The workshop—a shed behind the tower's illusion—smelled of ozone and sweat.
Every eye was on Konrad, skeptical as his hands hovered over the bracelet.
Stella's expression boiled with hatred, promising trouble whether he succeeded or not.
"You sure, kid?" Vargas nodded at her. "You're about to remove what keeps her civil."
"She escaped while wearing it," Konrad pointed out, "and I need that artifact."
Zoltan retreated into the farthest corner.
"If you mess this up, it can kill her—or you, or blow up everyone else here."
Kondrad sighed, trying to focus.
"I overcharged a few, and I'm still alive." He pushed his doubts aside, summoning a rune. He drew a pentagram beforehand, so it should've been easy—but those stares started to get to him.
"You said it was different, wearing it," Welf noted, joining the hecklers.
"Mhm, I was starving, in the dark, and Miss Lanky whipped me for the fun of it." His words came out more venomous than he meant them. "How am I going to manage without all that?"
The executioner's face flushed from a crossfire of stares. Konrad used that moment to recover.
The transfer was simple—he had enough mana to do it in one go, but he wanted to test the Green Mage's siphon, too. In hindsight, it was a terrible idea now that he also had an audience.
His palms were sweating, and the runes felt foreign.
It wasn't about the stares alone—this time, he experimented on someone else.
A spark could have ignited all that hatred in Stella's eyes, but the thought of ending her still felt wrong. How come he never hesitated against the Rabid Crows?
He wanted to rule, seeking power and control, to give oppressors a taste of their own medicine.
She of all people deserved it for sure, but—was it because she was a woman?
Konrad shook his head, curious glances almost burning his temple.
He blocked them out. His doubts, Zoltan's fear—Vargas's greedy gaze.
He focused on the new symbols he had learned, threading his immense power into the bracelet's core. The artifact pushed back—same as before, despite the different approach.
"Hmm, you should try her instead," Lily noted, watching him in silence until now.
Her demonic eyes must've seen everything, but—
"Wha—her?" Konrad raised an eyebrow. It took him a second to figure out. "Oh, good idea."
Last time, focusing mana on the bracelet didn't work, and it almost burned Stella.
But with the right tool, he could've channeled his power into her without harm. Then the artifact could drain it away, plain and simple. Was Lily a genius in secret?
He took a deep breath before trying again.
The executioner winced, her arm hot against his palm, and the silver darkened.
His audience sounded excited, murmuring in the background, but he kept his focus.
Konrad didn't want any of that backlash from before. No nose bleeds. Careful and slow.
A web of cracks spread across the bracelet, and it began to swell. He activated the Mage's pentagram, too, recharging his mana at the same pace as he used it.
Stella gasped, her back arching—somehow reminding him of his night with Lily.
His control almost slipped, his pants bulging, his face flushed.
A sharp crack snapped him out of the embarrassment, as the bracelet shattered.
The quarter-pound silver became a lump of adamantite, many times its original size.
Vargas whistled. "Well, I can take my payment in that thing." He stepped forward.
Konrad almost missed the greedy claim, heart still hammering.
That was more than he ever made from one artifact in the catacombs. Was it the slow pace?
"That'll make many swords—or two full plates." Welf's eyes gleamed, too. "My father will rally the entire tribe for this much."
"Swords, huh?" Vargas chuckled. "That's even better than the raw ore. Count me in, kid."
Konrad knew he could do it, but didn't expect such a smooth success.
No nose bleed; his mana was full—and Stella was alive, too. The pentagram regulated the flow of essence much better than he had done without it.
If only he could decipher the scribbles from the codex's margins—
"So, uh, what of her?" Zoltan pointed a shaking finger at Stella, who was massaging her wrist. Right. He only solved half of the problem. "I don't want anything to do with the Inquisition."
Vargas also shrugged.
"Yeah, kid, I'm the Guard's Captain. Bringing her back was already troublesome. Lord Schwertburg would hang me if I started a war with the Church, although—"
He drew his dagger, flipping it hilt forward.
"There is a simple, permanent solution to make her not an Inquisition member anymore."
Konrad paled. He hoped the captain would earn the pay he had demanded, but not like this.
He glanced at Lily, hoping for another valuable insight.
"Not my problem," she mumbled, looking everywhere but at him. That tone again. She must've had her reasons, but she wouldn't tell.
Murdering her in cold blood was the simplest solution, but—
He sighed, examining the executioner's androgynous face. Lost in thought, he only registered the ruckus outside when the workshop's door swung open. It almost smashed into his face.
Gabrielle entered on cue, her blue dress immaculate. She wasn't alone, either.
"Oh, if it isn't the Prodigy of Haiten," a familiar face greeted him. A peddler he had known for a while—the same who'd brought him to Aset about two months ago. It felt like a lifetime.
"What kind of gathering is this?" Gabrielle scoffed, but her face, too—
It told him she knew exactly what she was walking into.
Were his haremettes scheming behind his back? She didn't arrive at the right moment by accident; that was for sure. But they kept playing the clueless—and were terrible at it.
"I heard there was a commotion," Gabrielle announced. Her eyes lingered on Stella and the drawn dagger. "Still collecting problems like trophies, my dear husband-to-be."
The merchant wrung his cap in his hands.
"So it's true? The Prodigy became a noble?" he asked. His way of using that name was very different from Stella's. "To think, the contact your highness had mentioned was Ser Ostfeld—"
"Contact?" Konrad narrowed his eyes.
Also, husband-to-be? And he thought the duke's daughter came for Stella.
"Yes, I'm heading towards Halaima with grain, but—I couldn't hire guards," the peddler claimed. "Mercenaries are either gone or too expensive these days."
Oh. That could've been his doing.
Dealing with the Rabid Crows made things hectic. He didn't care much, as long as he saved the Black River tribe and—Wait. Hold on.
"Grain, you say?" Konrad felt the wheels turning. "You have a buyer for it?"
He already sent Eyna to sort things out, but he didn't have to go empty-handed, either. Better yet, if he could get the rest of the tribe a lift—
"Your insights are most welcome, Konrad," the merchant bowed.
That was what he wanted to hear.
"I'll buy your shipment—and lend you an escort until Halaima," he offered, pointing at the ore he made moments ago. "I uh, started a trading company, and pay with pure adamantite—"
Stella scoffed, recovering her snarkiness now that her bracelet was off.
That drew Gabrielle's gaze.
"Talking about trading," she smirked, her face eerie. It sent a chill down Konrad's spine—and even Stella seemed to be shaking. "Would you mind lending this thing out to me?"