The return journey

The enormous owlbear vanished into the forest mist, just as it had appeared.

Though it was covered in wounds and looked close to death, no one wanted to gamble with their own life in the dark.

"I saved the day! Good thing I thought fast and used the giant spider's venom sac to poison my arrowhead..."

Unlike Joe, who came running over with excited shouts, Bagg, so fierce just moments before, now swayed and nearly collapsed.

Fortunately, Marcus caught him in time and eased him down to the ground.

Bagg's left arm bent at an unnatural angle. Some flying splinters had even pierced his Gambeson; apparently, his shield hadn't fully blocked the owlbear's attack.

The wound on his chest was the worst. Hardened cowhide had proved as flimsy as sackcloth beneath the owlbear's claws. Their sharp tips had torn huge gashes across Bagg's chest, and blood poured out, drenching him red.

Marcus struggled to remove Bagg's ruined leather armor and gave the wounds a quick rinse with clean water.

Renato emptied all the Hemostatic Powder from his satchel onto Bagg's chest, then pressed cotton against the wounds while helping Marcus wrap them tightly with bandages.

Marcus found two branches and used the remaining bandages to make a crude splint, securing Bagg's left arm.

"What are you doing? We need to leave, now, or... anyway, we can't waste time here! Big Guy's lost so much blood. He's done for!"

"Hey, young master, leave that lunatic Deserter alone. We need to hurry." Joe winked insistently at Renato. "Or... shall we do things the Brekka Town way?"

Renato lifted his Morningstar and stared coldly at Joe, his voice calm:

"I suggest you think carefully before you act, Joe. We don't need Brekka Town's rules here right now."

"Or would you like me to personally show you what Brekka Town's rules are?"

As Renato advanced on him, Joe took two steps back, his eyes full of disbelief:

"This is ridiculous! Have you gone mad? Have you all gone mad? He's already a dead man! If we keep wasting time, we'll all die here..."

Bagg, who had remained silent since he fell, finally spoke. His voice had lost its usual strength:

"Little Finger's right, the coward... Go on without me. I won't make it this time. I'm no coward. I'm not afraid to die. Death in battle is a warrior's fate in the North. My ancestors will guide my soul..."

"Don't talk like that, lad. You're still alive. Your soul's right here, and the gods won't take it." Marcus struggled to help Bagg stand, the weight and exhaustion leaving the veteran barely able to move his legs.

Renato supported Bagg on the other side, sharing the weight. With Bagg between them, the two slowly made their way along the trail.

"Don't worry, Bagg. If a monster comes after us, we'll definitely leave you behind. But hang on for now. At least hold out until dawn for me."

Bagg gave a weak smile at Renato's words. He clenched his teeth to stay conscious and shuffled forward with their support.

Sunlight pierced the thick mist, dispelling the gloom that lingered among the trees.

They encountered no more monsters along the way. Renato guessed that the owlbear's scent clinging to them might have scared off other creatures.

The owlbear that had attacked them hadn't pursued them, which puzzled Renato.

He had read descriptions of owlbears in more than one book. They had little intelligence and no sense of when to retreat. Once they chose their prey, they would pursue it relentlessly within their territory, even if doing so sometimes led to their own deaths.

Still, it had been badly wounded, and it had also "taken" Renato's fine steel longsword-a beautifully decorated weapon, well balanced and very comfortable to use.

Their hasty departure and the need to support Bagg had meant Renato couldn't even take most of the loot. But he didn't regret it.

Ultimately, he didn't belong to this world-Immararel, the name the ancient elven gods had supposedly given it.

Humans dispensed with the complex Elvish pronunciation and simply called it Ereel.

To survive, Renato could be as cunning and ruthless as the adventurers of Brekka Town, even if, to his mind, that meant behaving like uncivilized beasts.

But some things couldn't change. Even though Renato had already been forced to change a great deal, deep down he still instinctively clung to certain principles and boundaries.

Perhaps others saw them as meaningless, nothing more than self-comfort and self-deception. Even so, they at least proved that he was still someone from Earth, rather than one of these ignorant, backward Eryl people.

After they reached Brekka Town, Marcus and Joe took the now-unconscious Bagg to the small temple dedicated to Eldath, the Mother of Waters. To Renato, the priests of the Quiet One seemed more out of place in this town than anyone else. They cared for the injured and cast divine spells, asking for neither faith nor payment.

Whether Eldath's clerics were truly as noble as the rumors claimed was something Renato couldn't experience for himself. As a cultist, he had always kept his distance from clerics of every kind, and stayed well away from sacred places like temples.

Pressing a hand over Dakoul's mark on his chest, he couldn't help sighing:

"After all, Ereel really does have gods. I'd rather not get a divine spell to the face. According to all those religious texts, Dakoul's followers are even more evil than the devils of the Nine Hells."

Renato flexed the stiff joints in his limbs. Nothing was broken; he probably just had bruises from the fall.

On the [Character] panel, his health had dropped by only a few points. In theory, a night's sleep would restore it.

"But to be safe, I'd better buy a healing potion from the guild, so I don't end up with any lingering injuries."

He also needed a new weapon. The absence of a longsword at his waist left Renato feeling thoroughly uncomfortable.

The Adventurers' Guild also ran a magic shop here, but its expensive wares attracted few adventurers. Most of the time, it served merely as the guild's magic-item appraisal office in Brekka Town.

The shop occupied a modest two-story wooden building. Several large words were carved in Common above its door: "The Crucible and the Joke."

The shop's manager was a sorcerer named Oliver. Renato found it hard to associate the heavily bearded, middle-aged man before him with a spellcaster.

Oliver looked up at Renato, a pipe between his teeth:

"Appraisal's twenty-five copper coins. Twenty percent off if you've got more than five items." He tapped the wooden board beside him. "If you're selling, check the item list here first. No haggling. If it's not on there, show it to me..."

"I'm here to buy magic items."

Renato flipped a gold coin into the air, caught it casually, and slipped it back into his pouch.

At the sight of the gold coin dancing over Renato's palm, Oliver immediately rose from his seat, smoothed his hair, and put on an enthusiastic smile:

"You've certainly come to the right place! What sort of magic item are you looking for? I'd recommend this newly arrived magic ring. It lets you breathe freely underwater like a fish, and it's thirty percent off right now-just thirty-five gold coins..."

"I want a sword. Preferably metal, and enchanted."

The healing potion could wait. Looking at the shelves packed with wares, Renato decided to satisfy his curiosity and have a look at these wondrous magic items first. He wasn't actually going to buy one anyway.

One longsword was dark silver, with a slightly curved blade that gave it a scimitar-like shape. Near the hilt, a natural marking resembled a tear streak.

Renato tried to give it a swing, but found that the longsword was locked into the weapon rack and couldn't be removed.

"Sorry, we don't let customers try out magic items. I can only demonstrate them for you."

Oliver swung the oddly shaped longsword. The entire weapon seemed extraordinarily light, giving Renato the impression that he was swinging air.

"This longsword was made by an elven artisan. Its name is Moon-Toucher. Not only was it cast entirely from mithral, it's also imbued with elven magic. Once drawn, it sheds moonlight in the dark."

It was a work of art. Renato ran his hand along the blade, but the fifty-gold price forced him to say something he didn't mean:

"It looks too light. There's no power behind its swing. Besides, what good is glowing at night? Making yourself an easy target?"

"Then have a look at this one. This will definitely meet your requirements. It's made of adamantine, personally forged by a runesmith. The blade bears runes unique to dwarves, making an already hard blade even tougher!"

Renato examined the Orc Slayer. Thick and sturdy, with simple ornamentation and densely etched runes, it had a distinctly dwarven style. The hilt was made of an unusual material that even Oliver couldn't identify, but it felt warm and comfortable in his hand.

Renato liked this longsword even better. Unable to find even a minor fault with it, he could only answer honestly:

"A hundred gold coins is too expensive. It doesn't even have an actual spell on it. That's poor value for money."

"Uh... those are the only two magic longswords we currently have on consignment. Could you wait? I'll contact the guild and get you a list shortly. We should be able to have the goods transferred here in about two days."

"What about that sword?" Renato pointed to a rather ancient-looking broadsword with a crossguard in the corner of a shelf.

"That sword isn't magical, but that's not the problem. It has... a few issues left over from its past." Oliver paused, sounding somewhat conflicted.

The sword was about 1.5 meters long, a two-handed weapon of solid craftsmanship. Its blade narrowed toward the tip and broadened toward the hilt, with a sensible balance. By traditional standards, it was a good sword.

"Stop being mysterious. Tell me what's wrong with it."

"Technically, it's unfinished. It came from a young blacksmith in Fried City." Oliver tapped the ash out of his pipe. "The reckless young man actually tried to forge a weapon from adamantine, mithral, and steel all at once. He ignored the master smiths' objections and stole materials from the Blacksmiths' Guild. This sword was the result."

"Couldn't they just melt it down and reforge it?" The two-handed sword was awkward to swing indoors, so Renato could only raise and lower it in his hands. "Besides, it doesn't feel much lighter than a steel sword. Did he only add a little mithral?"

"The master smiths tried repeatedly, but their forges simply couldn't get hot enough to melt this longsword. Perhaps mixing the three metals caused some unknown change." Oliver smiled wryly. "And that's precisely the problem. Combining adamantine and mithral made both lose their distinctive properties."

"The weight of the adamantine and steel canceled out the lightness of a mithral weapon. The nature of the mithral and steel meant it couldn't offer the hardness of an adamantine weapon, either. And adding adamantine and mithral meant it no longer had the low price of a steel weapon..."

"What's more, its materials were the guild's communal property, so there was a dispute over ownership. Nobody would pay for the subsequent enchanting, and they eventually had to consign it to the Adventurers' Guild for sale. I don't know how long it's been here. It was already sitting in that corner when I arrived four years ago..."

"So how much is it? Surely someone would buy it if it were cheap enough?"

Oliver rubbed his hands together and said helplessly:

"It's certainly very cheap, but it does contain adamantine and mithral. To recoup the cost of the materials, the Blacksmiths' Guild set the minimum price at ten gold..."

"Three gold coins. That's all this sword is worth." Renato bargained without batting an eye. "There's just a little adamantine and mithral mixed in. It's mostly steel. The materials can't be worth much."

"Impossible! Look at how hard the blade is, and that bluish sheen. It can't be low in adamantine! Even with everyday use, it'll hold an edge far better than ordinary blades. But I can give you a special price-thirty percent off..."

"Four gold coins. That's the absolute limit for this lump of metal. I'm interested in its metallic properties, not using it as a sword. If you hadn't said a forge couldn't melt it, I wouldn't waste money on it at all!"

"You're putting me in a difficult position. I only work for the guild, after all. They set the prices, and I have very little say... six gold coins. I'll take a loss to make a friend."

"Five gold coins. Take it or leave it."

"I really can't offer that price. Please don't make fun of me. Listen..."

Renato turned and walked away without the slightest hesitation. Just as he stepped through the doors of the Crucible and the Joke, he heard Oliver's voice through gritted teeth:

"Five gold coins! Not a copper less!"

At that, Renato turned back with a smile and sincerely clasped the man's hand:

"Deal."

"Damn it, how does that brat have such a strong will?"

After Renato left, Oliver filled out the sales form he needed to submit to the guild.

"Suggestion didn't work on him at all. Ah, I must be having an off day..."

Oliver smoothly signed his name at the bottom of the form.

"Still, not bad. At least I sold it. A one-gold profit is still money."