“How about... Jeffry, Henry, and... Bob?”

  Pell stirred from his skeletal slumber, his soul flames flaring wide. The bed in front of him was empty now, the blanket drooping partially onto the floor. To his left, Enya stood, facing the three skeletons who were all sitting cross-legged on the ground.

  “No... how about Stupid One, Stupid Two, and Stupid Three?” she muttered. Her head tilted thoughtfully as she scrutinized the first skeleton. “Well... wait. The three of you are made from my mana, so you can’t be stupid...—then how about Pretty One, Pretty Two, and Pretty Three!” she exclaimed, as if solving an impossibly complex riddle.

  “Kid, what are you doing?” a voice called from behind her.

  Enya turned to see Pell fully awake now, his soul flames flickering lazily.

  “Morning!” she chirped, running over to throw her arms around him.

  Pell flinched, raising both hands in surrender. “Gah... Kid, since when did you get so clingy?”

  She beamed up at him. “Ever since you gave me a piggyback ride yesterday!”

  Pell winced, letting out a sigh. “Alright, alright. Get off already,” he grumbled, gently prying her arms away. “So, what’re you doing up so early?”

  “Early?” Enya blinked, tilting her head. “It’s 1:00 p.m. You already missed breakfast. Well—you don’t actually eat, which is good. Because you also just missed lunch.”

  “What?” Pell exclaimed. “It’s already 1:00 p.m.?” He shuffled over to the window, yanking the curtains open. Sure enough, bright sunlight poured into the room, confirming her claim. “How the hell did I oversleep…” he muttered.

  Turning back to the skeletons, Enya continued as if uninterrupted. “Anyway, I’m trying to come up with names for these three. I’m having a hard time, though. They’re all made from my mana, not anyone else’s bodies, so it feels like they need awesome names.”

  Pell eyed the trio skeptically. From their sitting posture, they almost looked like kids waiting for storytime. “When did you even have the time to summon them?” he asked.

  “When I went to sign up for the tournament with Berry and Manny. They needed me to do some kind of fighting test, so I had them give me mana potions to summon these three,” Enya explained, tapping a finger to her chin. “Maybe... Enya 1, Enya 2, and Pell the 2nd?”

  Around ten minutes passed as Enya kept brainstorming names for her skeletons. Meanwhile, Pell busied himself organizing his inventory. He sorted through the gold he’d earned, Enya’s spell circuits, and a few other odds and ends.

  “Hey, Pell,” Enya piped up.

  “What?” he replied without looking up, still rummaging.

  “Do you think we can go and, like... kill something?”

  Pell froze mid-motion, retracting his arm from the swirling void of his inventory. His soul flames flared in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, the tournament’s in one day, right? I thought we could go find something to kill, so I can get more soul energy. My mana’s really low, but I can fix that by killing things and converting soul energy instead!”

  Pell scratched the back of his skull, a faint scraping sound accompanying the motion. “What about your spell circuit? Don’t you need to practice that thing too?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll learn it in time,” Enya admitted with a shrug. “I was thinking of just... tracing the circuit into The Grim Pullet and activating it from there during the tournament.” She paused, her brow furrowing. “That’s... not cheating, is it?”

  Pell shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a mage. Ethics isn’t my field. What I do know is that some mages use spellbooks to prep circuits ahead of time. They pre-record spells, imbue them with mana, and use them instantly when needed. I think it’s usually a one-time deal, but don’t quote me on that. Don’t know if it’s allowed for your tournament.”

  “Oh... so people do cheat,” Enya said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “But couldn’t someone just write a book with, like, 100 spells and use them all at once? If I had more time, couldn’t I just fill a hundred pages with bone spears and skeleton summons and instantly win every fight?”

  “No,” Pell said flatly. “That’s one of the biggest misconceptions about spellbooks—or so a mage once told me as he tried to sell off a spellbook to me in another town. You can’t just cram a hundred spells into a single book. A normal book wouldn’t handle it. The whole thing would disintegrate. Even recording one spell can strain a regular book. For what you’re talking about, you’d need a specially made spellbook, and those don’t come cheap.”

  Pell looked up and pondered. “I’ve come across a spellbook or two in my time. A basic one that can hold up to ten spells costs at least 100 gold. While you could technically buy ten blank books and record one spell in each, lugging all that around is ridiculous. Besides, most regular books can’t handle anything too strong. Quality over quantity is the rule when it comes to spellbooks.”

  “What about The Grim Pullet? It’s special,” Enya asked.

  “Don’t,” Pell said firmly, his soul flames narrowing. “That thing is soul-bound. It’s part of you now, which is why you can summon it anytime. Even if it’s ultra-rare or strong, I wouldn’t push its limits. Overload it, and you might kill yourself in the process.”

  “Eh?” Enya whimpered, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. “Th-the book can kill me?”

  “It’s a soulbound item, so there’s always a risk,” Pell said, his voice carrying a rare note of seriousness. “That thing is tied to you. If it gets destroyed, it’ll take a chunk of your soul with it. There are plenty of stories in history about great leaders and warriors meeting their end because their soul-weapons were broken.”

  Seeing Enya’s expression falter, he softened his tone. “But if you want to be sure, you could go to the magic association. They’ve got a service where they test a book’s magic capacity. They’ll gradually infuse mana into it and stop right before it hits its limit. That way, you’ll know how much it can handle. It costs about five or ten gold, though.”

  “O-okay…” Enya murmured. She mulled over his words. If this was something she needed to do, it would have to be today, before the tournament. The spell circuit she’d received was complex—too complex to fully master in just a day. Her best option was to record it in The Grim Pullet and rely on the book during the tournament.

  “Alright, but what about finding something to kill? I still need soul energy,” Enya pressed.

  Pell tapped a bony finger against his chin. “We could hit up a hunting ground dungeon, if you’re that eager. I think we can pull some strings with the city to get access. Might even make a bit of coin while we’re at it.”

  “What’s a hunting ground dungeon?”

  “It’s like a regular dungeon, but without a boss or anything major. Just a big area filled with monsters. Lower-tier ones usually have small creatures or animal-types, like horned rabbits or acid slimes. We’d register through the adventurer’s guild, go in, kill the monsters, and gather materials to sell back to the guild. Acid slimes, for example, are great for their adhesive properties,” he explained.

  “Ooooooh,” Enya said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Then let’s go! I want to kill a wabbit!”

  Pell rubbed the back of his skull, debating. He still needed to keep an eye on Enya, at least until he could contact her family. If she was dead set on going, he’d have to tag along. Selling materials from the dungeon wouldn’t make them rich—probably a few silvers at most—but it was better than nothing. He still had to wait for several days to hear back from the information guild, and Clament.

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  “Alright, alright. We’ll go,” Pell said, holding up a bony hand to cut off Enya’s excitement. “But first, we’re getting you some proper armor or a defensive artifact. You’re just a kid, and most people don’t start adventuring until they’re teenagers, no matter how strong their spells are.” He raised a finger for emphasis. “And another thing—you listen to everything I say. No wandering off, no doing your own thing. You stick close to me. If you die, I’m probably dead too—for letting it happen in the first place.”

  Enya clasped her hands in front of her chest, eyes wide with determination. “Okay! Got it! Listen to you, and don’t die!”

  Pell sighed, his soul flames flickering in resignation. “This is not going to end well,” he muttered, glancing at the over-eager girl.

  The two of them, accompanied by Enya’s three skeletal summons, descended the stairs to the inn’s main floor. As they reached the bottom, a familiar figure came into view, seated at a table and finishing the last bite of what looked like a lamb leg.

  “Jackelyn!” Enya shouted, pointing dramatically at the man.

  The figure arched a brow and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Josier, actually.”

  “What are you doing here?” Pell asked as the group approached the table.

  Josier took a swig from his mug before replying. “Lorrin sent me to keep an eye on you two and assist where needed. Technically, Clament ordered Lorrin, who then passed it down to me. So here I am.” He gestured at their group. “You five headed somewhere?”

  “The adventurer’s guild! I want to kill some things to get ready for the tournament!” Enya declared with enthusiasm.

  “No, we’re not,” Pell corrected sharply, cutting her off. “First, we’re getting you something to protect yourself. Then we’ll head to the hunting grounds. Which, actually, works out perfectly.” He turned his gaze to Josier. “You can help us secure a spot, right? And maybe keep any of the guild’s more unsavory types from trying to attack us skeletons?” He motioned to himself and the three summons.

  Josier leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Of course. Despite my sloppy apperance, I’m still an officer of the city—a high-ranking one, at that. Not as high as Nakrin, but high enough. Nobody will mess with you while I’m around.”

  Pell’s soul flames narrowed skeptically. “Nakrin… What happened to that guy, anyway?”

  Josier sighed. “He’s… undergoing re-education. It’s to help him follow orders more effectively. Nakrin has always been strict with rules and adept at using them to his advantage. I know he hasn’t made the best impression on you two, but he has the highest arrest rate for criminals in the city. Not much crime happens with him in charge.” He paused, then quickly added, “Of course, some cases still slip through the cracks. For that, I apologize for his actions, Mr. Pell.”

  Pell waved him off, his bony fingers clacking. “Whatever. Just as long as we don’t see him again.”

  Josier nodded. “Mind if I accompany you all? I know of a trinket store with all sorts of useful items that may aid you.”

  “Trinkets?” Enya asked.

  “Protection rings, regenerative ointments, smoke bombs, invisibility pills—pretty much anything that’ll help in a dungeon,” Josier explained.

  “That works with us. We’ll take you up on your offer then.” Pell said.

  “Perfect. Let’s get moving.” Josier stood and walked with the five of them, right after placing some copper pieces to pay for his lunch.

  “Featherstep boots,” the shopkeeper said, holding up a pair of small, white boots with winged designs embroidered on the sides like a bird’s. “These let ya run faster and jump higher by makin’ your body lighter. If you’re quick enough, you can kick off the ground and dash around like a wild hare. They’ll let ya drop five feet without trouble, but from ten feet or higher, the effect weakens, and you’ll fall normally.”

  “Ooooh! Can I fly with them?” Enya asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

  “‘Fraid not, missy. These here are copper-tier gear. Flight equipment is diamond-tier and up,” the shopkeeper replied.

  This was Pertsavan, the shopkeeper Josier had recommended. A stout dwarf with a scraggly voice and a faint accent, he was dressed in a simple but well-tailored gray tunic. His hair was messy, but his sharp expression and detailed explanations gave off the air of a professional. He sat perched on a stool, patiently walking them through the various items on display.

  “How much for the pair?” Pell asked.

  “Four gold,” Pertsavan answered matter-of-factly.

  “Gold? For a copper-tier item?” Pell asked, his skepticism evident.

  “The reason’s simple,” Pertsavan replied. “It’s a persistent item. These boots’ll always have the effects as listed—no mana required, no need for charging or maintenance.”

  “Hm…” Pell muttered, his bony hand scratching his jaw. The boots seemed useful—perfect for helping the kid run away from trouble or climb up a tree if things got dicey. But four gold pieces? That was a steep price for gear meant to keep Enya alive.

  Enya noticed Pell’s hesitant expression and turned to the shopkeeper. “Do you have anything cheaper? Just something simple would work.”

  Pertsavan gave a thoughtful hum. “If yer headin’ to the hunting grounds, I might have somethin’ better suited for ya.”

  The dwarf hopped off his stool and disappeared into the back room.

  The store they were in was cozy, tucked away just a few minutes’ walk from the merchant’s square. Glass cases lined the walls, displaying an array of artifacts, trinkets, and curious items. Some had price tags ranging from a few silver pieces to hundreds of gold. Others bore no listed price, just a tag that read ‘speak to the owner.’ The air had a faint metallic tang, perhaps from the latent magic emanating from the various enchanted items.

  “This should be helpful for yer quest,” Pertsavan said as he returned, carrying two items in his hands. He placed them carefully on the counter: a pair of black gloves and a small badge with a circular clip.

  “What are these?” Enya asked, leaning closer with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

  The shopkeeper spread the items apart with a grin and pointed to the gloves first. “These are barrier gloves. Simple to use. Just put ’em on, raise yer hands—both of ’em, mind ya—and channel a bit of mana. A two-foot circular barrier forms right in front of ya. The mana efficiency ain’t great, but it’s faster than learnin’ barrier spells, and it skips the cast time. Won’t stop somethin’ too powerful, but it’ll block a punch or an arrow just fine.”

  Pertsavan shifted his attention to the second item—the badge-like object. “And this here is a white spark badge. Simple to use: just hold it up and give it a squeeze, and it’ll release a giant flash of white light. Be warned, though—it’s extremely bright. If ya look at it when it goes off, even with yer eyes closed, you’ll risk blindin’ yourself. So I recommend lookin’ away when you use it. Great for disorientin’ enemies or causin’ a distraction.”

  “Oooooh,” Enya marveled, her eyes wide with wonder.

  “And how much for these?” Pell asked, leaning in to inspect the items more closely. The gloves looked decent—crafted from some kind of soft fabric. The badge, however, had a rugged appearance, made of hardened leather with intricate, seemingly random engravings etched into its surface.

  “Gloves are 68 silver. Badge is one gold and 17 silver,” Pertsavan replied.

  “The badge costs more than the gloves?” Enya asked, tilting her head.

  Pertsavan leaned forward on his stool, resting his elbows on the counter. “I’m tellin’ ya—the light’s no joke. I ain’t kiddin’ when I say this thing could blind someone, even a powerful mage or a seasoned war paragon. Honestly, it’s bronze-tier, but I think it deserves to be silver-tier. It’s that effective.” He leaned back again, spreading his hands. “No matter how strong someone is, their eyes ain’t immune to somethin’ this bright.”

  As Enya slipped on the gloves to test their fit, Pertsavan added, “Ah, almost forgot to mention—if ya have a special eye skill, one that uses mana somehow, or if you’ve got mana-infused glasses or somethin’ like that, you’ll be fine. Won’t need to worry about blindin’ yourself.”

  “Alright, alright. We’ll take them,” Pell said with a sigh, clearly reluctant about spending his money. “Kid’s got glowing eyes, and, well… I don’t even have eyes. The gloves’ll be useful too, since she doesn’t know any shielding spells yet.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Pell opened his spatial inventory and pulled out two gold pieces, placing them on the counter.

  Pertsavan grinned and grabbed the coins with practiced ease before hopping off his stool and heading to the back to fetch the change.

  Meanwhile, Enya carefully slid the black gloves onto her hands. They were soft, almost delicate—like they might tear if she wasn’t careful.

  A moment later, Pertsavan returned and climbed back onto his stool. He slid the change across the counter toward Pell, who reached to collect it. But before he could, Enya piped up beside him.

  “Hey, can we get the boots too? They’re so pretty! And I really like them!”

  Pell winced, shaking his head. “Those boots cost four gold pieces. That’s way too expensive. We need money to live, you know,” he said, snatching up the change and tucking it back into his spatial inventory.

  “I’ll pay you back!” Enya pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation.

  “You’re broke,” Pell shot back flatly. “A kid like you shouldn’t even think about playing around with money. You would throw away gold pieces just because someone asks you nicely for it.”

  “I’ll…” Enya muttered, her mind racing for a solution. She needed a way to convince him. Then it hit her—Pell was greedy. That was all she needed to remember. “I’ll make Lorrin pay for it! Or maybe that Caroline guy!”

  A sudden fit of coughing erupted from behind them.

  Both Enya and Pell turned to see Josier, who had been quietly standing off to the side. He was doubled over, coughing into his hand, clearly caught off guard by the mention of Lorrin—or the butchered name of Lord Clament. Raising a hand to wave off their concern, he turned away, trying to stifle the sound.

  Pell turned back to Enya, his bony fingers tapping against the counter in thought. It wasn’t a bad idea, honestly. He couldn’t ask Lorrin or Clament himself—doing so would be way too risky. After his antics at city hall, pressing for more favors would only draw suspicion. And the last thing they needed was for Pell to get arrested again for impersonation.

  But Enya? She wasn’t an impostor. She was the real deal.

  Pell sighed deeply. “Fine. I’ll buy the boots. But you better keep your promise. I’m tracking this—with interest,” he warned, begrudgingly pulling out four gold coins and swapping them for the silver change.

  “Yay!” Enya squealed, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

  Pertsavan, still perched on his stool, leaning over onto the counter, watched the scene with a satisfied smile. Another successful sale.