The fifty extra gold coins felt… peculiar in my pouch. Not for their value, which was laughably insignificant in the grand scheme of universal economies (the going rate for a fledgling solar system was considerably higher), but for what they represented: a mortal's attempt to quantify the unquantifiable. To put a price on an event that had bent the fabric of their local reality. It was, in its own way, charmingly absurd.
As we stepped out of the Adventurer's Guild, the whispers followed us like a clinging mist. Heads turned. Conversations died, then reignited in hushed, urgent tones. I could feel their gazes – a cocktail of fear, awe, disbelief, and an almost predatory curiosity. It seemed my 'assistance' had not gone unnoticed. So much for a quiet vacation.
"Okay," Elara breathed out, the sound a mix of exhilaration and lingering shock. She fanned her face dramatically. "That was… something. I feel like I need to lie down for a week. Or maybe run around screaming. Or both! Rael, are you sure you're not some kind of… deity in disguise? Like in those old legends?"
I offered a noncommittal smile. "Deity is such a strong word, Elara. Prone to misinterpretation and excessive paperwork. I prefer 'concerned cosmic tourist'."
Seris, walking beside me, was a study in barely contained turmoil. Her usual icy composure was still fractured, revealing glimpses of the profound unease beneath. Her hand kept straying to the hilt of her rapier, not out of aggression, but as if seeking a familiar anchor in a suddenly unfamiliar world.
"Concerned tourist," she repeated, her voice low. "A tourist who can unravel Void Heralds with a glance. Forgive me if I find that… difficult to categorize under 'standard E-Ranker skillset'."
"Life is full of unique talents," I replied, observing a street vendor hawking roasted nuts. The aroma was surprisingly pleasant. Earthy. Grounded. A stark contrast to the lingering ozone of my earlier exertions. "Perhaps my talent lies in efficient problem resolution."
"'Efficient problem resolution'," Elara giggled, the tension slowly ebbing from her, replaced by a manic energy. "That's what you call it? Seris, did you hear that? He's the universe's politest exterminator! We should get him a business card!"
"Elara," Seris warned, though there was no real heat in her tone. She looked at me, a new, almost desperate plea in her eyes. "We need to talk, Rael. Properly. Not in a goblin cave, not in a crowded guildhall. Somewhere… private."
"An excellent suggestion," I agreed. "My observations indicate that sustenance is often conducive to mortal discourse. Shall we find an establishment that serves something other than existential dread?"
Elara's eyes lit up. "The Drunken Dragon! It's the best tavern in town! Their Shadowfire Ale is legendary! Though maybe 'shadow' is a bit of a sore subject right now…"
The Drunken Dragon was… boisterous. The air was thick with the smell of ale, roasting meat, and unwashed adventurers. A bard in the corner was valiantly attempting a heroic ballad, largely ignored by the rowdy patrons. It was a microcosm of mortal life: loud, messy, and brimming with a chaotic, infectious vitality. I found a relatively secluded booth in the corner.
Ordering was an experience. Elara, buoyed by a mixture of adrenaline and relief, ordered enough food to feed a small platoon. Seris, more reserved, opted for a simple stew and water. When the serving wench, a buxom woman with a no-nonsense attitude, asked for my order, I paused.
"What would you recommend for one who has… transcended the need for conventional sustenance but appreciates the performative aspect of communal dining?" I inquired politely.
The wench stared at me. Elara choked on her water. Seris buried her face in her hands.
"He'll have the Dragon's Breath Chili, extra spicy," Elara chirped quickly, elbowing me. "He likes a challenge!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Chili that breathes fire? Intriguing. Does it also offer insights into the fundamental nature of combustion?"
The chili, when it arrived, was indeed… potent. The mortals around me would have found it excruciating. To me, it was a mildly piquant sensation, like a distant star briefly flaring in my perception. I ate it slowly, observing my companions. Elara was recounting the day's events to an increasingly horrified, then awestruck, then utterly confused Seris, her voice animated, hands waving. Seris mostly listened, her gaze flicking to me periodically, her mind clearly racing.
It wasn't long before our newfound 'fame' found us. A group of adventurers, clearly a few ranks higher than our B-Rank duo, swaggered over. Their leader, a hulking brute with a scar bisecting his face and an air of misplaced arrogance, leaned on our table, his shadow falling over Elara.
"Well, well, if it isn't the heroes of the hour," he sneered, his eyes lingering on Seris. "Seraphina, Elara. Heard you two had a bit of a tussle out in Whisperwind. And dragged an E-Ranker into it. Lucky he didn't get you killed." He then looked at me, his expression contemptuous. "Or maybe you got lucky, whelp. Heard you fainted and they had to carry you out."
Elara bristled. "That's not what happened at all! Rael was amazing! He—"
Seris cut her off, her voice like chilled steel. "Our mission's details are our own, Vorlag. And we weren't 'dragged' anywhere. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're trying to eat."
Vorlag chuckled, a nasty sound. "Feisty. I like feisty. But word is a Void Herald was involved. And somehow, you three amateurs stumbled out alive. Smells fishy to me. Maybe you got some… special help?" His gaze flicked to me again, dismissive. "Or maybe the Herald died of boredom looking at this one."
The air crackled. I could feel Seris's anger, a tightly controlled inferno. Elara was trembling, more from indignation than fear.
I set down my spoon. The ambient noise of the tavern seemed to fade slightly, the boisterous laughter dimming as if a subtle pressure was being applied to the room. I didn't look at Vorlag. I continued to stir my chili, my movements unhurried.
"Vorlag, was it?" I said, my voice quiet, yet it carried perfectly over the sudden dip in tavern noise. "A name that means 'wolf' in some forgotten dialect of a world long since turned to dust. An interesting choice. Tell me, do you often find yourself… barking up the wrong cosmological tree?"
Vorlag blinked, a flicker of unease in his eyes. He hadn't expected me to speak, let alone with such… odd pronouncements. "What are you babbling about, runt?"
I finally looked up, meeting his gaze. I didn't channel power. I didn't unveil any cosmic horrors. I simply… focused. I let him see, just for a fraction of a second, not the unassuming E-Ranker, but the being that looked out from behind these eyes. The being that had witnessed the birth and death of galaxies, that had woven the tapestry of existence with thoughts.
It wasn't a threat. It was a statement of fact. You are insignificant.
Vorlag stumbled back a step, his bravado deflating like a punctured lung. His face paled. The scar on his face seemed to stand out more starkly against his suddenly clammy skin. His cronies, sensing their leader's abrupt shift, shuffled nervously.
"I… uh…" Vorlag stammered, his eyes wide with a confusion and a primal fear he couldn't name. "We… we were just… leaving." He practically tripped over his own feet backing away, his entourage scrambling after him.
The tavern slowly returned to its previous noise level, though many curious and now wary glances were cast our way.
Elara stared at me, mouth agape. "Rael! That was… wow! You didn't even do anything! You just… looked at him!"
"Sometimes," I said, returning to my chili, "a clear articulation of relative existential standing is sufficient to resolve minor social friction."
Seris was watching me with an expression that was a maelstrom of emotions. Fear, yes, but also a grudging respect, and that ever-present, burning curiosity. "You… you have a way of making problems… disappear."
"I prefer to think of it as encouraging them to re-evaluate their life choices," I corrected mildly.
After the interruption, a more somber mood settled. Elara, for once, was quiet, picking at her food. Seris finally put down her spoon.
"Rael," she began, her voice low and earnest. "I'm not going to ask what you are again. I don't think my brain could handle the answer. But… why are you here? In this town? Taking E-Rank goblin quests? With your… capabilities… you could rule kingdoms. Reshape continents. Why associate with us?"
It was a fair question. One I'd pondered myself in fleeting moments between orchestrating supernovas and contemplating the heat death of universes.
"Perhaps," I said, my gaze distant, as if looking through the tavern walls to the stars beyond, "even beings of… considerable scope… occasionally seek a change of scenery. A simpler narrative. This world, this era… it's at an interesting inflection point. Mana is awakening. Civilizations are stirring. It's like watching a garden you planted eons ago finally begin to bloom."
Elara's eyes widened. "You… you planted this world?"
"Not this specific world, perhaps," I clarified, a hint of amusement in my tone. "More of a… universal franchise. I had a hand in the initial conditions. The fundamental laws. The potential for… interesting developments." I gestured vaguely to encompass everything. "You, Seraphina, and you, Elara, are two such interesting developments."
"Us?" Seris looked taken aback. "We're just… adventurers."
"Are you?" I met her gaze. "Or are you sparks capable of igniting something far greater? Potential is a curious thing. It can lie dormant for ages, or it can flare into brilliance when conditions are right." I paused, letting the weight of my words settle. "The Void Herald was not an isolated incident. It was a symptom. A minor tremor before a larger quake. This world is more fragile than it appears. And the cracks are beginning to show."
Elara shivered. "Cracks? What kind of cracks?"
"Cracks in the fabric of reality," I said, my voice dropping to a near whisper, yet resonating with an ancient authority. "Places where the mundane wears thin, and things from… Outside… can seep through. The Void is one such 'Outside,' but there are others. Older. Hungrier."
Seris leaned forward, her expression grim. "And you're here to… what? Stop it? Observe its destruction?"
"Observation is my primary pastime," I admitted. "But I confess, I have a certain fondness for well-tended gardens. And a distinct dislike for those who would trample the flowers." My eyes, for a moment, seemed to hold the cold, distant light of dying stars. "The Herald was a weed. There will be more. Some, perhaps, that even I might find… challenging to prune without disrupting the entire ecosystem."
A shiver ran down Elara's spine. Seris's hand tightened on her rapier. The implication was clear: they were on the precipice of something far larger, far more dangerous than they could have ever imagined. And I, this enigma in E-Ranker's clothing, was somehow at the center of it.
"So," Seris said slowly, her mind racing to connect the terrifying, awe-inspiring dots. "Our little goblin quest… was just the beginning?"
I smiled, a genuine, almost predatory smile that sent a fresh wave of goosebumps down their arms. "My dear Seraphina, Elara," I said, my voice a low, thrilling rumble. "The overture has barely concluded. The true symphony is about to begin. And I have a feeling you two will have front-row seats."
Just then, the tavern door creaked open. A figure stood silhouetted against the dying light – tall, cloaked, exuding an aura of quiet authority that silenced the room more effectively than Vorlag's bluster or even my subtle pressure.
"Seraphina Valerius? Elara Lyra? And… Rael?" The voice was calm, cultured, but held an underlying resonance of power. "The Guildmaster Garon sends his compliments. He, and certain other… interested parties… would like a word. It seems your recent exploits have attracted significant attention."
Seris and Elara exchanged wide-eyed glances. My smile widened.
Ah, the bureaucracy of mortal affairs. Always so delightfully… predictable. And yet, sometimes, even a Creator could be surprised by the tenacity of gnats. Or, perhaps, by the unexpected brilliance of blooming flowers.