator knows the legends. The Gold Flesh Fruit was said to increase one's cultivation speed, even potentially breaking through cultivation bottlenecks. But they disappeared centuries ago, supposedly harvested to extinction by greedy cultivators.'

  Tavalor's eyes gleamed with amusement. 'Well, clearly not entirely extinct,' he said, gesturing to the sapling. 'I acquired the seed from a scammy alchemist during my last trip.'

  Emberfist's gaze remained fixed on the tree, her expression a mixture of reverence and suspicion. 'Even if it is real, it takes decades for these trees to produce mature fruit. Most cultivators lack the patience.'

  'Fortunately,' Tavalor replied, brushing soil from his hands, 'patience is something I have in abundance.'

  As he spoke, a small shadow detached itself from beneath a nearby bush and darted toward the tree. Little Shadow, now the size of a small cat, circled the sapling with obvious curiosity, its violet eyes blinking as it examined this new addition to its territory.

  From above, a distinct buzzing sound announced the arrival of Little Bee—a recent addition to Tavalor's growing menagerie of unusual companions. Little Bee was far larger than any natural specimen, roughly the size of a man's fist, with striking black and gold stripes and an unusual intelligence gleaming in its compound eyes.

  It hovered protectively near the tree, its stinger conspicuously displayed whenever Emberfist moved too close.

  'Your pets seem quite interested in your new acquisition,' Emberfist observed, keeping a wary eye on Little Bee. The flying insect had also taken an immediate dislike to her upon its arrival at the manor, and she had the stings to prove it.

  'They're curious by nature,' Tavalor said fondly, watching as Little Shadow extended a tendril to prod gently at the tree's trunk. 'Much like their master.'

  When both companions had moved away from the tree, apparently satisfied with their inspection, Tavalor took the opportunity to use [Appraisal] on the sapling. The system notification appeared immediately:

  ===Golden Body Fruit Tree===

  Evolution of the extinct Gold Flesh Fruit Tree. After surviving over a thousand years, it has evolved to a higher level. Fruits increase the vitality of the consumer by one tier and can break through potential limits.

  Hint: A treasure beyond measure. Guard it well.

  =================

  No wonder that guy in the wolf helmet was so bitter about losing this tree. This is truly a good item. Something that can help you raise your limits by one tier. Think about how many of those old [A-Class] cultivators would fight for this.

  He decided to keep this knowledge to himself for the moment. 'It seems healthy enough,' he said casually, changing the subject. 'How was your training session this morning? Making progress?'

  Emberfist stretched, her healthy curved frame rippling beneath her training clothes. 'Steady progress. I've stabilised at early-phase [B-Class], but the next breakthrough feels distant.' A note of frustration crept into her voice. 'It's always this way—the higher you climb, the steeper the mountain becomes.'

  Tavalor nodded thoughtfully. 'Cultivation is rarely a smooth journey,' he agreed. 'But perhaps...' He glanced meaningfully at the sapling.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Emberfist followed his gaze, understanding dawning on her face. 'You mean to use the fruits to aid cultivation? But they're nowhere near maturity.'

  To her evident surprise, Tavalor reached into his [System Space] and produced a perfectly ripe Golden Body Fruit. It gleamed in the sunlight, its surface the exact shade of molten gold, a small crown of emerald leaves adorning its stem.

  'As I said,' Tavalor smiled, 'I acquired more than just the seed.'

  Emberfist stared at the fruit with undisguised longing. 'Is that... may I...'

  Without a word, Tavalor offered her the fruit. She took it with reverence, cradling it in her palm as though it might shatter at the slightest pressure.

  'A gift,' Tavalor said, 'for your continued loyalty and assistance. Maybe it'll help with that breakthrough you're looking for.'

  Emberfist looked up, her usual hardened demeanour momentarily cracked to reveal genuine gratitude. 'I don't know what to say. This is... this is beyond valuable.'

  Tavalor replied with a dismissive wave. 'Consider it an investment in our partnership. A stronger Emberfist means a stronger ally.'

  She nodded, carefully tucking the fruit away. 'I'll use it wisely. Thank you, Tavalor.'

  As she walked back toward the manor, Tavalor produced another Golden Body Fruit and bit into it casually.

  It tasted better this time around. It was ripe this time. The taste was extraordinary—sweet yet complex, with layers of flavour that seemed to evolve with each chew. More impressive, however, was the surge of energy that flowed through him as he swallowed. He could feel the fruit's essence spreading throughout his body, useless though considering he was at max level.

  Little Shadow chirped inquiringly from near his feet, and Tavalor chuckled.

  'No, my friend, these aren't for you,' he said, patting the shadow creature affectionately. 'Your diet is... somewhat more esoteric.'

  He glanced toward the manor, thinking of his other companion who might benefit from the fruit's properties. 'I should set aside a few for Luneth as well,' he mused aloud. 'She's been struggling to break through to [B-Class] for a long time. This might be exactly what she needs.'

  As if summoned by his thoughts, a crash echoed from within the manor, followed by a string of colourful curses that could only belong to Luneth. Little Bee buzzed excitedly, clearly delighted by the elf's apparent misfortune.

  'Behave yourself,' Tavalor admonished the insect, though his tone was more amused than stern. 'Let's see what trouble our rogue has found this time.'

  With a final glance at the Golden Body Fruit Tree—his latest addition to a growing collection of extraordinary possessions—Tavalor headed toward the manor, unaware that miles away, the ripples of his actions were continuing to spread across Gemworld.

  ***

  In Ark Town, representatives of all the major forces had gathered to investigate the mysterious events in the Veridian Realm. The meeting hall was tense with political undercurrents as delegates from the Imperium Solara, the Elven Continent, Jade Court and the Celestial Dynasty, Merchant Lords from various trade powers; Mage and Adventurers Guild and the rarely seen Dwarven Forgemasters all exchanged wary glances across the polished oak table.

  Gyselda, a tall elven woman with silver hair and the distinctive silver-leaf insignia of Captain Lyrawyn's team pinned to her tunic, stood before the assembled dignitaries. Her slender hands moved expressively as she recounted their harrowing experience.

  'The situation was far more dire than our initial reports suggested,' she explained, her melodious voice carrying clearly through the hall. 'The fog had completely overrun the outer perimeter. By the time we reached the central chamber, half our team had fallen. It turns out the entire realm had been a trap, a setup for Veridian to make a comeback a thousand years later after draining us of our power. '

  The delegates leaned forward, captivated by her account of the mission gone awry. She described the waves of fog, the ancient traps that claimed several lives, and the moment when all seemed lost.

  'Then,' she said, her voice dropping to an almost reverent hush, 'Captain Lyrawyn's friend arrived. A figure wrapped in shadow, wielding power unlike anything I've ever witnessed. With mere gestures, the fog was obliterated. With a wave, we were teleported out.'

  Murmurs rippled through the assembly. The leader of the Imperium Solara delegation, a stern-faced woman with the military bearing of a veteran commander, fixed her gaze on Captain Lyrawyn who sat quietly at the side of the hall.

  This "friend" of yours, Captain,' she said, her voice carrying the cultured accent of the Northern Continent, 'would you care to elaborate on their identity?'

  Captain Lyrawyn met her gaze evenly. 'I'm not sure of his exact name, he changes it every time we meet,' she replied, watching as recognition flickered across several faces. 'Also I'm just guessing, but I think he may be the one who saved us from the Chitari in the Southern Continent.'

  'Are you sure?' The Dwarven representative stroked his intricately braided beard. 'Some also think that this senior may be the one who reportedly destroyed the Free City of Miragos with a single attack?'

  Lyrawyn inclined her head slightly. 'I cannot confirm those particular rumours, as I was not present for that event. But the power I witnessed would certainly make such feats... plausible.'

  The hall erupted into excited whispers. The Imperium commander raised a hand to restore order before continuing.

  'If your assessment is correct, then it would seem this... Senior... has saved Gemworld twice now. First by neutralising the threat of Chitari expansion, and now by preventing Veridian from escaping his realm and devastating our cities.'

  'A most fortuitous senior expert to have on our side,' the elven delegate agreed, the relief in his voice palpable. 'Though one wonders why such a powerful cultivator has remained hidden until now.'

  The discussion shifted to the artifacts recovered from the Veridian Realm. Captain Lyrawyn produced a slender wand crafted from pale wood and inlaid with luminescent crystals—clearly a [B-Class] artifact of considerable value. The Dwarven Twins, Thrainar and Bromlin, displayed matching gauntlets of similar quality, their surfaces etched with runes that glowed faintly in the hall's subdued lighting.

  When attention turned to Huvian Hunicus, the young representative of the Hunicus Clan from Imperium Solara, his face flushed with embarrassment.

  'We, ah, were unable to secure any significant artifacts,' he admitted, avoiding the commander's disapproving stare. 'Our team encountered heavy resistance.'

  A snicker from the dwarven delegation earned a sharp glare from Huvian.

  'At least we returned with our full complement,' he said acidly, 'unlike the Solarinius Clan, who lost both their expedition leader and half their forces.'

  The mood in the hall darkened at this reminder of the mission's cost. Only half of the participants returned.

  The Solarinius Clan, once one of the most prominent families in Imperium Solara, had suffered devastating losses. Their young leader, Tiberius Solarinius, had fallen, along with many of their finest warriors.

  By contrast, the elves were completely intact. Pure luck largely due to Captain Lyrawyn's connection to the mysterious Tavalor.

  Although they had said earlier that anybody was free to enter, the major forces had as always blocked the exits. All of the participants were required to submit some treasures as a fee in order to leave. Even having to give up some treasures, everyone still benefited.

  It was these rich spoils that were the purpose of the delegations discussion.

  After much debate, the delegates reached an agreement on the division of spoils. Each major force would receive a significant percentage of the recovered artifacts and resources, with smaller allocations distributed among the lesser clans and independent teams that had participated in the expedition.

  As the meeting adjourned, the Imperium commander approached Captain Lyrawyn privately.

  'This Senior,' she said quietly, 'do you believe he could be persuaded to align more formally with our interests?'

  Captain Lyrawyn's expression remained carefully neutral. 'In my limited experience, Commander, this Senior aligns with no one but himself. He is... not the sort of cultivator one attempts to control.'

  The commander's lips thinned in displeasure, but she nodded her understanding. 'Then let us hope his interests continue to align with the general welfare of Gemworld. Power of that magnitude, left unchecked and unaligned...' She left the thought unfinished, her concerned gaze drifting toward the window and the vast world beyond.

  ***

  Back at Tavalor's manor, Luneth paced anxiously in the main hall, her slender elven form tense with anticipation. When Tavalor entered, she whirled to face him, her silver eyes wide with excitement.

  'Is it true?' she demanded without preamble. 'You have a Golden Body Fruit Tree? And actual fruits from it?'

  Tavalor raised an eyebrow, amused by her directness. 'News travels fast, I see. Yes, it's true.'

  Luneth's response was unexpectedly emotional. 'You don't understand what this means,' she said, her voice trembling slightly. 'For someone like me, struggling at [C-Class] for years, unable to break through... this could be my salvation.'

  Tavalor studied her for a moment, then reached into his [System Space] and produced not one, but five perfectly ripe Golden Body Fruits. Luneth's eyes widened at the sight, her hands actually shaking as she accepted his offering.

  'Five?' she whispered, staring at the gleaming fruits in disbelief. 'One would have been beyond generous, but five?'

  'Consider it an investment,' Tavalor replied, echoing the words he had used with Emberfist. 'Your skills are valuable to me, but they would be more valuable still at [B-Class].'

  And I can finally give you The Unknown Alchemists Ring.

  Luneth clutched the fruits to her chest, her usual cynicism temporarily replaced by genuine gratitude. 'I don't know how to thank you.'

  'Your continued service is thanks enough,' Tavalor said with a dismissive wave. 'How long would it take you to reach [B-Class] if you eat these fruits?'

  Luneth sighed, putting the fruits away in her pouch. 'A while. I'm deliberately suppressing my breakthrough,' she admitted. 'I want to perfect my foundation first, ensure that when I do advance to [B-Class], my power is as stable and complete as possible.'

  Tavalor nodded, respecting her methodical approach. 'Fair. Too many cultivators rush headlong into advancement, only to discover fatal flaws in their foundation later.'

  'Exactly,' Luneth agreed, clearly pleased by his understanding. 'Besides, there's an upcoming event where a solid [C-Class] peak might actually serve me better than a newly-ascended [B-Class]. The major forces are hosting a banquet here in Vallenport next month—a diplomatic function disguised as a celebration of their "successful" expedition to the Veridian Realm.'

  'Diplomacy?'

  'With all of the recent chaos and changes,' she said looking at Tavalor the cause, 'The world has been thrown into disarray. The established order has been challenged, and new alliances must be formed. With Vallenport now having an [S-Class], the Duke sees this this as Vallenport's opportunity to reposition itself as a major force. No longer just a wealthy port city.'

  Ah, my fault.

  Tavalor's interest was piqued. 'Oh? And you plan to attend?'

  'With your permission, yes,' Luneth replied. 'It would be an excellent opportunity to gather intelligence and establish connections. Many of the attending cultivators will be precisely at my current level—peak [C-Class] or early [B-Class]. They'll be more likely to speak freely with a peer than with someone they perceive as significantly more powerful.'

  Before Tavalor could respond, a piercing scream erupted from behind Luneth. She whirled around just in time to see Little Bee diving toward her, stinger extended and vibrating with obvious intent.

  'Not again!' Luneth cried, ducking frantically as the oversized insect zoomed past her head, missing by inches. Little Bee buzzed around the pouch at her waist, jealous of the fruits that Tavalor had given her.

  Little Bee then circled back, buzzing furiously as it prepared for another attack. Luneth drew her daggers with lightning speed, adopting a defensive stance as the bee charged again.

  This time, the stinger found its mark, jabbing painfully into Luneth's shoulder before she could fully evade. She cursed colourfully in Elven, slashing at Little Bee with her daggers as the insect retreated to a safe distance.

  'Control your pets, Tavalor!' she shouted, her dignity rapidly eroding as Little Bee continued its relentless assault, stinging her in increasingly embarrassing locations. 'This is the third time this week!'

  Tavalor watched the spectacle with barely concealed amusement. 'Little Bee,' he finally called, his tone firm but affectionate, 'that's enough. Leave poor Luneth alone.'

  The bee paused mid-flight, its compound eyes turning toward Tavalor as though considering his command. After a moment's hesitation, it buzzed defiantly and resumed its attack on Luneth.

  'I swear by the Two Moons,' Tavalor said more sternly, 'if you don't stop right now, I'll heal you again.'

  The threat had an immediate effect. Little Bee froze in mid-air, its wings still beating rapidly but its trajectory halted. The memory of Tavalor's healing—a process that had involved restraining the bee and subjecting it to an endless torturous healing session—was clearly still fresh.

  Luneth, now sporting several angry red welts on her exposed skin, glared at the hovering insect. 'I've had enough of this,' she declared, straightening her rumpled clothing. 'If this creature wants to fight, then let's have a proper duel!'

  'A duel?' Tavalor repeated, his eyebrows rising in surprise. 'With Little Bee?'

  'Why not?' Luneth demanded, her pride clearly stung as badly as her flesh. 'Let's settle this once and for all.'

  Little Bee seemed to understand the challenge, buzzing excitedly as it performed a series of aggressive loops in the air.

  Tavalor considered for a moment, then nodded. 'Very well. A duel it is. It might be interesting to see Little Bee's combat abilities properly tested.'

  Match her power level. Tavalor sent a thought to Little Bee. After all Little Bee had been born fairly close to [S-Class]. It would be bullying otherwise.

  They moved to the garden, where Tavalor had established a training area complete with reinforced barriers to prevent damage to the surrounding property.

  Luneth took her position at one end, daggers drawn and expression determined. Little Bee hovered at the opposite end, its stinger gleaming menacingly in the afternoon sunlight.

  'Begin!' Tavalor called, stepping back to observe.

  Luneth moved first, her rogue training evident in the way she dashed forward with blinding speed, daggers weaving an intricate pattern designed to trap and disable her opponent. But Little Bee proved remarkably agile, darting between the slashing blades with ease before zooming past to deliver a painful sting to Luneth's exposed forearm.

  Not much of a contest. Little Bee is much faster after all, even matching her power level. Luneth is gonna lose.

  What followed was less a duel and more a one-sided humiliation. Little Bee seemed to take particular delight in targeting Luneth's posterior, delivering a series of stings that had the elf dancing and cursing in a most undignified manner.

  'Stand still, you accursed bug!' Luneth shouted, her composure completely abandoned as she flailed wildly with her remaining dagger.

  Little Bee responded by buzzing directly in front of her face, so close that its wings nearly brushed her nose, before darting away just as her strike would have connected.

  In desperation, Luneth changed tactics. Ceasing her wild attacks, she closed her eyes and concentrated, channelling her spirit energy into her lower body. A faint shimmer of power surrounded her, and when Little Bee next approached for a sting, she activated her trap.

  A burst of concentrated spirit energy erupted from her, catching Little Bee in mid-flight. The insect buzzed in surprise as the energy engulfed it, momentarily disrupting its flight pattern. With a victorious cry, Luneth struck with her dagger, aiming to break the bee's stinger without killing it.

  Her strike connected, and there was a satisfying snap as the stinger broke off. However, the impact propelled Luneth forward with unexpected force, causing her to lose her balance and crash head-first into the ground.

  When the dust settled, both combatants were in sorry states. Little Bee buzzed weakly on the ground, its broken stinger lying nearby. Luneth lay face-down in the dirt, her dignity as shattered as her weapon—her favourite dagger had broken during the final exchange.

  Tavalor approached, suppressing his laughter as he helped Luneth to her feet. 'I believe we can call that a draw,' he said diplomatically.

  Luneth spat out a mouthful of dirt. 'A draw? That... thing... has been tormenting me and Emberfist for days! And now it's broken my dagger!'

  'And you've broken its stinger,' Tavalor pointed out, gently lifting Little Bee into his palm. 'I think you're even.'

  With a stern look at the insect, he added, 'No more stinging people, Little Bee. I mean it. It's becoming a nuisance.'

  Little Bee managed to look simultaneously defiant and contrite, if such expressions were possible for an insect. It buzzed softly, almost apologetically, before settling more comfortably in Tavalor's hand.

  Luneth brushed dirt from her clothing, her expression darkening as she examined her broken dagger. 'To think I was bested by a bee,' she muttered, the humiliation clearly stinging worse than the venom. 'I need to cultivate more diligently. This is unacceptable.'

  'Look on the bright side,' Tavalor offered, 'once you advance to [B-Class], such encounters will be trivial.

  The reminder of her stalled cultivation seemed to reignite Luneth's determination. 'You're right,' she said, straightening her shoulders. 'I've been too cautious. After the banquet, I'll consume the Golden Body Fruits and break through to [B-Class] without further delay.'

  She paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. 'Speaking of the banquet, I've been considering what gifts might be appropriate to present to the other attendees. As a new arrival to Vallenport's social scene, it's important to make a favourable impression.'

  'Gifts?' Tavalor inquired, genuinely curious. 'What did you have in mind?'

  'Pills,' Luneth replied promptly. 'Medical elixirs crafted from rare herbs and enhanced with spirit energy. Nothing too powerful—that might be seen as presumptuous—but useful enough to be appreciated. I was thinking of basic healing pills, perhaps some minor spirit-enhancing formulas.'

  Oh no, this isn't gonna be good. She's still not a very good alchemist.

  Tavalor considered this and then responded diplomatically. 'Pills might be a bit much. But if you think you can do it, go for it.'

  Luneth smiled, clearly pleased by his endorsement. 'I'll need your help. Gold to get upgrade my alchemical lab, of course. And perhaps a "small budget" for ingredients.'

  Tavalor rolled his eyes. 'Speak to the Butler,' he replied. Tavalor privately hoped she got to [B-Class] as fast as possible so he could give her the alchemists ring. She had blown up the house a few too many times.

  ***

  The next morning, Tavalor was awakened unusually early by the Butler, 'My lord,' the Butler announced with formal gravity, 'there is a situation in the main hall that requires your immediate attention.'

  Tavalor, still half-asleep, raised an eyebrow. 'What sort of situation?'

  'The Lady Luneth appears to be trapped and injured,' the Butler replied, his tone perfectly measured despite the alarming content. 'And there has been significant structural damage.'

  Fully awake now, Tavalor followed the Butler downstairs, Emberfist joining them in the hallway, drawn by the commotion.

  What they found in the main hall was a scene of chaos – half of the grand space had collapsed, the elegant marble pillars reduced to rubble, and a thick cloud of black smoke hung in the air, curiously formed into the shape of an enormous smiley face.

  In the middle of the destruction sat Luneth, her black hair now silver with soot, her robes in tatters, and her expression one of profound dejection. She looked up as they entered, offering a weak wave.

  'What happened?' Tavalor asked, taking in the devastation.

  Luneth sighed deeply. 'I was attempting to refine those pills I mentioned. The furnace I was using turned out to be... unstable.'

  'In the main hall?' Emberfist asked incredulously.

  'No, no,' Luneth explained, gesturing vaguely. 'I detected the instability and was trying to throw it out. But when I reached the hall, I couldn't get past the doorway. There seemed to be some kind of barrier.'

  The butler coughed. All eyes turned to the Butler, who maintained his perfect posture despite the accusatory stares.

  'I may have taken the liberty of strengthening the manor's structural integrity,' the Butler admitted, a hint of smug satisfaction creeping into his tone. 'Given the... frequency of damages caused by the manor's occupants, it seemed a reasonable precaution.'

  'So you trapped me inside with an exploding pill furnace?' Luneth asked, her voice rising indignantly.

  'The barriers are designed to contain magical energies, not individuals,' the Butler corrected. 'Had you not been carrying an inherently unstable magical device, you would have passed through unimpeded.'

  Tavalor suppressed a smile. The Butler, had developed a distinct personality very different to the Blind Watchmaker– he had a certain passive-aggressive streak when it came to maintaining the manor's condition.

  'Can you repair this?' Tavalor asked, gesturing to the collapsed section of the hall.

  'Of course, my lord,' the Butler replied. 'Though I would suggest reinforcing the remaining structural elements first to prevent further collapse.'

  Luneth wasn't listening to this exchange. She sat amid the rubble, staring upward with a blank expression, as if seeing through the ceiling to the sky beyond. The normally composed and calculating elf seemed utterly defeated by this setback.

  'All those ingredients,' she murmured. 'Wasted. And there's not much time left until the Banquet.'

  Tavalor approached, offering her a hand up. 'We'll figure something out,' he said.

  I still have a lot of stuff left over from the Dragon Sanctuary, we can just gift some of those items.

  As they left the ruined hall, the Butler began methodically sorting through the debris, separating salvageable materials from those that needed replacement. Behind them, they could hear him muttering about 'destructive tendencies' and 'the impossibility of maintaining order in a household of high-tier beings.'