“Hey, where’s my food? It’s been twenty minutes already,” yelled a man with a thick, curly beard.

  “Coming.” Irene, a girl with a short red ponytail, set a tray of grilled fish and a steaming bowl of soup on the counter. Zalanir—in a long black apron—picked the dish up and brought it to the bearded customer.

  “You’re getting closer to your pa’s cooking every day.” The man laughed while gnawing on the whitefish, downing the entire upper section without spitting out a single bone.

  “Only closer? That dish will vanish from the menu after today.” Irene planted her arms on her hips.

  “Irene, I’d eat anything you make. Your food’s the best,” said a man in blue armor, waving dismissively.

  “Keep talking like that and pa will make your life hell.”

  “What? He will be my future father-in-law. There’s no way he’d do that.” The man glanced around and then turned his attention back to the kitchen.

  “I want a rib portion. Make it medium only. Hmm, also a cup of that drink.” A woman in a full white armor set pointed at a red-yellow drink on a nearby table, which earned her a salute from a man whose green scales filled his face instead of the normal human’s skin.

  Zalanir took note, whirled around, and approached a couple who had just settled down on a corner table. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Oh, new guy? Two ape blood.” The woman spoke without even looking at the menu.

  “Err, no food?”

  “No, we’re fine.”

  “Pa, you’re back. Get me a supply crate from the back. My hands are full.” Irene shouted at Dakrua who crossed his arms as he noticed the blue-armored man inside the restaurant.

  “So you are here? At this hour? Go back to the gate and stand guard until midnight,” Dakrua said.

  “Ugh. And I just got here… Irene, I’ll be back tomorrow. Save the food for me.” That man left his seat immediately, but not before waving goodbye to Irene.

  “Double charge then.” She chuckled without even turning back.

  “One medium rib portion and a cup of spring tea. Two cups of ape blood. What else? Ah, one plate of bees and their honey—the customer wants them separated.” The man in the black apron relayed the list of orders to the girl in charge of the kitchen.

  Well, Zalanir had never imagined himself as a waiter, but with the restaurant this busy, helping out felt right. He owed Dakrua a debt for the rescue, and working here, even if only for a short while, would put his mind at ease.

  He knew the chef wasn’t young, but to have a grown-up daughter capable of running the restaurant when Dakrua was away on duties? Just wild. Apparently, the man was almost double his age. He couldn’t have guessed the chef’s age from his energetic appearance alone, though Dakrua did have the sort of calmness that came with age, now that he thought about this.

  Dakrua was impressive, plain and simple. Being in the 50s and still charging spear-first into battle—like he had done in the chamber—wasn’t something happened every day. Heck, Zalanir’s simple wish was to be able to play a set or two of tennis at that age.

  “What are you daydreaming for? Go serve the customers!” A slap on the shoulder startled Zalanir out of his reverie, the pungent aroma of toasted garlic and the fresh, earthy scent of crushed vegetable roots wafting from the kitchen.

  “Oops. Sorry.” He smiled at Irene, took the two trays on the counter, and returned to the busy activities of the restaurant again.

  “You’ve been of great help.” Dakrua said after stacking the last chair to its place on top of the dining table.

  “Nah, it’s me who should thank you. Without you, I could’ve lost my life already. Four days of being unconscious. Never thought it’d be that long.” Zalanir spat a fish bone onto the plate. He could eat this father and daughter’s cooking all day.

  “So, the council has decided on the date.” Dakrua turned serious. “Tomorrow afternoon, at the main hall. I will bring you there.”

  Zalanir stopped with the food. They sure worked fast. He had only woken up this noon and hadn’t even stepped out of Dakrua’s house, yet the court summons was already here.

  He couldn’t blame the chef for reporting his situation to the council as soon as he regained consciousness. Dakrua was an enforcer in charge of the city’s security, after all. The man seemed calm on the outside, but Zalanir doubted it there was more to it. Who could’ve stayed composed after witnessing such a massacre, particularly one involving fellow enforcers? To be fair, though, he didn’t feel like these enforcers were that close to each other.

  “Do I have to prepare anything?”

  “Not really. Your job, or our job, was to tell what happened. The final decision will be up to the council.”

  “Can you tell me what this council is? I assume they are in charge of overseeing the city’s development and well-being and such, but who are they? What can they do and can’t do?”

  Dakrua leaned onto the counter, his hands wiping the cups with a light red towel. “The council has the highest authority in the city and decides everything. They run this city. There is nothing they can’t do, except for waging war? I am not sure about that, because while they can order the enforcers to do everything they want, there is still the capital, and we don’t want internal conflict. Basically, the council can do whatever they want, as long as they deem it beneficial to the city.” The chef shifted to clean the bowls after finishing with all the cups. “The council has five members. Three seats belong to, well, the three biggest powers, while the last two are in the hands of the academy and us enforcers.”

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  “The three biggest powers? The academy? Can you tell me more about them?” Zalanir didn’t miss the chance to follow up on these powers. They made up the council, after all, and he would face that very council tomorrow.

  “Of course those three would grab a seat each on the council. I think every city council in the country reserves seats for them, given how powerful they are. As for the academy, well, technically there are three academies in Yebin, but the biggest one is Ecilo Academy, whose Headmaster holds one of the five seats.”

  Zalanir scratched his head. He only remembered two names from the time they came to recruit back at Bodylovo: Zerkshi and Vendona. Were they the ones Dakrua talked about? A thought gripped his mind, as he just realized he had no general knowledge about power and structures, or even the map of the country he was in.

  “Sorry, I’m from a secluded area, so I don’t know much about the names of powerful organizations in the country. Are you perhaps referencing the Vendona merchant and Zerkshi mercenary?”

  “Correct. The last one is Clotserinn. Unlike Vendona and Zerkshi, which continue to strengthen their leading positions in trade and fighting, Clotserinn spreads their influence across every aspect of life. Every corner of the country has their presence, whether it is trade, mission, entertainment, or weapon forging. Their influence is the strongest of the three due to the sheer number of footholds they have established.” Dakrua arranged all the newly wiped bowls and cups neatly in the cupboard up high inside the kitchen.

  “And all of them will be there tomorrow? That will certainly be … an intimidating gathering. Say, how strong are these councilors?”

  Dakrua grabbed another towel and wiped the counter. “Does it matter? It’s the power behind them that is terrifying. However, I think all of them are at least late C-grade. I only know that our general is B-grade.”

  Oh, not as strong as he had guessed. C-grade meant they were similar in power to the captain and the prophet. Didn’t I kill one of those? Zalanir suppressed a smirk, maintaining a neutral look. Not that he enjoyed or could claim the kill, but the fact that happened was still a testament to his power — or the soul’s power.

  “Hypothetically speaking, what do you think will happen tomorrow? I mean, the raid ended up a disaster, with only three coming back alive,” Zalanir voiced his concerns.

  “Hard to say. Hard to say.” Dakrua kept wiping the same spot over and over.

  Zalanir pressed the issue no more and returned to the unfinished dish. He had lost all the appetite, but not like he could waste the food in front of a chef. It would be an absolute disrespect if he did that.

  The cat was already gone by the time he got back to his room. Irene had told him earlier that this room was for the waiter, but since they hadn’t had one for a while, he could use it for the time being.

  Laying his back onto the hard wooden bed, Zalanir checked the lantern and the three souls, and after seeing that nothing was out of the ordinary, he got into the action again by throwing his mana at the smallest of the three. The lantern let his attack pass through without any obstruction, and even unexpectedly, powering his attack somewhat by changing his mana into the dark green signature of it. Not sure how much it mattered, but still, never said no to free stuff.

  The small soul didn’t respond; it just slept there, letting his attack bounce off its body. On the other hand, the biggest one slammed its own section’s border non-stop, howling like a mad beast.

  A kitten, a cat, and a lion — Zalanir decided to call these three based on their size, ascending from the smallest to the largest. He wanted to use toddler, but chose to reserve that name for sentimental reasons. The first of many was a milestone worthy of that treatment.

  He still wasn’t yet sure how to proceed from here. If he released the lion, could he be possessed again? That savage, bloodthirsty sensation was still fresh in his mind, and there was no doubt that it gave him immense power. This could be his trump card when push came to shove, but he had no control over it. Using it recklessly could recreate the same situation in the cultist lair, and he didn’t want that.

  He had to start with the kitten first. Small as it was, it could be the best for him to learn how to use Soul Collection. But first, he would need to wake it up. The crude method of attacking didn’t seem to work, so perhaps he had to take a gentle approach.

  [Soul Collection] — Universal unique: Grants the ability to mend and preserve souls with your energy, and allows you to become their expression. Grants the [Lantern of Verizss’ia] skill.

  Soul Collection did grant him the power to mend the soul, after all. Though unlike the toddler, who would gladly take his mana, this one was out of consciousness. How would he do this?

  After several failed attempts, Zalanir pulled back from the issue for now. Knowledge. He sighed. He needed to study the ways of this world.

  He stayed like that for a while, but then shook his head and pulled up the Notification tab. He had been avoiding looking at this, but still, something had to be done. What had happened had already happened. Running away from this would change nothing.

  You have slain [Blazethatch Stag — Level 49]

  …

  You have slain [Human — Level 44]

  You have slain [Human — Level 45]

  Level advances to 48

  Just how many had he killed? Each notification was like a knife, cutting at him one stroke at a time. Was this the first step for him toward becoming a serial killer? Zalanir sighed, took a moment, then continued to scroll down. Had to finish this.

  You have slain [Human — Level 39]

  …

  You have slain [Human — Level 84]

  Level advances to 50

  Evolution Quests available

  You have slain [Human — Level 44]

  …

  You have gained the skill [Mark of the Black Mist] — Rare

  You have slain [Human — Level 46]

  …

  You have slain [Shadowfused Bear — Level 69]

  Self-Fulfillment Quest completed

  You have unlocked evolution options for [Mastery: Magical Apprentice]. Choose wisely, as it will have profound effects on your path and future choices.

  What? Is this real?