Book 5 - Chapter 49 - Traces (Patreon)

“You, stay. Everyone else, out! Tomorrow, your next round will be on me.” The barkeep abruptly barked her orders when Ranthia approached the counter.

The other Hunters that’d been nursing their drinks began to file their way out with varying degrees of enthusiasm while Ranthia tried not to worry about what was happening. Most of her preparations for her departure were going well, and she was just trying to invite the nameless barkeep to the party she was hosting! Yes, she knew that the powerful woman would invariably refuse, but it was still the polite thing to do.

The excessively tall woman left Ranthia by the counter and, once she finished chasing the more lethargic Hunters out—hurling threats at their backs as they scampered away—she closed and barred the door.

Instead of saying a word, the woman just calmly walked back to the bar and seized a barrel from an upper shelf with a single hand. Moments later, two mugs of an unfamiliar dark amber liquor waited on the bar. Potent beverages, given the aroma.

“You’re going with Ranger.” She finally spoke. It wasn’t a question, and the gaze she fixed Ranthia with was utterly unreadable.

“We are.” Ranthia confirmed.

The tall elf regarded Ranthia in silence for a moment, before she grunted and took a long drink from the nearest mug.

“I won’t tell you not to. Even if I did, you’re too fucking stupid to listen, and he plainly believes the plans are set in stone. But I do need to make sure you know what you’re getting into. I doubt any of his enemies will mess with you—believe it or not, he has a darker reputation than even I do among those that truly incite his anger. But that doesn’t mean it’s safe.

“Especially since, as far as the idiots that set foot into my Lodge go, you’re among the best at finding trouble and quite possibly the absolute fucking worst at getting out of it without death and destruction. That won’t always be an option if you get caught up in any of his bullshit. You’re better than most at punching up above your tier, I admit, but I’d hoped interacting with Ranger would have taught you that there are clear limits to what you can accomplish.

“For once in your moronic life, you need to actually be careful. That man isn’t just powerful; he has a nasty habit of forgetting that everyone isn’t at his tier. He’ll throw you into situations you’re ill-prepared for or leave you holding the bag when he fucks something up, just to avoid facing the consequences of his own damned actions. And all of that assumes he doesn’t just get sick of you and abandon you without warning somewhere perilous.” The barkeep paused to savor her drink, giving Ranthia the opportunity to chew on her words.

“I haven’t forgotten my roots. Beneath it all, I’m still an Adventurer. And I still want to see the world—all of it. I’ll be careful, and I’m pretty sure we can manage even if Ranger disappears for a while.” Ranthia didn’t even try to hide her grin. Her own anticipation aside, it was nice to get a rare reminder that the beautiful and terrifying woman actually cared.

The barkeep grunted in reply and waited for Ranthia to finally try a sip from her own mug—burn aside, it went down far more smoothly than it smelled—before she resumed speaking.

“And you are aware that the woman you’ve attached yourself to is lying about both her age and her level?”

“Yes.” Ranthia wasn’t even slightly surprised. Every high-tier elf always seemed to be far too aware of things that should have been impossible to notice—which was one of the things that bothered her most about the Maestro of Conducting. Elsynthene hadn’t appeared at Ranthia’s door since Sylphene arrived.

“Well, it sounds like you think you know what you’re doing. I’ve done my part. We’ll see if you have enough sense to keep yourself alive.” With that, the barkeep drained her own mug and started to walk away.

“I’ll be hosting a party on—” Ranthia had to try.

“And I won’t be attending.” Even if she knew the result.

Compared to her usual life in the City of Arts, the final twenty-four days were incredibly busy. Most of her friends and chosen associations, at the very least, accepted her decision to move on for a time. The City of Arts would forever be a home to her, and she fully intended to revisit it from time to time as she moved on. But there was precious little chance that she would ever again spend decades tied to it.

Sunny was easily the most displeased by the news that Ranthia was moving on. Somehow, the fact that she herself had vanished for decades—with far less warning—was irrelevant. She accepted Ranthia’s decision, she just refused to support it and demanded as much time as Ranthia could give her.

Beyond Sunny’s neediness, Ranthia also had a few final hunts with Anthelleon, Neyvern, and Solareon to squeeze in, preparations for her going away party to manage, supplies to acquire, packing to do, and other farewells and conversations to spend time on. The reality of her schedule meant that the bulk of her waking hours were spent without Sylphene, but she consoled herself with promises for their shared future.

And sure, she was immortal, but it was still surprising just how quickly twenty-four days could pass…

“Time moves on, paths diverge, and through it all,

“We carry the Traces for eternity.”

In Ranthia’s utterly unbiased opinion, her party was a complete and total success. She hadn’t bothered to plan anything more than the date and which park she wanted to use—aside from her amorphous plans to cook food for it. She just kind of allowed whatever happened to happen.

And the chaos was absolutely working out in her favor, as the gathered crowd vocalized their appreciation for Neyvern’s unexpected song. It was wildly different from his usual energetic fare. Soulful, not that Ranthia could call it subdued, even if he played its accompaniment using an aging conventional guitar. It was a song about people coming together and sharing themselves, hearts, minds, and souls, with those they encounter. With every person moving on in time, carrying ‘Traces’ of those they meet—a word he used to refer collectively to emotions, memories, and lessons.

It was beautiful and perfect. She made sure to shout as much to him.

Ranthia still needed to do her final dancing match against Aidra to cede her rank to the girl, but that could wait a bit longer. After all, the food and fun were only a small part of the party.

“Hey, got an announcement! I know it’s traditional to wait for the party’s end to do this, but since I’ll probably wander off on a whim to lead my final prayer service, I want to go ahead and get this done. Who’s ready for presents?!” Ranthia paused to let the crowd shout their response. “I wish I could say I had something for everyone that showed up, but some of you are just here for the free food and entertainment anyway.”

“And drinks!” A Hunter at an adjacent table just had to butt in.

“Thanks, Maldar. Seriously though, even if I don’t have a gift for you, I’m still glad you’re here. The City of Arts is the greatest city in the Tympestshard Council, no matter what people in places like Ithil might think! And damn if I haven’t met some amazing people!” Getting a crowd excited had far too much in common with giving speeches to boost morale ahead of a battle. At least it made her decently proficient, even if she continued to ignore the System’s [Leader]-adjacent Skill offerings.

The elven tradition for a departing member of a community to give out gifts was formally known as the Unburdening. In theory, the process was quite literal—unburdening oneself of possessions by gifting them to friends and close associates, to make it easier to move on. Of course, Ranthia could read between the lines in the texts she’d studied; the Unburdening used to be a far more passive-aggressive event where someone finally told their community exactly what she truly thought of them. Over time though, it had become something far more meaningful and beautiful.

“Anthelleon. My sister, my closest ally. At first, we shared nothing more than a fondness for the same beverage. I never imagined from that meeting that we’d become what we are, but by Xaoc, I wouldn’t change anything between us.” Ranthia paused to retrieve the first cloth-wrapped parcel from the table. “I know you aren’t Pallos’ greatest fan of books, but I hope these will prove to be an exception. I’m entrusting you with every truth I’ve kept to myself—these are my own tales. So, uh, keep them safe.”

Weak finish aside, she didn’t miss her sister’s earnest smile.

“Neyvern. I’ll be honest—that first time we brought you out for a hunt, I left the city convinced that you were the wrong choice. Gods and goddesses, was I ever wrong! Your build is still absurd, but I can’t imagine anyone better to fill out our party… than your Bond. But hey, you’re there too, and I’m damn glad to have you!” Ranthia picked up the smallest parcel on the table and carried it to him. “Strings for your primary instrument, made using some of the wyvern material I have left. The man who helped dry and stretch them assured me that his Skills are quite transferrable for this purpose, so I hope they work great. May they offer you a new sound.”

He was already eagerly getting into them, that seemed promising.

“Solareon. I could never forget you, the greatest griffon to ever soar across the skies. Anthelleon helped me prepare this for you.” For her, Ranthia unwrapped the cloth from the gift herself, before setting a life-sized weighted plush of Clover on the griffon’s back. “My Bond may not have ever come to appreciate just how awesome you are, but I know your gentle heart. I hope this helps make up for Clover’s wariness.”

The griffon rewarded her with a whistling purr while Ranthia took a moment to pet and love on her.

“Litil. You saw me at my worst—distressed and fearful—and offered me comfort while you mended Clover. You helped me at every turn as I learned to share my life with a bunny, asking nothing in recompense. I’m indebted to you.” She offered the parcel with a grateful smile. “I know my own stitching has nothing on elven quality, but I wanted to stitch this blanket myself, even if I bought the adorable cloth from a [Merchant].”

She was pretty sure that the designs of small fluffy creatures at play would be a hit with the animal [Healer].

“Scaldos. My mentor and one of the most fascinating entities I’ve ever met. You have a unique way of viewing the world through your senses, so unlike my own, and there’s a lot of wisdom in your words—even if I don’t always appreciate it immediately. I couldn’t have become the [Wielder of the First Flavor] without you. My gift to you is twofold—first, I managed to harass Mystos into ordering more of those agonizingly intense peppers you’re fond of. They should have been delivered to your home while I kept you busy here. But beyond that…” Ranthia held out her hand. “I would like to clasp my hand to your paw—properly.”

“You sure you can take the heat, my bright spark?” The fire elemental asked.

He was capable of controlling his own heat and could even restrain his flames beneath a field that kept him at a cozily warm temperature, but he couldn’t actually feel anything while he did that. As a being of fire, temperature was the primary sense through which he perceived the world. It gave him sight and a high amount of heat was mandatory to his sense of touch.

“I can shift afterwards, and my vitality’s a lot higher than it once was. Let me acknowledge you, so you can know just how hot my gratitude burns.” Ranthia offered a cheeky response.

With that, he acquiesced and Ranthia slipped her comparatively diminutive hand atop his broad paw. As a fire elemental, Scaldos’ flames were far more intense than any mundane fire could ever be. But Ranthia chose to trust in her vitality and kept her mind off the pain as she tried to focus on her gratitude and fondness for the elemental. One of the books she’d read claimed that elementals could feel emotions from elvenoids. She had no idea if it was true, but she chose to believe it was, which made the searing agony worthwhile.

She still had to shift afterwards, though she took care to make sure no one saw the extent of her injuries before she did.

“Sunny. What can I even say about you? You’re stubborn. You’re even more impulsive than I am. You’ve caused me no small amount of heartache and stress, but I still adore you. You’re genuinely one of the most unique people I know, and I think you like it that way.” Ranthia grinned as she watched her friend cackle her agreement. “My gift for you is a bit unusual, but…”

Sunny eagerly unwrapped the cloth around her gift and was immediately glaring at Ranthia once she saw what it concealed. “My pretty, this is just rude.”

“You keep calling this jar your masterpiece. I refuse to accept that—I insist, when I visit again, I want to see something that you’re truly proud of. I don’t care if it’s inspired by me or some other beautiful woman, but there’s no way that this is the limit of your creativity and passion. The greatest privilege you’ve given me was the opportunity to watch you work. I don’t think you realize just how beautiful you are in the throes of creativity. And that was with projects that you weren’t even excited about. Please, don’t lose your passion. Never believe that you’ve reached the limits of your art.” Ranthia slipped her renewed fingers through her friend’s hair.

“Don’t blame me if it disturbs you.” Sunny looked away, blushing so hard that it crept past her ears to turn the sides of her face a vivid shade of crimson.

“I’d be disappointed if it didn’t.” Ranthia assured her, before stepping back to draw the audience’s attention away from the introverted elf.

“Myntheria. I haven’t seen your brother in years, but eh, I’ll overlook his shameless attempts to bed me. Because I’m glad that his crassness allowed us to meet. In some ways I still feel like I don’t know you as well as I should, but you’re still pretty damned awesome.” Ranthia retrieved the parcel meant for her. “You mentioned that you’re considering trying out the life of a Hunter someday. In preparation for that day, I commissioned this knife for you. It’s set with jet, imbued with my own [Void Lacerations], and enchanted to gradually renew the stone’s charge, so long as you don’t exhaust it. May it serve you well as a backup weapon, no matter what build you choose.”

“Thank you!” Myntheria pulled her in for a fierce hug, making Ranthia glad that she’d included a sheath for the knife as it pressed against her back!

“I have gifts for Elsynthene, Arq, Aegiomus, and Saranda, but none of them are attending—” Ranthia glanced at the final four parcels.

“I am here, actually. Both of me! Neither of us plans to stay, but other me was worried that we might miss you if we don’t come here to deliver this. I know giving you a gift for this is unusual, but both of me want you to have this anyway.” The voice came from behind the brown-haired elf’s head—from the Mirage face—while the main woman stayed just as quiet as she preferred. She dutifully shrugged the large spool of white rope off her shoulder and held it out to Ranthia. “Silken smooth and durable enough for whatever purposes you might use it for. Me and me hope you like it.”

“Thank you. And here, I’m mostly certain that not a one of these books are currently in your collection.” Ranthia accepted the incredibly soft and plush rope, stowed the fantasies that it conjured, and hurriedly offered one of the remaining parcels in exchange.

“Thanks! I look forward to reading them whenever I’m done—other me always claims books before I get to try them. Um, good luck with your journey. Stay safe. And don’t worry, I already made sure that you returned everything you borrowed.” And with that, one of the most unusual elves that Ranthia had ever met wandered off.

“Well, I’ll still announce the others, I suppose. For our Maestro of Conducting, I have several containers of tea that I prepared based on my homeland—specifically recreations of some of my favorite blends that Green made. I think they should please even a refined elven palate.

“For Aegiomus, a fellow Hunter that is quick to help us all, I have a map that he once borrowed and complimented. Anthelleon, I’ll entrust this to you. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to give it to him.

“And for sweet Arq, I have a vessel of water, melted from a glacier far to the south. I know she’s quite fond of water from faraway places.” Ranthia concluded, smiling.

The fact that she received the water in a still frozen state and let Scaldos melt it would be a secret between the two of them. She truly hoped that someday Arq would manage to get over her fear of the gentle giant of fire.

“I can bring Elsyny her gift.” Myntheria offered, which made life easier.

She could always walk Arq’s present over to whichever fountain she was inhabiting before she started her final City of Arts prayer service.

Ranthia was pleasantly surprised at just how well her final prayer service had gone. Anthelleon and Sylphene following her to it was expected, but having Neyvern, Solareon, Myntheria, and several other first-timers from her party follow along was far more surprising.

[*ding!* [Priestess of Xaoc] has leveled from 580 to level 586!]

“Thank you all for coming! And remember, even if I’m not here, you don’t need me to commune with Xaoc. Creativity requires chaos, and I truly believe that He loves the arts—so keep praying to Him and keep creating!” Ranthia called out as she stepped off of the Green Pavillion’s raised stage.

Most of the well-wishers had already approached her during the party, but she still had a few that preferred to know Ranthia simply as the [Priestess] that led their prayers. That handful prevented her escape until they each lamented her impending absence and demanded individualized reassurances that Xaoc would hear them, even without her assistance.

By the time Ranthia finally finished her sacred duties, the waxing moons and the stars reigned over the sky, and Ranthia’s stomach was filing its complaint that she missed the dinner service completely. In hindsight, she definitely should have gorged herself more during the party.

“Your girlfriend has retired for the night, but would you indulge me in my selfishness? I would like to talk for a while, one last time.” Anthelleon caught up to her, carrying two mugs of thick vegetable and mushroom stew.

“Sure.” Ranthia agreed readily enough, gratefully accepting one of the mugs.

Instead of wandering the city, they left through one of the quieter exits and walked into the forest. Neither of them was wearing armor, but they were both armed and suitably wary as they walked through the trees. It wasn’t like they had any reason to be too worried in such a familiar area.

Ranthia removed her blindfold once they were firmly out of sight, which seemed to signal the start of their conversation.

“Even now, it hardly feels real. And it isn’t just you either. Neyvern’s song? He was originally writing that to announce that he’s leaving too, though not for a couple of seasons. He wishes to focus on the capture bounties that the Academy has been posting recently, without dealing with third parties for transportation. And while it is rather loathsome to be so selfish, I do not look forward to being a solo Hunter again.” The complaint spilled from Anthelleon’s lips.

“Then don’t. An, you’re one of the greatest Hunters in the city—any team would be happy to have you. In fact, why don’t you use the fact that you need to talk to Aegiomus to your advantage? Gods know you could do worse than finally living out your dream.” Ranthia bumped her shoulder against Anthelleon’s, trusting that they both had the dexterity to avoid spilling their food.

Ranthia’s was already half empty anyway.

“Do you really think he would be interested?” Anthelleon’s shy tone suggested she was asking about something more than a joint hunt.

“He’d be a fool if he wasn’t. And I mean that as an answer for both questions. You’re an amazing woman An. I’m kind of glad you aren’t interested in women. After all, I like our bond exactly as it is, and I’d hate to mess that up by falling in love with you.” Ranthia offered her sister a wink before she took another mouthful of stew to chew on.

“This is absurd. What would Mahvel think of me if I started another romance already?” Anthelleon chose stubbornness.

“Probably something along the lines of ‘Oh good, maybe she won’t obsess over me for a while.’” Okay, not her best attempt to mimic her nephew’s voice, but in her defense that mouthful had a lot of potato.

“Rude. But probably accurate.” Anthelleon conceded, falling silent as she worked on her own stew.

“…I’m kind of surprised you never asked to come with me. Especially if you already knew Neyvern and Solareon are planning to leave.” Ranthia was the one that broke the silence after a few minutes.

“I can be a selfish woman, Ran, but I do try to have limits to my more loathsome traits. I am distinctly aware that there is much that you have not said, and I never wish to intrude.” Anthelleon was a bit offended.

“An, I only ever kept things quiet because I know that you hate bearing secrets. The truth is already recorded on the pages of the books I gave you—I wasn’t kidding when I asked you to safeguard them—but if you want to know, ask. I’m not comfortable with keeping things from you if you’re willing to hear them. He might be mildly annoyed with me, but I’ll even tell you who we’re going to be travelling with.” Ranthia stopped walking and seized her sister’s wrist, looking her in the eye.

“I am aware, my sister. And I truly do appreciate your concern.” Anthelleon hesitated for a moment, before she finally met Ranthia’s gaze. “I will ask only this: Do you truly trust this paramour of yours to have your back?”

“I do.” Ranthia was kind of relieved that there was no hesitation on her part. Things with Sylphene weren’t always easy—not like they had been. But even though it was still forming, their new bond was far more solid.

No more deception. No more holding back. Those promises meant quite a bit to them both.

“Then that is enough for me. Perhaps in time I will read what you have written, but for now I choose patience. Perhaps the secrets will become irrelevant with time.” Anthelleon smiled.

“Thank you. For everything. You’ll always be the sister that I chose, no matter how much distance separates us. Stay safe and stay strong, because we will meet again.” Ranthia spread her arms to offer a hug.

“Of course we will.” Anthelleon eagerly embraced her.

There was still something special about waking up alongside Sylphene. Her first conscious thought was simple awareness of her Gemheart’s presence. The beautifully familiar warmth, subtly different than that of any other lover Ranthia had ever known. And while Sylphene’s scent was different from Avyna’s due to changing which products she used for personal grooming and the additions required to maintain her vibrantly colored hair, Ranthia had swiftly learned to find comfort in that captivating aroma.

Surprisingly, despite Sylphene being sound asleep when Ranthia carefully slipped into bed alongside her, Ranthia was still the first to rise. The rhythm of her elf’s breathing and heartbeats was that of peaceful slumber. But that was fine. Ranthia just kept her eyes shut and enjoyed the scents, sounds, and warmth that Sylphene shared with her.

The day could wait a bit longer. Everything was packed and ready in spatially expanded storage, aside from the many, many items that Ranthia would be leaving behind. Per the Maestro’s note, Ranthia’s home would be guaranteed to be left alone for at least 512 years—barring an unexpected housing crisis, and even if it ended up being claimed, she was willing to trust that her property would be properly stored and preserved.

Aside from some scales to replace any lost from her armor, Ranthia planned to leave most of the preserved wyvern parts behind. She hoped to eventually commission a suit of armor for Sylphene from Algaras, but there hadn’t been time or opportunity to do so. At least Sylphene still had the armored dresses that she’d once favored. They would suffice for the immediate future.

Similarly, many of her beloved treasures would be staying. Mage-rock, her mementos of her fathers, the rings meant for the life she once hoped to share with Hexara, and more. She had no way to safely bring them with her and preserve them, but what was an Adventurer’s home truly meant for if not as a place to leave that which was too important to carry?

It still bothered her. She’d lost so much without knowing while she was away, but she needed to adapt. Besides, the most important things would be coming with her—her armor, her adamantium, her faith, and the woman she offered her heart to. And so long as she was armed with those, she had everything that she truly needed. Well, those and the supplies they’d packed to make their days comfortable and shelter them from anything but the most extreme weather.

Ranthia finally cracked her eyes open and admired Sylphene’s serene face until her lover stirred, at which point she offered a few tender kisses until they were both ready to make their final preparations for their journey. Ranger—and Pallos itself—was waiting.

[Name: Ranthia]

[Species: Human]

[Age: 197]

[Mana: 1516070/1516070]

[Mana Regen Rate: 945948]

[Stats:]

[Free Stats: 0]

[Strength: 49087]

[Dexterity: 199693]

[Vitality: 170421]

[Speed: 165635]

[Mana: 151607]

[Mana Regeneration: 163926]

[Magic Power: 109802]

[Magic Control: 103120]

[Class 1: [Shards of the Shattered Mirror – Mirror (774)]]

[Mirror Spirit: 774]

[Shatter the Mirror: 774]

[Shards of the Perpetual Dancer: 774]

[Reflective Source: 308]

[Persistent Imagery: 774]

[Latent Reality: 774]

[Twisted Reflection: 732]

[Manifest Chaos: 638]

[Class 2: [A Passion for Chaos – Void (781)]]

[Void Authority: 781]

[Rhythmic Passions: 781]

[Void Lacerations: 781]

[The Dancer’s Costume: 781]

[Divine Eyes in the Void: 781]

[Sustained Chaos: 781]

[Pinpoint Barrier: 640]

[True Grace: 669]

[Class 3: [Adventuring Priestess of Chaos – Magic Metal (619)]]

[Magic Metal Authority: 619]

[Adamantium Chaos: 619]

[Priestess of Xaoc: 586]

[I am the Priestess; I am the Champion: 619]

[Divine Seeker: 117]

[Adamantium Will: 619]

[Dedication to Xaoc: 619]

[Higher Power: 619]

[General Skills:]

[Companion Bond between Ranthia and Clover: 768]

[Ranthia’s Covenant with Xaoc: 391]

[Wielder of the First Flavor: 601]

[Submind: 781]

[Immortal Armaments: 732]

[Fast Learner: 781]

[Hunting’s Tracking: 219]

[Sexy: 727]

[Other:]

{Xaoc's Covenant with Ranthia}

“Alright kids, you ready for a proper Ranger-styled adventure? I’m all about the early to bed and early to rise thing, at least when I remember to sleep. Uh, remind me if I forget, I guess? For now, let’s focus on getting far away from here.” Ranger never bothered to announce his presence. He simply appeared at Sylphene’s other side as she walked through the forest with her beloved and started talking.

She expected nothing less. She was starting to get used to his eccentricities, inasmuch as anyone possibly could.

“Sure. Where are we going anyhow?” Ranthia managed to speak before Sylphene could think of a proper response.

“I am open to requests! Ideally nothing that borders the Tympestshard Council though. The Wardens are either going to leave me alone or the woman in charge is trying to give some very ill-advised orders, and I’d really rather not find out which it is for a few centuries.” Ranger truly had a gift for irreverence.

“How about we visit the lands of the dragonlings then? Tenther, assuming I’m pronouncing it correctly.” Ranthia offered a positively scandalous suggestion!

“Wow Ranthia, I am learning so much about you right now. Uh, any other ideas?” Ranger looked meaningfully at Sylphene.

“Wait, what? What’s wrong with—” Thankfully, Ranthia was plainly confused. It was something of a relief to know that her beloved was only unintentionally utterly crass, for once.

“Vynthazz.” Sylphene threw out the first thing that came to mind, just to spare them from having to explain the dragonlings’ cultural… predilections.

“Kobold place it is!” Ranger agreed magnanimously. “Let’s keep the conversation flowing while we walk. I’m not really in the mood to talk about anything serious, so we’ll pick at the past! Who wants to hear why it took several attempts for shields to catch on?”

“Is it because early materials proved too fragile?” Ranthia chimed in. She was still a bit disgruntled.

“…Look Ranthia, stories aren’t any fun if you just immediately guess exactly the right answer.” Ranger grumbled.

It was hardly difficult to land on the true reason. Ranger’s lesson about force multiplication provided all the necessary context. For a shield to be more worthwhile than a barrier Skill, it needed to be considerably more resilient than the basic manifestation of whichever element was being used. Simple bark, woven grasses, or even mundane wood that remained insufficiently preserved would never be worthwhile.

“Actually, I do have a question I’ve been meaning to ask.” Ranthia seemed atypically reticent.

“Is it about my name? Everyone asks sooner or later.” Ranger grumbled.

Sylphene felt her ears grow warmer. She herself had asked that while Ranthia was busy with the dart game—when Ranger and the other god-made elves first encountered other elvenoids, he mistook people referring to him by his tag, [Ranger], as them somehow knowing his name. Unfortunately, by the time he realized his error, it had stuck. Though he readily admitted that he had no other plans for what to call himself.

“Actually… Have you ever heard of Paladins?” Ranthia sighed and forced herself to ask.

Ah. She was asking about her own past, not that she retained any true memory of it.

“Oof, Ranthia. I asked for non-serious and you drop that? Meh, fine. [Paladins] were kind of like [Priests], except the gods used to grant combat classes to chosen champions. Divine enforcers, basically. But you know this peaceful era we all enjoy, the one that doesn’t have dragons and other immortals trying to tear the planet in half constantly? Well, a group of [Paladins] almost wrecked that and nearly pushed the world back into constant warfare. Even now, societies remain striated by species for the most part—a wound they inflicted that just never healed. As we came together, [Paladins] divided us anew.

“That’s why the gods formed a pact to never appoint another [Paladin] and, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, every last one that existed either died of old age or was delivered to Black Crow. In fact, there’s still quite a few immortals out there that would happily kill you for even just saying that word, so kindly keep it off your tongue unless you want to look for trouble.” Ranger was disgruntled enough by the topic that he sped up even more, forcing Ranthia to enter an all-out sprint to keep pace.

At least the pace was gentle enough that Sylphene could still spare the attention to study her beloved’s troubled expression. Neither of them had expected any of that. In truth, she had long assumed that ‘Paladin’ was merely the name of the being that Ranthia once was.

Holding their silence felt wise, but Sylphene still reached for Ranthia’s hand to offer her a bit of silent support and comfort.

Ranthia had given her so much patience and love. It was somewhat nice to have the opportunity to return that favor in some way, even if she regretted that it was preceded by pain and accompanied by turmoil.

“So, what’d you get?” Ranger’s expectant face was entirely too close to her own when she reopened her eyes.

Honestly, she would have preferred to behold Ranthia’s face before his! Still, just as everyone expected she would, she smiled.

“[Student of Ranger].” The class was just as the legendary man had promised before he went through the ceremony of proclaiming her his thirty-second—and final—apprentice.

He had promised that the formality would improve her class quality, though she was still pleasantly surprised to receive a blue class so soon. There was no way that she could have restrained her smile, even if she wished to do so!

[Name: Avyna]

[Species: Elf]

[Age: 1612]

[Mana: 2307250/2307250]

[Mana Regen Rate: 2647557]

[Stats:]

[Free Stats: 0]

[Strength: 124836]

[Dexterity: 142144]

[Vitality: 132529]

[Speed: 72608]

[Mana: 230725]

[Mana Regeneration: 319577]

[Magic Power: 262006]

[Magic Control: 208748]

[Class 1: [Facets of Fascination – Gemstones (833)]]

[Gemstones Authority: 833]

[Amethyst Eyes of the Trader: 833]

[Lustrous Analysis: 833]

[The Shining Jewel of Negotiations: 833]

[Sapphire Stamina: 833]

[Idealized Gems: 510]

[Jadeite Might: 833]

[Flawless Raiment: 781]

[Class 2: [Worldly Elven Enchantress – Arcanite (1029)]]

[Arcanite Mastery: 1029]

[Enchantress of Eternity: 1029]

[Effortless Engravings: 1011]

[Enchantments Interwoven: 1029]

[Arcanite Artisan: 1029]

[Mana Sight: 318]

[Mana Override: 999]

[Enchanting Inclusions: 742]

[Class 3: [Student of Ranger – Spatial (36)]]

[Spatial Authority: 32]

[Ranger’s Apprentice: 1]

[Spatial Storage: 1]

[Spatial Acceleration: 1]

[Ephemeral Portal: 1]

[Spatial Peek: 1]

[Improved Predictions: 1]

[Spatial Awareness: 1]

[General Skills:]

[Chest of Experience: 1029]

[Elven Enchanter: 1029]

[Elven Experience: 1029]

[Elven Archer: 1029]

[System Perception: 1029]

[Worldly Navigator: 1013]

[Elven Evasion: 1023]

[Elven Exhalations: 317]

And with it, she was one step closer to truly belonging alongside her beloved, no matter what dangers their ‘adventuring’ demanded that they face. With Ranger’s help, she was confident that she would truly be ready in the years to come.