Chapter 241 (Patreon)

Kier pressed two fingers hard against his forehead, pushing as if trying to force memory itself to the surface, his brows drawn tight in concentration as his voice sharpened with certainty. “The man who entered the inn before,” he said slowly. “The one who was captured by the nomads. I’ve seen him before.”

Boris, however, barely reacted at first, continuing to walk toward the carriage while absently scratching Thorne’s lower body, his attention divided between the road and the content rumble of the lizard’s relieved posture. Thorne leaned into the touch, eyes half-lidded, clearly enjoying the attention far more than the conversation unfolding beside her.

Kier suddenly halted mid-step, his expression shifting as another memory clicked into place. “Right,” he said, voice tightening. “I saw him with a group of men when I stopped to take a piss before we entered the town.”

Boris paused, blinking as recognition surfaced. “Oh. That time,” he muttered. “What about them?”

“I think they were in a party with him,” Kier said quietly. “Which means most of them are probably still in town. They only captured one.”

Boris’ expression darkened as realization spread across his face. “Then the people in this town are in danger,” he said, his voice losing its casual tone.

Kier turned to him and smiled.

It wasn’t immediately clear what kind of smile it was.

Kind.

Or cruel.

Or simply eager.

“Since we’ve got time,” Kier said lightly, “how about some action?”

Boris stared at him in disbelief. “You know where they are?” he asked. Kier was fast, evasive, slippery as smoke, but tracking had never been his strength.

Kier nodded calmly. “I know their kind,” he said. “They’re easy to find, even in places I’ve never been before. Well…Second time, technically.”

They moved.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Alleyways twisted into alleyways, narrow stone corridors folding into shadowed corridors, the town’s thin outer walls looming closer as the streets grew tighter and more confused. Even Boris began to hesitate, uncertainty creeping into his steps.

“I’m telling you,” Boris muttered, “we’re going to get injured for this. Either Kana. Or worse, Suri, for being late.”

“Hush,” Kier whispered, raising a hand.

He stopped.

His posture stiffened.

His eyes focused.

“It’s here,” Kier said quietly. “The smell. Right here.”

They stood before an inn buried deep in the innermost veins of the alleyways, where the air was thick with old alcohol, sweat, smoke, and rot. The stench alone felt like a warning.

Boris frowned, his nose wrinkling in disgust, while Thorne mimicked his reaction from her perch, tilting her head as if even she could sense something was wrong.

They entered.

The room went quiet.

Almost every man inside turned to look at them, most of them drunk, most of them hardened, their gazes lingering especially on Boris, whose sheer size alone commanded attention, even without his spear.

Kier leaned closer and whispered, “Those men. Over there.”

That was all.

No more words.

No planning.

No hesitation.

They moved.

Kier lunged first, rapier flashing like a silver streak in the dim light, while Boris charged forward like a living battering ram, using nothing but his fists and mass to crash into the group. Thorne, already sensing violence, leapt onto a nearby table and watched, tail coiled, eyes sharp.

The fight exploded.

Tables overturned.

Chairs shattered.

Bodies slammed into walls.

Kier’s blade danced in controlled arcs, precise and brutal, while Boris struck like a storm, each punch carrying the weight of a falling boulder. The rest of the tavern didn’t intervene.

They cheered.

They watched.

They treated it like entertainment.

By the end, chaos littered the floor.

Two men lay unconscious.

Three more were alive but unable to move.

Four had escaped, injured and bleeding into the maze of alleyways.

Five were successfully captured.

Kier straightened, wiping his blade clean. “Let’s give them to the guards,” he said with a grin.

They dragged the prisoners through the streets toward the Baron’s mansion, where startled guards rushed forward at the sight of two adventurers hauling broken men behind them. Well, both of them were giving an aura of a seasoned adventurer not to mention Boris was bigger than Kier. Anyone would mistake them as the same age.

“They’re involved in human trafficking,” Kier said calmly. “And I’m willing to bet they’re wanted.”

He pulled out an enchanted card, its surface glowing faintly as proof of his status. “Name’s Kier. Copper-class adventurer. Contact the guild for confirmation. And for the payment, I mean credits..”

Boris stood beside him in silence, arms crossed, watching Kier with a mix of disbelief and respect.

Boris learned a quiet truth that night:

He thought he helped the townsfolk but now.. Boris sighed. Adults should never be underestimated.

….

Kana paused beneath the worn wooden sign, its faded paint clinging to the board like a memory that refused to leave. The apothecary should have been on the other side. She was certain of it but now it’s gone.

She pushed the door open.

The familiar old woman greeted her with a crooked smile, the kind that came from habit more than kindness. “Welcome,” she said, voice warm, eyes bright.

Then she intensely looked at Kana.

The smile vanished.

Something colder replaced it.

“You’ve changed,” the woman said.

Kana felt the words land, not as accusation, but as observation. The kind that came from someone who had learned to read the world carefully. The old woman probably used her skill [Analyst] to see her current status and probably observed her class was different compared to before. That's why she was hesitating to enter her shop but they had no choice—they must get potions in preparation to kill the dungeon boss.

The old woman left the counter and walked slowly around her, circling once, then again, her eyes tracing invisible lines through Kana’s posture, her breathing, the way her weight rested on her heels. Not inspection. Evaluation.

“Grandma, that’s rude,” her granddaughter said quickly, pulling her back. “I’m sorry, Kana.”

The old woman shook her off. “No. It’s necessary.” Her gaze never left Kana. “She is Kana. But not the same as the one who left a few days ago.”

The granddaughter frowned and scratched her cheeks. “She looks the same to me. Is your eyesight that bad?”

Kana didn’t answer. Some truths couldn’t be explained because they weren’t visible.

“You’re here to buy potions,” the old woman said, ignoring her granddaughter's remarks.

Kana and Yuri nodded.

“I’ll sell you everything,” she replied. Then her voice lowered. “But first, tell me something. How did you break the first great barrier?”

Kana frowned. The words felt familiar but she couldn’t remember where she heard or read of it, “I don’t know what that is.”

The old woman stared at her for a long moment. Then exhaled. “Of course you don’t. I named it myself.”

—Or not. It must be simply Kana’s imagination that it had a meaning somewhere since the old lady claimed she named whatever that was.

The old lady turned and opened a small inner door. “Come.”

Yuri and Kana entered. The room beyond was simple. A bed. A table. A wall covered in diagrams, markings, symbols, notes layered over notes like sediment. The air felt old, dense with years of thought and failure and discovery.

“Sit,” the old woman said.

Kana and Yuri did.

“When I appraise someone,” the old woman said, her voice calm but weighted with years of quiet obsession, “I don’t only see their class. There is more to it than the name.”

She reached beneath the table and drew out a sheet of paper, old and carefully preserved. Written on it was a single word: [Mage], plain and sharp, she didn’t even add the color for the text, just like the system text Kana saw on her status screen.

“This,” the old woman said, lifting it slightly, “is what a class normally looks like.”

Then she lowered it and drew another page.

“The text color is one but most people don’t see the background,” she continued. “But I do. Always have. A color behind the class. It was like a shadow.”

Her eyes lifted to Kana. “Nearly everyone has the same one.”

She turned the page, revealing a dull brown wash behind the class name. Mud-colored. 

“I call it the beginning phase,” she said. “Muddy. Everyone starts there. Even me.”

Her fingers tightened slightly on the parchment.

“Then one day, I met someone different.”

She placed another sheet on the table.

The class name read [Great Vagabond], but behind it burned a soft green glow, luminous and alive, like sunlight through leaves.

“There was no mud,” the old woman said softly. “It was bright green.”

She looked at Kana again. “That man became the guildmaster of the northern kingdom’s branch.”

She leaned back, eyes narrowing with memory. “And there was another. A woman. You wouldn’t know her name. But she was the same. Green. Bright. Class color background.”

Her voice lowered. “They told me neither of them were born that way. Their class was different before.”

“They both told me the same thing,” she said. “At some point, their class changed.”

She placed the parchments side by side. Mud and green. Beginning and breakthrough.

“So I concluded,” she continued, “that the muddy phase isn’t the class. It’s the state of the class. And that there is a threshold.” Her eyes sharpened. “A barrier.”

She tapped the table once,“The first great barrier.”

Her gaze locked onto Kana’s.

“I saw your class before,” she said quietly. “It was muddy. Like everyone else’s.”

Her voice dropped into certainty.

“But now it’s green.”

The room felt smaller. “You crossed it,” the old woman said. “You broke the first great barrier.”

Her eyes searched Kana’s face, not with hunger, but with reverence and frustration intertwined.

“How did you do it?”

Kana laughed. It came out softly at first, then broke into something almost helpless, as if the truth had finally aligned itself in her mind like a puzzle snapping into place.

So many small details. So many ignored patterns. There was no randomness in classes. Not a random chance. They were earned.

“Kana?” Yuri whispered, unease, threading her voice.

Kana wiped at the corner of her eyes and exhaled slowly. Then she looked at the old woman.

“Even if I told you,” she said gently, “you won't be able to do it.”

She turned her head slightly toward the granddaughter. “But she might. One day.”

Her gaze returned to the old woman. “The people you saw with green backgrounds,” Kana said calmly, “they weren’t young. I bet.”

She paused. “Breaking that first barrier takes time. Or madness.”

“I’m simply an exception,” Kana continued quietly. She couldn’t say that her title came with an exp dungeon boost not to mention the dungeon item ring she recently acquired. 

The old woman studied her.

“What an arrogant brat,” she said.

“I can’t tell you,” Kana said, “People will die. Lots of them.”

Not in theory. Not metaphorically. Literally. She could already see it, as clear as a battlefield map. Cities flooding with reckless hope. Adventurers charging into dungeons far beyond their limits. Children chasing power like fireflies in a storm. Blood traded for levels. Lives exchanged for numbers.

And worse than that. The dungeons themselves would change. If everyone hunted them, if everyone tried to harvest them for growth, they would be emptied. And then there would be nothing left to grow from.

The old woman simply grunted.

Silence swallowed the room.

Then Yuri moved.

She had been quiet beside Kana, but now she stepped forward and lifted a hand, pointing toward the far corner of the board.

“What about that?” she asked.

Kana followed her finger.

Her breath stopped.

Pinned to the corner was an old parchment, yellowed with age, its edges curling inward like dried leaves. The ink was faded, but the class name was still legible.

[Frost Wyvern Knight]

Kana’s hand trembled. A chill slid down her spine. She hadn’t noticed it before. Her focus had been locked on the old woman. This was different. The background wasn’t green. It wasn’t muddy. It was burning. A deep, living red, like fire. Like a blood-lit flame.

The old woman’s voice softened.

“That one,” she said quietly, “is from the ageless man I saw more than two decades ago.”

She looked at the parchment with something close to awe.

“They said he was one of the Ten Councils,” she continued. “Not a king. But something similar to a king. One of ten who govern an entire nation of the ageless.”

“The only one I’ve ever seen with a background like that.”She folded her hands behind her back. 

“I don’t know if it’s because of race,” she admitted, “But it is the only class I’ve ever seen that has a red like burning background.”

She looked at Kana,“And I need to see one more to understand what it means. I doubt I can see one again.”

A second class promotion. It was the thought that struck in her mind as she saw the class with a fiery background. She turned her head only to see Yuri frowning at her. She shouldn't have brought her here in the first place. Because there were a lot of questions already she was trying to ask without saying anything. 

Post note:

A bit of a side quest before the big things.. I’ll call it mini Vacation Arc?

Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂