The next morning, I teleported back from the Sunless Reach just after dawn. After making sure my spear was holding as much star mana as it could hold, if I was careful, I thought I could use it for two teleports instead of one.

  I should probably see Ki’a again about feeding my spear another nightmare soul.

  I appeared near the market under Hano’s yellow sun. The city was already awake, the clashing sound of merchants hawking their gear in a way that almost felt like singing.

  I spent the morning handling the sort of mundane life-maintenance that no one wrote ballads about. I bought socks, underwear, towels, soaps, and a handful of things that wouldn’t spoil inside my bag of holding.

  Then I visited Je’e in the merchant guild; the blue-haired merchant woman looked to be both omnipresent and chronically overworked. She was herding a small troop of guild messengers and laborers when I found her, clipboard in hand, giving orders like a maestro leading an orchestra. Louis, the Holy faithful girl and competent cook, was there as well. She was checking grain inventories for the pizza business; apparently, our little culinary franchise had already begun to take root. I told both of them I would be leaving for a little while, but I would try to check on them with my teleportation at least once a week.

  Afterward, I stopped by Nina’s workshop. Two junior glass workers hovered nearby, sweating nervously while Nina explained the spyglass-making process; the genius inventor seemed to be a terrible teacher, expecting them to pick up complex concepts after seeing her do them once. I also told her I would be gone, and to my surprise, she hugged me, engulfing me in her wings and telling me to make sure to be safe.

  My last stop before regrouping was the temple. I informed Sana and the rest of the clerics that I’d be gone for a while and checked on the vaccine project. Progress was fast, and the clerics were already planning to test it on people. I mean, if you have a miracle that can cure any illness, I guess it’s safer than Earth, especially since the results on the piglets were already promising.

  I went back to the guild, where I spent the short night, the six-hour night between Fireday and Waterday, napping, my body already acclimating to the weird day-night cycle.

  By dawn of Waterday, I met back with the team near the Weaver sisters’ shop to retrieve our under-armor.

  The spider-silk suits were… tight. Very tight. Full-body yoga-pant levels of tight. It felt like wearing a leotard or a catsuit.

  Not that I had any experience wearing those; I just watched Catwoman.

  The material molded to my curves in an alarmingly scandalous way. I looked objectively good in it, but objectivity was no comfort when the shape of my hips was being personally introduced to everyone’s eyes.

  The cloth behaved like a non-Newtonian fluid: soft and elastic when stretched, rigid when impacted. I wasn’t sure if that was an aspect of the silk or if the Weaver sisters had added some kind of enhancement to it.

  I layered my normal clothes over the suit, confirming that nothing snagged, pinched, or knotted.

  Ja’a and Kan didn’t bother wearing anything over theirs; they emerged from the shop looking like murder-gymnasts. Vena, naturally, wore her robes over hers; purity was part of her doctrine, after all.

  Calr and Shingo looked like a comedic duo in a Saturday morning cartoon; one was scrawny enough you could see his ribs, the other was tall and fat, his stomach perfectly highlighted by the form-fitting material. Raik and Katar also wore theirs under their armor.

  When we finally assembled, the team looked somewhat more homogeneous, the under-armor being the same deep blue for all of us, even if some wore it under clothes.

  Next stop was the metal shaper.

  Commander Kitchi met us there. He gave us a look when he spotted the under-armor, then gave an approving nod.

  I was expecting him to take us to a big forge with burly men working metal into various shapes. Nope. He took us to a noble estate, the fanciest noble estate I had ever seen.

  We followed Kitchi through the estate’s courtyard, boots clacking on cobblestones. Instead of heading toward the main doors, we veered left under an archway dripping with cultivated vines. Deeper in the garden sat a small smelting oven beside an outdoor forge. A heavily pregnant woman lounged in a cushioned chair with two maids in attendance. She looked up when Kitchi arrived and immediately began staring daggers at him.

  I guessed this was our metal shaper.

  “Kitchi, I can’t believe you’re making me work when I’m this close to labor,” the woman drawled, her voice half scolding, half joking.

  “Come on, Petal. It’s not like you’re going to hammer anything yourself,” dismissed the commander, “you can do it all with mana.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Fine. I owe you one for helping me melt orichalcum, so I suppose I’ll return the favor.”

  Kitchi smirked and gestured to Raik. “This is Raik, my younger brother.”

  Raik approached and bowed deeply. “Lady Satori, I am honored to meet you.”

  Satori. The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it yet.

  “What a polite young boy,” she cooed. “Don’t grow up to be a rotten womanizer like your brother.”

  “Of course, my lady, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Hey now,” Kitchi protested. “Don’t turn my kid brother against me.”

  “This is my team,” said Raik.

  We introduced ourselves in order. Lady Petal Satori’s eyes skimmed over us with professional detachment, cataloging gear and posture more than faces. She paused when her gaze landed on Katar’s swords.

  “You there. Show me your blades.”

  Katar unsheathed both swords and handed them to her, a long messer-looking blade and a shorter gladius. Petal Satori studied them for a minute, turning them in her hands. Her expression shifted from curiosity to sober appraisal.

  “Fetch my husband,” she ordered one of the maids.

  The girl sprinted toward the main house.

  “I can tell you care for your weapons,” Satori said, tracing a finger along one of the nicks. “How did they get damaged this badly?”

  “Fighting Izair of High Rock,” Katar replied.

  Satori froze. “The legendary sword Malifice?”

  Katar nodded once.

  “You know these swords are too damaged to be repaired normally,” she said.

  Katar glanced toward Kitchi. “I was told by Commander Kitchi not to buy new weapons, that you would handle it.”

  Satori’s lips twitched. “That, I can do. Mirabel, one steel ingot and five Forged Assailant cores, please.”

  The other maid hurried over and placed one metal ingot into the furnace, along with several monster cores.

  “Kitchi, be a dear and heat the furnace. As hot as you can.”

  “I can do you one better,” Kitchi said, glancing at Raik. “With help from my little brother.”

  Both Agame men went to work, aura flaring as they fed fire into the furnace. The older Agame created it while the younger made it even hotter, and the air grew searing enough that heat warped the edges of my perception.

  The metal shaper slid Katar’s damaged messer into the fire. After a few seconds, she withdrew it; the blade glowed bright red, nearly molten. All her aura focus wrapped around the sword.

  “She’s manipulating the internal metal composition while it’s in a semi-molten state,” said Kitchi. “Removing impurities, eliminating microfractures, correcting weaknesses, all while maintaining perfect balance.”

  “Her soul strength is at least forty SB,” Ja’a murmured. “Double Raik’s.”

  I activated my new perception skill, and I could see the magnetic charge of the blade all over the place while she was working on it.

  A few minutes passed, and the steel cooled without hammering, quenching, or any of the steps a normal smith would use. The sword simply settled back into a solid form, glossy and clean.

  Katar picked it up, ran a thumb along the edge, and blinked. The balance had changed; the damage was gone. The sword was even better than before.

  The woman was almost done with the second sword when a type of blade appeared from nowhere. Then, with a flicker, a rift in reality opened, and a man with salt-and-pepper hair exited the newly formed portal, followed by Captain Yoka Satori.

  Ah, right. That’s where I had heard that name.

  So if Lady Petal was married to the Satori, her husband must be…

  “General, kiddo,” said Raik, saluting the leader of the Freelancer Guild.

  We all saluted after him.

  “At ease,” said the General. Yoka gave us a wave and a big smile to Vena, who, if I remembered correctly, saved her life at Pikar Steppe.

  The General wore casual clothes rather than armor or a uniform.

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  He turned to his pregnant wife and said

  “You called for me, my dear?”

  Lady Petal Satori handed the second blade to Katar.

  “This boy is a true swordsman. Why don’t you spar with him? He might be worth your time.”

  The General turned to Katar, nodded once, and simply said, “Follow me,” before stabbing reality once more and creating another portal. He stepped through it, and Katar didn’t hesitate to follow.

  “Someone just opened a hole in reality. Why is everyone acting like this is normal?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  Vena looked at me like I was an idiot. “Alice, you can teleport. Your powers are literally in the same league as his. Why are you acting surprised?”

  I tried to argue my point, but words left me… so I just sighed.

  After Katar vanished through the portal with the General, the rest of us were instructed to show our weapons. For most of us, there wasn’t enough prestige to warrant custom forging on the spot, so Lady Satori had her staff fetch pre-made weapons from an armory adjoining the forge.

  One maid returned with a two-handed claymore nearly one and a half meters long. That blade was handed to Vena.

  “I use a shortsword,” Vena protested immediately, forehead scrunched.

  Lady Satori barely blinked. “Not anymore. This suits you better.”

  “That isn’t how…” Vena started.

  “The weight is spread across both hands, giving you longer reach and better control,” Satori interrupted, waving the complaint away like a fly. “You also don’t use a shield, so shifting from one-handed to two-handed grip won’t change your style too much.”

  Vena stared at the blade long, then tested its balance. To her surprise, it swung clean. Vena was nothing if not humble; she bowed slightly and accepted the woman’s superior expertise.

  Two more maids staggered into view carrying a metal tower shield the size of a door, followed by a third struggling under a war hammer that looked like siege equipment.

  Those went to Shingo, who looked equal parts thrilled and terrified.

  “This will make better use of your kindred strength,” Satori said as an afterthought, watching the giant boy heft both shield and hammer as if born to them.

  Calr, meanwhile, received a rapier so delicate it looked like it could bisect molecules. He swished it once; the blade sang through the air. Ja’a clapped at the display of sharpness.

  “Spar with that Katar boy so you learn how to use it,” Satori warned him. “Otherwise it’s wasted on you.”

  Calr flushed and nodded.

  Raik and Ja’a didn’t receive weapons, nor did they ask for any.

  When Petal Satori examined my spear, she hummed once, nodded, and told me, “Keep feeding the nascent proto-soul. It’s still hungry.”

  That would have been concerning if I hadn’t already watched it eat a nightmare soul.

  Kan, on the other hand, required actual forging work. Her chain manipulation Soulbook demanded new weaponry, and with her kindred strength, she could handle heavier equipment. Two maids carried steel ingots and several monster cores, this batch harvested from something called a Tormentor of Doom.

  “Horrifying name,” I whispered. “But overly edgy…”

  Ja’a snorted.

  “They’re monsters made from metal shackles,” explained Calr, who had apparently memorized the entire bestiary.

  Lady Satori ignored us and began shaping metal links in midair from nearly molten metal, Raik and Kitchi still working the forge with their fire magic. Each link formed in whole, with no seams or hinges; perfect rings locked together with physics-defying precision.

  “These chains have no weak point,” she said. “Since the links are forged perfectly fused, there’s nowhere to pry them open.”

  Kan nodded, eyes distant, probably remembering the Pikar Steppe. I’d seen the aftermath of what happened to her chains.

  Satori finished the weapon by adding a morning star at one end and a sharp spike at the other, par Kan’s preferred configuration.

  Armor came next, starting with me.

  Lady Satori snapped her fingers. “Strip to your under-armor.”

  I hesitated, then stripped down to the spider-silk bodysuit. Both Kitchi and Calr’s eyes flicked my way; I pretended not to notice. I’d worn bikinis on crowded beaches before; this was practically the same, I told myself.

  “I need you to suppress your aura inside your body,” the metal mage instructed. “I can’t have you fighting me for authority over the metal while I’m working.”

  A newly forged chain floated from the forge, glowing faintly with mana.

  “Your control is slipping,” she added with a frown.

  I focused harder, remembering Garo’s aura training.

  “Better, but you need more practice.”

  I flushed. Being scolded by a heavily pregnant metal sorceress was not on my bingo card for the week.

  “She recently had a burst of soul growth,” Ja’a offered in my defense. “That’s probably why she’s struggling with her control.”

  Satori nodded once and continued. Still, I made a mental note to double my nightly aura practice for at least a week.

  The process of making the chainmail mirrored Kan’s weapon, but the links were smaller, finer, and woven to mimic fabric rather than normal chains. She threaded the metal mesh over the spider-silk bodysuit, layering it like a second skin. Monster cores from a Metal Slime and something called a Silent Stalker were added to the furnace; the resulting enchantment rendered the chainmail elastic and silent, allowing no rattling, no clinking, and extreme levels of flexibility. I could pull it on and off by stretching the collar rather than needing assistance like normal chainmail.

  Seeing metal stretch like elastic was… unsettling.

  The process of making my chainmail took almost fifteen minutes, which was ten times longer than fixing Katar’s blade or making Kan’s chain. Still, if those things were forged by hand, it would have taken months.

  Finally, small plates were added next, shaped to guard the heart, forearms, and shins. The armor looked almost ceremonial: sleek blue silk beneath matte silver. It still clung to my figure like a painted-on costume; I immediately decided to wear my traveling clothes over it in public.

  “Is alloying monster core with steel a common process?” I asked out loud, wondering why I didn’t see more elastic metal around in the city.

  Lady Petal snorted.

  “Do you think I would be bothering her mid-break if anyone else could do it?” asked Kitchi.

  “My brother married her because she is the best metal shaper in hano,” said Yoka. “ he wouldn’t let anyone maintain his blade unless he full trust them.”

  “I swear that man only married me for my talent“ laughed Petal.

  The same process was repeated for everyone except Shingo, who was fitted for full plate armor. It was magically reinforced with cores from a Forged Steel Golem and looked heavier than normal steel.

  Katar reappeared mid-fitting, beaten, bruised, and absolutely radiant. His grin could have powered a small city. He was fitted last with armor similar to ours.

  Captain Yoka spent the entire time drilling Vena on how to handle the claymore with proper stance and leverage, occasionally whacking her with a wooden sword when she overcommitted or under-rotated.

  “If you insist on fighting in the front,” Yoka said, “you may as well learn to handle pain.”

  Vena didn’t mind the harsh treatment. I began to wonder if the pure maiden was secretly a masochist.

  By the time the armor sets were complete, Raik looked visibly ill. The bill for materials alone could have bought a boat, or a house, possibly both.

  Lady Petal waved off his horror. “You’re lucky I’m not charging you for my labor. Instead, I’ll call for your help when the next orichalcum shipment arrives.”

  Raik bowed like a man accepting his doom. “Of course, Lady Satori.”

  With armor and gear finished and payment painfully settled, we bid farewell to the Satori estate.

  Captain Yoka demonstrated her magical might by lifting herself and Lady Petal’s entire sofa into the air with pure kinetic force rather than allowing the heavily pregnant metal mage to walk even a single step back to the house. The sofa drifted through the courtyard like a lazy flying carpet, Petal reclining atop it like a queen being ferried by invisible servants. Her maids trailed after them, skirts swishing.

  “Are you feeling well?” I heard Yoka ask as they floated toward the main building. “You didn’t overwork yourself, did you?”

  “Barely,” scoffed Petal. “Just get me inside before I go into labor on you.”

  For all her grumbling, she looked grateful. Apparently, nobles were too dignified to waddle.

  Kitchi gave us a curt nod. “I’ll take my leave. The General and I have matters to discuss.”

  We exited the estate fully kitted, armed, plated, and if I was honest, I looked more like a real adventurer than ever before. Armor shifted against silk with only the faintest whisper, clinging like a second skin. The weather in Hano was mild enough that it didn’t feel too hot or too cold, which was ideal for fighting or walking.

  Kan tugged experimentally at her newly forged chains, the rings chiming softly as if tasting their new weight. Katar kept flexing his fingers around his restored blades like a man itching for another duel. Vena carried her new claymore with reverence, clearly imagining this moment as the first step toward paladinhood. Calr posed dramatically with the crossbow in one hand and rapier in the other, looking like an idiot. Ja’a laughed quietly at his antics.

  Our next stop was the Freelancer Guild.

  Nada was already waiting at her desk, hair in full tentacle-mode as she magically coaxed spilled ink into pages and pages of ledgers.

  “Good timing,” she said without preamble. “I’ve been sifting for suitable missions for your challenge.”

  “Thank you, Lady Lore,” Raik said.

  She raised a brow. “Call me Nada, unless you want me to call you ‘His Highness Duke Raik Agame of Skylift Lake.’”

  Raik cringed. “Right… Nada. My mistake.”

  “Anyhow,” Nada continued, “you need thirty missions for your challenge in one month.”

  “Correct,” Raik said, sounding slightly wary.

  Nada tapped the quill against her palm. “Then we focus on medium-pay exterminations. One beast per mission, so you don’t waste time clearing fields. Missions should be geographically clustered, and none should be large enough to derail your travel.”

  She spread four maps across the table and sorted a grid of parchment assignments like a wargame strategist, or a Dungeon Master who took prep work very seriously. Nada was terrifyingly good at this.

  “Starting in the outskirts of Hano near the south gate are several villages that need help,” she continued, circling a chain of settlements. “These don’t pay well, but they give record entries toward your challenge.”

  “Those villages are mostly under Hano’s protection,” Ja’a said. “Shouldn’t the Guild be footing the payment?”

  Nada allowed herself a thin smile. “Precisely. Which is why the reward is low. They’re usually entry-level missions, but since your group is newly formed, you can breeze through them without issue and make a dent in the thirty-mission requirement.”

  The missions ranged from “Bog Drake” to “Forest Colossus Stag” to something labeled “Viper Branch Mimic.” There was also a “Hill Tyrant Boar,” a “Reef Lurker,” and a “Stoneback Troll.”

  “These are efficient,” Raik said, scanning the briefings. “None should take more than a day each. Less if we camp out.”

  “They are stacked along the southwestern Hano fringe,” Nada added, drawing a meandering line across the map. “One week of travel at a casual pace.”

  “Do we get paid individually or as a bundle?” Ja’a asked.

  “Bundle,” Nada answered. “Since the Guild is paying you directly, you don’t need to collect from villagers.”

  “And after that?” Raik asked. The southern-edge missions would barely cover a third of the requirement.

  Nada tapped the final city on her map. “Verraden. A free city on paper. In practice, tied financially and militarily to Hano. There’s a freelancer Guild branch there.”

  “Will there be a lot of missions?” I asked.

  “Plenty.” Nada nodded. “The city is the first major stop from Hano toward Fort Ectamel: the bastion against the undead dead zone. Keeping that corridor open is profitable. You’ll find extermination jobs constantly.”

  I blinked. “Why is trade near the undead zone profitable?”

  “Because an endless source of death mana cores means an endless source of fertilizer,” Ja’a explained. “Which means an endless source of grain and grass, which means an endless source of bread, cheese, and meat.”

  Nada waved her quill. “If you travel further toward Ectamel, you’ll also find plenty of aberration-clearing missions. Frankly, you could probably get more than thirty missions in Ectamel alone. They’re always in need of competent freelancers.”

  Raik nodded, visibly relieved now that a coherent plan existed.

  “Are you leaving tomorrow?” Nada asked.

  “There’s still daylight left,” Raik decided. “We’ll travel to the first village now and begin the first hunt at dawn.”

  “Good luck, then,” Nada concluded.

  She stamped, sealed, signed, and docketed as only a woman whose true power was paperwork could.

  As for us, our journey toward adventure had begun.