Chapter 193: More Rewards

  Inside a vast, sun-drenched chamber lined with polished stone and silken banners bearing the emblems of the three great Towers, Abel sat alone on a cushioned chair that somehow made him feel even smaller.

  Before him stood the three Magians of Bask—towering figures in their own right, both in stature and presence.

  The sunlight filtering through the stained-glass windows painted them in gold, green, and deep blue hues, casting long, dramatic shadows across the polished floor.

  Abel swallowed hard, acutely aware of the power gulf separating him from the three.

  They studied him with interest, not cold, but calculating—like blacksmiths assessing a promising blade still being forged.

  Breaking the silence was Duskfang, whose booming voice bounced off the chamber walls. "So, kid!" he said with a grin as wide as his shoulders. "What’s the strongest thing you’ve killed so far?"

  Abel blinked, caught off guard by the directness. “A Rank Two… three-headed hellhound,” he answered honestly, unsure if it was impressive by their standards.

  Duskfang let out a hearty laugh, stepping forward with booming approval. “That’s solid! Good job, Stargazer! You keep that up, and maybe one day you’ll be standing up here with us—kicking the asses of those stiff-backed magians from the central region!” His laughter echoed like thunder, his wild energy lighting up the room.

  Abel couldn’t help but smile. There was a warmth to Duskfang, a grounded charisma that made him easy to like.

  From the speech at the inauguration to now, it was clear—he wasn’t just a powerful Magian. He was a leader.

  Without warning, Duskfang reached into his robes and pulled out a small, metallic coin etched with ancient runes and glowing softly with a golden hue.

  He pressed it into Abel’s hand. “Here,” he said. “This is a token. A single-use, stored spell. Use it wisely—it holds the power of a Stage One Magian. It’ll only work once, but it can save your life when it matters most.”

  Abel stared down at the coin, feeling the energy pulsing faintly from it. His chest tightened—not from fear, but from the weight of the moment. He was being acknowledged… truly seen.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly, holding the coin like a treasure. “I’ll make sure not to waste it.”

  “Damn right you won’t,” Duskfang barked with another laugh. “Next time, head down to the Deep South, or even better—peek into that bottomless hole in Bask. You’ll find something nastier to test yourself against.”

  Abel chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders.

  He hadn't expected such a casual, energizing interaction with one of Bask’s most powerful figures. But in Duskfang’s presence, the impossible didn’t seem so far away.

  After Duskfang’s vibrant energy settled like the last echo of a drumbeat, a calmer presence stepped forward.

  Verdant, clad in his flowing green robe, approached with an air of quiet wisdom.

  His tall, ornate headwear glimmered softly beneath the sun’s light, casting a gentle halo around his moss-colored features.

  Where Duskfang burned like fire, Verdant exuded the patience and thoughtfulness of deep roots and slow-growing trees.

  "You've done more than just protect Reinhart," Verdant said, his voice calm but firm, resonating with depth. "Your actions rippled through the entire region. For that, I offer my thanks—and my respect."

  Abel bowed his head slightly, unsure how to respond to such praise from a Magian. But Verdant wasn't finished.

  "Still…" he continued, stepping closer, "courage and strength are only part of the equation. A true apostle must always think several steps ahead. Power means little if it’s wielded without intention. So let this be a reminder."

  From within his robe, Verdant retrieved a sealed scroll wrapped in green twine and humming faintly with energy. He extended it toward Abel with both hands. The young apostle accepted it with reverence.

  "This scroll," Verdant explained, "contains a stored spell—similar in power to the coin Duskfang gave you. It will act once, with the force of a Stage One Magian, when you most need it. But more importantly… it will only activate if you're clear in your purpose. Do not waste it on desperation."

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  Abel looked up, meeting Verdant’s wise gaze. "Thank you. I’ll remember your words. I want to reach your level one day... and stand where you do."

  Verdant gave a faint, approving smile. "Then keep your mind sharp, Stargazer. Not just your blade."

  He gave Abel a final nod before turning to rejoin the other Magians.

  Abel held the scroll tightly, feeling the gentle thrum of magic within it.

  With each encounter, he felt the weight of expectation—but also a growing sense of belonging.

  These weren’t just figures from stories anymore. They were real… and they believed in him.

  As Abel tucked away the scroll from Verdant with care, Stone stepped forward at last.

  Compared to the lively warmth of Duskfang and the grounded wisdom of Verdant, Stone’s presence remained stoic and commanding.

  His robe, a blend of ash-gray and gold, barely shifted as he moved—his aura dense, his expression unreadable as always.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a Tower Master,” Stone said, voice low and steady, “if I let the other two show me up.”

  He held out a small, unassuming object—a smooth pebble, gray and faintly warm in his palm.

  Abel blinked, confused for a moment, before reaching to accept it.

  “It’s the same,” Stone clarified, his tone betraying a trace of amusement. “One use. Stored spell. Equal in strength to a Stage One Magian. But—” his eyes narrowed slightly “—don’t go throwing your weight around just because you’ve stepped into Rank Three. Power without discipline turns men into monsters.”

  Abel nodded earnestly. “I understand. I’ll only use it to protect myself… or others.”

  “Good,” Stone said, satisfied. Then, from another fold in his robe, he retrieved a ring—simple, made of polished stone with runes faintly etched along the band. He handed it to Abel, who slid it onto his finger.

  “That ring,” Stone explained, “isn’t for today. Or tomorrow. But when the time comes, it’ll matter. Don’t lose it.”

  Abel stared at the ring for a moment, feeling a faint pulse of energy hum beneath the surface. He didn’t know what it did yet, but he trusted the gift—and the man giving it.

  “Thank you,” he said sincerely, looking at each of the three Magians in turn. “For everything.”

  Stone gave him a rare nod, a glimmer of something unreadable flickering in his gaze. “You’re dismissed, Stargazer. Return to your quarters, or explore the city. Bask is open to you now. Visit the Tower if you wish—perhaps your new rune will lend itself well to discovery.”

  At that, Stone offered the faintest smile, brief but genuine.

  Abel smiled back, more confident now. “Yeah. I think it will.”

  With that, he bowed to the three Magians—three pillars of the land he now called home—and turned to leave the radiant chamber, the weight of their respect settling on his shoulders like a new mantle. As the doors closed behind him, he couldn’t help but feel something had shifted. This wasn’t just a reward. It was a beginning.

  As the doors closed behind Abel, the room fell into a brief, contemplative silence.

  Verdant was the first to break it, his tone now devoid of ceremony. “So… he’s Rank Three now?”

  Stone, arms folded behind his back, gave a slight nod. “Yes. The star fragment pushed him over the threshold. His rune digestion process was unlike anything I’ve seen.”

  Duskfang raised a thick brow, leaning against the railing that bordered the marble dais. “What about the corruption?” he asked, more seriously than usual. “The stars—especially rogue ones—aren’t always so kind. How’d he deal with it?”

  “He expelled it,” Stone answered simply.

  Verdant’s eyes narrowed. “Expelled it?”

  “Not suppressed. Not counterbalanced. Expelled.” Stone’s voice was calm, but even he couldn’t hide the faint note of disbelief. “He claims it’s tied to his mana pool. That it reacts instinctively, purging corruption before it roots too deep.”

  For a moment, none of the Magians spoke.

  Then Duskfang chuckled, though the mirth didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s not normal.”

  “It’s not,” Stone admitted.

  Verdant turned, pacing slowly across the chamber. “And you don’t think there’s something more to his pool than meets the eye?”

  “There probably is,” Stone replied without hesitation. “But we’ve seen strange cases before. You both remember Apostle Dreamchaser.”

  That name stilled the room.

  “Dreamchaser…” Duskfang repeated, the grin fading from his lips. “He was the one who could slip into dreams—evolve through them like they were real experiences.”

  “Correct,” Stone said. “He grew faster than anyone we’d ever seen. Advanced in months what would take others years.”

  “And then?” Verdant asked, though he already knew.

  “He vanished,” Stone said. “Fell into the dream realm permanently. We never recovered his body. Never saw his soul pass. Just… gone.”

  Duskfang let out a slow breath. “So what are you saying? That Abel might end up the same?”

  “No,” Stone said firmly. “But he’s moving fast. Too fast. That kind of trajectory burns bright—but it also burns out.”

  Verdant crossed his arms. “So what will you do?”

  Stone looked toward the grand doors that Abel had exited moments ago. “I’ll keep a close eye on him. He’s a good one—kind-hearted, powerful, with a strange luck about him. But I won’t let him fly too close to the sun.”

  Duskfang gave a short nod. “Good. We’ve lost too many promising ones to their own brilliance.”

  Verdant’s expression remained unreadable as he added, “Let’s just hope this one doesn’t vanish into the stars.”

  The three Magians stood there in silence, not as rulers or legends, but as watchers of a world in flux, aware that among them, a new force had quietly begun to rise.