Isolde and I approached the Storm Hollow cautiously. We had to be careful because the air here crackled with electricity. The hair on my arms stood on end as static electricity danced across my skin.

  Unlike the scorching heat of the Ashgrove or the bitter cold of the Frost Veil, this realm thrummed with power that was raw and untamed. Lightning arced between clouds that logically shouldn't exist under a forest canopy. It cast everything in stuttering blue-white illumination.

  But instead of finding the Storm Wyrm waiting for us, we stumbled upon a scene I hadn't expected.

  “Um…”

  “Hah! Thorvyn!”

  Ragna stood triumphantly atop a massive serpentine corpse, her club raised high. Lightning still crackled along the creature's scales, occasional discharges illuminating her face with electric blue light.

  She looked like a conqueror from some ancient myth. Wild red hair dancing in the wind, eyes bright with victory.

  "Ah, Isolde is there too! HAHA! You two missed the greatest fight!" she shouted when she spotted us. "This big snake thought it could zap me! Me! The daughter of storms!"

  Aren't I the one with a Storm Class…? I watched her laugh all by herself.

  Borric sat nearby on a fallen log, tending to minor burns on his forearms. But there was something different about him. The timid merchant had vanished, replaced by someone who held himself with newfound confidence.

  His eyes had the quiet satisfaction of a man who'd faced his fears and emerged victorious.

  "What happened here?" Isolde asked, staring at the Storm Wyrm's massive corpse in disbelief. It was gradually dissipating.

  The creature must have been fifty feet long, its serpentine body covered in scales that resembled polished metal more than flesh. Its gaping maw revealed teeth like lightning rods, and even in death, electricity pulsed beneath its translucent skin.

  "Hmm? Well that dragon lady friend you made came to our camp earlier," Ragna explained, sliding down the Wyrm's flank with practiced ease. "Said you two were hunting monsters without us, and that we should help! She sent that injured human Eldric, somewhere safe, then told us about this big lightning snake."

  "We didn't plan to fight it," Borric added, standing up with a wince. "Just to observe and report back. But then..."

  "But then I saw opportunity for glory!" Ragna's grin was infectious. "Dragon Aspect powers let me tank its lightning. Was perfect match!"

  Borric shook his head, but there was fondness in his exasperation. "She charged in before I could stop her. Nearly gave me a heart attack when that thing's first lightning blast hit her directly."

  "But it only made me stronger!" Ragna flexed dramatically. "Like drinking fire water but with more tingling."

  I examined the corpse more closely, noting the precision of the wounds. Despite Ragna's enthusiastic account, this hadn't been a battle of mere brute force. There were surgical strikes at key points along the creature's body. Places where scales overlapped to reveal vulnerable flesh beneath.

  "You must have identified its weak points," I said to Borric, impressed.

  He laughed and nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "Yes, my [Merchant's Eye] isn't just for appraising goods, you know? I could see where its electrical energy concentrated, creating temporary vulnerabilities when it prepared to attack."

  "So Borric would shout 'Now! Strike third scale on neck!' and I would hit there!" Ragna mimed swinging her club. "Big boom every time!"

  Surprisingly, hearing them talk caused a notification to flash before my eyes.

  [Due to observing successful combat tactics, your skill “Dragon's Eye” has gained insight.]

  That's interesting.

  I smiled at their unexpected teamwork. "And neither of you thought to wait for us?"

  "No. Waiting is for weak people," Ragna shrugged. "Besides, that Nezehra woman said you had big ice monster to fight. Seemed fair we each get our own."

  "Lady Nezehra," Isolde repeated, her tone carefully neutral. "She approached you directly? Did she do anything strange?”

  "Yes! Strange lady, scales on her neck when she turned certain way. Pretty but scary." Ragna mimicked shivering.

  I exchanged a glance with Isolde.

  Lady Nezehra hadn't told us that she'd get Ragna and Borric involved too. Her involvement was becoming increasingly suspicious, but I couldn't deny this orchestrated scenario of hers was a perfect chance for all of us to grow stronger.

  "Well… the creature surely wasn't easy to defeat," Borric admitted. "It nearly killed us both when it coiled around Ragna and channeled lightning directly through her body."

  "Yeah, my muscles still feel funny," Ragna admitted, rolling her shoulder with a grimace. "But I gained two levels! Now I'm Level 38. I caught up to you, Thorvyn."

  "You wish," I said with a smirk. "I'm Level 42 now. Finished the Ascension Quest.”

  Ragna went still, and then scowled at me. "That's cheating. You cheated.”

  "It's called efficiency."

  A bit more bantering later, Isolde spoke up. "Let's camp here for the night," she suggested, surveying the clearing. "We've all had enough excitement for one day, and we should leave the valley tomorrow."

  We were expecting a visit from the Naga Lady, so we decided to wait. No one argued with that.

  ****

  Evening settled over our camp with a symphony of distant thunder.

  The lingering smell of ozone permeated everything. Our clothes, our food, even the very air we breathed. We'd positioned ourselves at the edge of Storm Hollow, where the constant electrical discharges were less frequent but still illuminated the sky in regular intervals, casting our surroundings in brief flashes of electric blue.

  Borric nearly knocked over his bowl of stew as he jumped to his feet. "Ah, yes. I almost forgot in all the excitement! I reached Level 24 during the battle!"

  Isolde smiled warmly. "You did? That's great. Congratulations, Borric. Now you can choose a Class. We need to visit a temple though. Or…”

  Her eyes slowly flicked to me. I stayed quiet and she decided not to say anything else.

  "Indeed. That's why I wanted to ask for your advice," he said, suddenly looking uncertain again. "I... I'm not sure what would suit me best. Sorry this will delay things, but we should look for a temple on the way.”

  Ragna laughed, sipping from her wooden cup. "You should be Battle Merchant or something! Sell swords while swinging one!"

  "That's not a real Class, Ragna," Borric grumbled.

  I studied him thoughtfully.

  The man before me was so different from the trembling merchant we'd first met. That man was scared of pirates. Now, he might be able to defeat them all. Combat had changed him, revealed a steadfast core beneath his cautious exterior.

  The question wasn't what Class suited him now, but what Class would suit who he was becoming.

  "Although we don't know what options you have yet, it's not useless to discuss some basic ideas. So what do you enjoy most about the battle?" I asked. "Not the victory, but the process itself."

  Borric considered this, his expression turning inward. "Finding the patterns," he said finally. "Seeing how everything connected, I guess. For example, the Wyrm's movements, its energy flow, the environment. It was like reading a complex ledger where all the numbers suddenly made sense."

  "Tactician," Isolde suggested. "Or perhaps Battlefield Analyst?"

  "Both sound too martial," Borric shook his head. "I'm still a merchant at heart... I want to build, to trade, to grow."

  I remembered something from Earth. The intersection of combat and commerce. "In my... tribe," I began carefully, "there were stories of Merchant Princes who were as dangerous in negotiation as they were in battle. They didn't just trade goods; they traded in advantages, information, opportunities. Souls.”

  The concept of a “Merchant of Death” has been popular both in history and fiction back in my old world.

  Borric's eyes lit up. "That sounds more like what I've been feeling. Like my [Merchant's Eye] is evolving beyond simple appraisal."

  "You need something that combines your commercial instincts with your newfound tactical abilities," Isolde mused. “Alas, we need to find a temple first before we can decide.”

  Her eyes once again flicked to me, and her lips moved in an inaudible ‘unless…’ which I ignored.

  I had to be careful with the stuff I revealed. I hadn't understood how monumental the Ascension Quest situation was. I didn't want to escalate that.

  The conversation continued, the four of us laughing and theorizing under the electric sky. For a brief moment, it felt like we were just travelers sharing stories rather than fugitives racing against dark forces.

  The thunder overhead kept flashing blue-white through the trees, turning everyone’s faces into quick statues and then giving them back. Isolde sat beside me, closer than usual. Not touching, but close enough that I could feel her warmth whenever the wind shifted.

  “Tired?” I asked.

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  “Exhausted,” she admitted. “But it’s the good kind.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t. Borric and Ragna began to talk then; she was telling him some story about a hunt gone wrong, gesturing wildly with both hands while Borric leaned back to avoid getting hit. The firelight caught her hair and turned it copper, and when she laughed, the sound was unguarded.

  My eyes flicked to Isolde who was smiling toward Ragna without meaning to, making me raise an eyebrow. To my surprise, our Princess opened her mouth to share some stories too. It was about Zerina, Borric’s daughter.

  Apparently, there was something about Ragna that reminded her of Zerina. That same reckless confidence, that same refusal to be small. Although Borric said he didn’t see what she meant, Isolde was adamant.

  Interesting.

  A few minutes passed. Isolde’s posture held, proud as ever, until it didn’t. Her head drooped once, twice, and then settled against my shoulder like her body had made the decision without asking her pride for permission.

  She’d fallen half-asleep. It didn’t feel deep. Just… gone enough to stop pretending she wasn’t human.

  I stayed very still, watching the lightning dance overhead. Ragna glanced over, saw Isolde leaning on me, and lifted an eyebrow.

  I shook my head once. This isn’t my fault.

  Ragna kept staring, and I wasn’t sure what she thought about this. Isolde’s breath was warm against my arm. I didn’t move until she stirred again.

  We enjoyed the quiet space for half an hour. Then Isolde woke with a small sound of confusion, like she’d been caught doing something improper. She straightened too quickly, smoothing her hair like it mattered, eyes refusing to meet mine.

  “I…” she started.

  “You were tired,” I said.

  “Thorvyn, I didn’t mean to–”

  “It’s fine.”

  She stared at the fire instead of at me. “This doesn’t leave this camp.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “I mean it, Thorvyn.”

  “I said it wouldn’t.”

  Her eyes flicked to Ragna who waved at her. Isolde looked away. She finally looked at me, searching for any sign of mockery. She didn’t find any. I didn’t know what kind of expression I had, but I was smiling.

  “…Thank you,” she said, quieter.

  “For what?”

  “For not making it strange.”

  I almost said you’re the one making it strange, but I liked my princess polite and nice. This girl is doing stuff to my head, which can be problematic... I just nodded, and we went back to watching the storm like nothing had happened.

  ****

  Later, Isolde drew me away from camp with a quiet gesture. We walked until the crackling fires were just distant pinpoints of light, the constant low rumble of thunder providing privacy for our conversation.

  "I have questions about you, Thorvyn," she began without preamble. "So many questions, you know?"

  I was uncertain about how to respond, so I chose to remain silent. The revelation of my ability to view and reveal Ascension Quests must have created a chasm of confusion between us. One filled with unspoken suspicions and half-formed theories.

  "But I've decided something," she continued when I remained silent. "Whatever you are, Thorvyn, you've proven your intentions. At the very least, you’re better than Sir Allister, who stabbed me in the back. You protected me and fought for me. Your actions speak louder than any mystery."

  The tension in my shoulders eased slightly. "That's... unusually trusting of a Princess, don’t you think? Maybe you should be a bit more doubtful after all you’ve seen."

  "Trust is sometimes a conscious choice rather than a natural reaction. As for someone in my position who wishes to be Queen while unsure who else I can trust in this realm, my best choice is indeed a barbarian." Her blue hair caught the flash of distant lightning, briefly transformed into silver. "I choose to trust you, despite not understanding you."

  I considered her words carefully. "I don't fully understand myself either, if that helps."

  A faint smile touched her lips. "Strangely enough, it does."

  We stood in silence for a moment, both aware of the careful distance between us. Not just physical, but emotional. Something had shifted between us in the Ashgrove, and neither of us seemed certain how to navigate it.

  "We should head back," I finally said. "The others will wonder where we've gone."

  As we turned toward camp, reality itself seemed to fold inward about twenty paces ahead of us. The air rippled like water, and suddenly Lady Nezehra was there, lounging comfortably on a cushion of air as if she'd been present all along.

  "Well done, children," she said, her golden eyes shifting to emerald as she blinked. "I'm quite pleased with your performance."

  Isolde stiffened beside me, but maintained her royal composure. "Lady Nezehra. We were just discussing your involvement in all this."

  "I'm sure you were," the dragon woman replied, her lips curving into a smile that revealed teeth just slightly too sharp to be human. "Shall we rejoin your companions? I believe they'll want to hear what I have to say as well."

  We returned to camp to find Ragna and Borric already staring wide-eyed at Nezehra's sudden appearance. She'd simply manifested there as well, or perhaps split herself into two presences. Given what I'd seen of her power, either seemed possible.

  One of them waved at us, vanishing into the thin air. The other began to speak.

  "I couldn't handle the aberrations myself," she explained as she examined her perfectly manicured nails. "My power is too vast for such delicate work. Like using a hurricane to blow out a candle. The collateral damage would have been... excessive."

  "Yes, you’ve told us that before. You used us to fix things," I said flatly.

  Her color-shifting eyes fixed on me. "I employed you. There's a difference." She gestured lazily, and four small pouches materialized in the air before floating down to each of us. "Your payment, as promised. Information, and a little something extra."

  I caught my pouch, feeling the weight of several heavy coins inside. But more intriguing was the small scroll tied with a ribbon of shifting colors.

  "Three revelations, as agreed," Lady Nezehra continued. "First, regarding Prince Kaelan of Thalassaria."

  Isolde leaned forward intently.

  "Your brother is a fool, but not the architect of the current troubles. He’s just a puppet for the Grey Sentinel. He's being manipulated by a cult that's using him to drain the land's energy for a greater purpose." Nezehra's voice remained casual, as if discussing the weather rather than kingdom-threatening conspiracies. "The drought affecting Erebia isn't totally natural. It's a symptom of this draining. If the Emperor learns what's happening, he'll have your brother's head and might just as well destroy your entire country in retribution."

  That name again. The Grey Sentinel, I noted with a frown. It had an ominous vibe attached to it.

  "...The rituals aren't helping Thalassaria?" Isolde asked, her face paling.

  "They're accelerating its corruption while making it appear productive on the surface," Nezehra confirmed. "Like painting a fresh face on a rotting corpse."

  Charming analogy, I thought, watching Isolde process this information with growing horror.

  "Second revelation," Nezehra continued, "concerns your mother, Princess."

  The air seemed to still around us. Even Ragna, normally restless, sat motionless.

  "She possessed what we call a Reflect Mage class, which can be said to be a precursor to your Mirror Sovereign. It's like comparing snow manipulation to true ice mastery. Your abilities are far superior." Nezehra's eyes gleamed with something like approval. "She left Thalassaria because she discovered the corruption beginning to take root in the royal court. She encountered a lot on that journey, but to no avail. She fled to protect her knowledge and her children, but died from a well-placed poison after she returned without finding help. Even I’m unsure who poisoned her, though."

  That was shocking news even for me. Isolde's hands trembled slightly, but her voice remained steady. "What knowledge?"

  "The locations of the kingdom's major ley lines and how they connect to the crown itself," Nezehra replied. "Knowledge your brother's puppet masters would kill to possess."

  The crown jewel, I realized. It must be connected to these ley lines somehow.

  "Finally," Nezehra said, "a warning about Veridian. It sits on an ancient convergence of ley lines. The magical disturbances are worst there, which is why I think your uncle is gathering forces. He senses the threat, even if he doesn't understand its nature. The keyword here is ‘I think,’ so please be careful."

  Her expression grew serious for the first time. "The veil between worlds grows thin there. What seeps through isn't friendly."

  A chill ran down my spine at her words. The concept of worlds beyond worlds wasn't theoretical to me. I was living proof of their existence. But the idea of something malevolent slipping through those boundaries...

  “Honestly… I’d suggest you don’t trust anyone outside these three here. This is quite the peculiar time for you, Princess. It’s a pity that you didn’t accept my offer.” She said, and the princess remained quiet. A lot was in her head. Suddenly, Nezehra's attention fixed on me with laser focus. "You, barbarian... Do you have a [Quest]?"

  I blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject. "Uh, no. I just completed my Ascension Quest."

  She waved dismissively. "No, not that trivial thing. A world-class Quest. Do you?"

  "I don't understand what you're asking," I replied honestly. "What's a world-class Quest?"

  Her eyes narrowed, studying me with renewed interest. "So you don’t… and yet…” she let out a breath. “Indeed. You're much more interesting than the Princess now."

  The mark on my palm tingled, and I suddenly realized she must have been watching through it all this time. Dammit, she must have heard or seen me reveal Isolde’s Ascension Quest. I need to be more careful.

  "Alas," she sighed, "someone like you might be too troublesome for me to meddle with."

  The comment left me even more confused, but I doubted pressing for clarification would get me anywhere with this woman, given the way her eyes sparkled. At the same time, I remembered something from our journey here.

  "The blacksmith in Millhaven mentioned a place called Cinderheart Forge," I said. "Built into a mountain, supposedly made by a smith trained by giants. Do you know anything about it?"

  A slow smile spread across Nezehra's face. "Yes, yes, I know who that is," she admitted with a playful tone. "It’s me."

  Borric choked on his drink. Ragna's eyes widened to comical proportions.

  "You're a blacksmith too?" I asked incredulously.

  "I'm many things, barbarian. I've lived a very long time… even though I didn’t get a lot of the things I desired in life." She extended her hand. "Speaking of which, your weapon is an embarrassment. Give it to me."

  I hesitated, then unhooked my crystallized axe from my belt. Before handing it over, though, I remembered something else. “You must be some big shot in this world to be experimenting inside a forest like this, and also being a blacksmith of legends.”

  "Such mortal labels," she scoffed, but didn't deny it. Instead, she turned to Borric who was still cautious around her presence. "Speaking of which..."

  She touched his forehead gently. "Reveal Class Choices."

  The air before Borric shimmered, forming a display of options that hovered in golden light. We could see them too. His eyes widened in wonder as he reached out to touch them.

  [Available Classes for Borric, the Aspiring Merchant]

  - Merchant Lord

  - Combat Broker

  - Treasure Seeker

  - …

  - …

  - …

  There were more.

  "Choose wisely," she advised. "A Class is more than power. It's destiny given form."

  Then she snapped her fingers, and reality split open beside her. A strange sense of cosmic rushed through the crack. Through the tear, I glimpsed what looked like a workshop floating in the cosmos itself. Stars, nebulae, and strange energies swirled beyond a forge that defied physical laws.

  The heat that emanated from it felt ancient, primordial.

  She took my axe and stepped through the portal. "Help your friend choose a good class. I'll return by the time you guys are finished."

  The tear sealed behind her, leaving us staring at empty air.

  We all stared at the space where she’d stood a moment ago, stunned at the sight we’d just seen. Outer space. I shook my head and turned as one to Borric, whose gaze remained fixed on the shimmering array of Class options hovering before him. The choices glowed with potential.

  Each of them was a different path, each a different destiny.

  "So," I said, breaking the stunned silence. "What catches your eye?"

  Borric looked between us and the floating choices, overwhelmed by the weight of decision. "I... I don't know which to choose," he admitted. "It feels like standing at a crossroads where every path leads to a different version of myself."

  I understood that feeling all too well. In this world of power and magic, choices weren't just decisions. They were transformations, doorways into new existences.

  As we gathered around Borric to help him decide, I couldn't shake the feeling that Lady Nezehra had left more questions than answers.

  What was a world-class Quest? Why did she find me "interesting"? And most importantly, what was coming through the weakened veil in Veridian?

  Some mysteries would have to wait. For now, we had a merchant to help become something more.

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