Chapter 242 (Patreon)

Suri’s disappointment clung to her like a cold mist as they left the cloth shop, her earlier excitement dissolving into a quiet, stubborn pout. The store had once been one of the finest in town, at least in her memory, a place of bright colors and fine stitching, but time had thinned its splendor, leaving behind shelves of ordinary fabric and forgettable cuts.

She wasn’t sure if it had something to do with the season. In the end, they settled for a few sets of simple sleeping clothes, practical things. Elle followed beside her, still cheerful, while Monde walked a step behind them.

They drifted into the market square, where noise and scent tangled in the air like woven thread. Suri’s mood shifted the moment she saw the fruit stall. Her eyes lit, and she crossed the distance in quick strides, stopping before a basket filled with small brown fruits, some round, others long and oblong, their skins rough and earthy. These were the southern snacks, the kind the capital had rejected, too strong for polished tongues, too wild for delicate tastes.

She peeled one with ease. The outer skin fell away to reveal a darker core, brown with faint gray speckles, its scent sharp and strange. Without hesitation, she lifted it toward Elle.

“Say ahh.”

Elle laughed and leaned forward, obedient as a child, taking a bite. For a heartbeat, her face twisted in confusion, lips tightening, eyes narrowing. Then the expression shifted, unfolding into surprise, then delight.

“Strange,” she said slowly, chewing. “Very sour, but sweet too… and spicy. All at once.”

She swallowed, then brightened.

“Can I have another?”

Most people spit it out when they first tasted it. Suri blinked, genuinely startled, then laughed as she peeled a second fruit and handed it over. This was the taste the capital had rejected, the flavor the merchants had abandoned because they didn’t really sell well.

“It’s good, right?” Suri asked, needing the confirmation.

Elle nodded quickly. “Really good. Especially in this cold. It feels like my body’s warming from the inside.” She turned toward Monde, eyes bright. “Sir Monde, want to try one?”

“I’ve tasted it before,” Monde said, his face tightening in remembered discomfort. “I can’t tolerate its flavor.”

Suri snorted. “For a tank role, you have a very delicate taste. Sir Monde.”

Monde simply shook his head. Elle giggled, the light sound made Monde face blushed in shameness as if he showed a sign of weakness.

Suri turned to the merchant, a middle-aged man beneath a thick, worn hat, his hands rough with work. “We’ll buy everything you have.”

His surprise was immediate, eyes widening before breaking into a broad smile as he hurried to pack the entire basket. “Of course, dear customer!”

“I’ll store some in Kana,” Suri muttered to herself.

“Store?” Elle asked, tilting her head.

“I mean give it to her,” Suri said quickly. She coughed, “She likes this too.”

It was a lie. Kana couldn’t stand the taste. But Suri was already thinking of the invisible storage, the way time froze inside it, the way freshness was the same before you placed it.

….

With nothing else demanding their attention. Toby insisted that exploring a town with someone who already knew every corner of it was a crime against curiosity itself, and Roy, easily persuaded by the promise of unfamiliar bones and strange structures, followed along without protest.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

The sound of hammer striking metal rang through the blacksmith district like a relentless heartbeat, each blow echoing against stone and anvil, filling the air with heat, smoke, and the sharp scent of iron. Sparks burst like brief stars with every strike, scattering across the dark floor before dying in silence. 

Toby yawned wide enough to show his teeth as he sat on a worn bench beside Roy, Adam, and Andel, the rhythm of the forge lulling him into a half-awake haze.

Leo returned from speaking with one of the blacksmiths, wiping soot from his hands as he approached, “They said it’ll take a few hours to finish all of them,” he said.

A few hours.

That was like an eternity for Toby if they stay doing nothing.

“Since we’re free,” Toby said, flashing a grin, “should we check out this little town?”

They wandered for half an hour through narrow streets and quiet alleys, past shuttered windows and closed doors, past lifeless stalls and empty corners. Roy eventually broke the silence with a grunt of disappointment.

“There’s nothing here,” Roy said flatly. “Not even interesting bones. The [Barbarian] nomad camp was way better.”

Andel forced a polite smile. “That only applies to you. I actually prefer this town.”

Compared to the capital, this town felt like a place holding its breath. Few people walked the streets, and fewer still lingered outside. Most homes were closed tight, shutters drawn, warmth guarded behind thick walls. The old saying whispered through Toby’s mind: southerners hid when winter came. And for the first time, it felt less like a saying and more like a rule of survival.

Then—

A sudden crash shattered the quiet.

A large wooden crate tumbled from above, splintering as it struck the ground, and four men burst into the street, sprinting past them in panic. Blood streaked their clothes. Bruises darkened their faces. Their movements were frantic, desperate, and uncoordinated.

Toby’s instincts ignited instantly as if he found a new interesting toy.

“My guts are telling me—” he shouted, pointing, “they’re thieves!”

Leo hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Toby grinned. “Of course not.” He paused, then added, “But let’s capture them anyway and ask them or bring them to the guards.”

Before, they might have ignored it. Walked past. Pretended not to see. But after surviving high-ranking dungeons and facing monsters that reshaped fear itself, the supposedly scary men looked fragile to them.

Roy calmly set down his large basket-like casket and placed a hand upon it.

“Interesting bones I mean people…” he muttered, eyes gleaming. “[Raise Undead x1].”

The bones inside twisted and shifted, snapping into place like a grotesque puzzle assembling itself. In seconds, a full human skeleton stood upright, empty eyes glowing faintly, blade clutched in its hand, dried blood still staining the edge.

Roy tilted his head. “We can kill them, right?”

Toby, Leo, and Andel froze.

“No!” they shouted together.

Roy laughed softly at their expressions.

The fight ended almost before it began.

Toby, despite having no technique, no form, no discipline, simply kicked and punched one man into the ground, overwhelming him with raw strength alone. Leo and Andel moved with shocking speed, their bodies lighter without armor, their strikes precise and controlled. Each blow was clean, efficient. Two men fell unconscious in seconds.

They checked their bodies quickly afraid they had overdid it, relief washing over them when they felt breathing, faint but steady.

The last men collapsed to their knees, terror hollowing their faces as they stared at Roy’s summoned skeleton, its blade raised, unmoving, silent, merciless.

He begged.

Not to the boys.

But to the thing that did not breathe.

The skeleton stood still.

Watching the man pleading with his life.

….

The townsfolk did not argue when they asked about them. They did not demand proof. They did not even ask many questions. They simply pointed them toward the baron’s house, faces tight with unease, as if the captured men carried a kind of danger that did not need explanation. 

Strangers, after all, were easier to fear than neighbors. Roy casually suggested torture as a method of extracting answers, his voice light and almost curious, but Leo stopped him immediately. There was no authority in their hands, no right to decide guilt or punishment. And there was always the possibility, however small, that they were wrong. That these men were not criminals, only desperate fools who had chosen the wrong moment to run.

The baron’s estate loomed ahead, heavy stone and iron gates rising from the ground like a fortress grown from the earth itself. As they approached, two familiar figures were stepping out.

Boris stood tall, Thorne perched on his head, her tail swaying lazily like a banner in the wind. Beside him was Kier, who froze mid-step when he saw the battered men being dragged forward.

Kier's eyes widened. Then he laughed.

“Well,” Kier said, “our teamwork is better than I thought. You captured the ones who escaped us.”

Toby straightened, pride swelling in his chest. “I told you my guts are never wrong,” he said, grinning. “These guys are criminals, right?”

Kier nodded slowly. “Most likely. It still needs verification. But they’re with the man who entered our inn before and got captured. Terd. That’s his name, if I remember correctly.”

Andel exhaled, defeated. “I hate to admit it,” he said, pulling a few coins from his pocket and handing them to Toby, “but you were right. This time around.”

“You bet on that?” Boris muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He then leaned close to Toby though, whispering. Curious how much coin he had won.

Kier stepped forward and took hold of the ropes. “Leave them to me. I’ll deliver them to the guards personally.”

“You just want the credit,” Boris grunted.

Kier smirked. “This is what you call adult responsibility…. and benefits.”

As Kier walked away with the prisoners, Boris turned his head toward Leo, studying him with narrowed eyes and a crooked grin.

“I think,” Boris said slowly, “you should change your escort soon.”

Leo only laughed. Because now, at last, Boris had seen the truth of him.

Post note:A bit short but the next scene is a bit different so I think it's better to place it in the next chapter.

After effects of someone who raided a high level dungeon(at least for the boys)

Was Roy really serious or not?Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂