Scamantha crouched by the bags and flung them open with a flourish. The stench of herbs, oils, and… something vaguely metallic spilled into the clearing.

  “Look, look!” she said, digging with both hands and tossing objects onto the ground like a street vendor trying to start an auction. “Elixir of Steel Veins… makes your blood iron-rich! Terrible side effect: minor petrification of toes. But in the right dungeon? Very handy.” A squat green vial rolled out, its cork already half-rotted.

  Fty blinked once, slowly.

  “And this!” Scamantha pulled out what looked like a melted orb of resin with feathers stuck inside. “Phoenix egg remnant. Not alive, but if you smash it on armor, sometimes it catches fire. Tactical, yes?”

  Next came a jagged black rod. “Lightning wand. Broken. But! If lightning strikes you while holding it; instant discharge! Very situational.”

  He rubbed his temples. It was like watching someone sell accidents in a bottle.

  “And…” Scamantha lowered her voice, eyes flicking toward Yuki. “I also have info. Not just any info… another legendary sword.”

  Yuki perked up, read the first lines of the offered card and then shook her head quickly. “I already checked. It’s legendary, but… unpowered. Decorative, really.”

  “Caliburn!” Scamantha’s eyes went starry, mouth splitting into a grin. “The blade of the half-king! Still counts! Here, here—” She fished out a bottle of murky liquid, the glass faintly cracking with unstable energy. “Free potion! Just for you!”

  Yuki leaned back, waving both hands. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

  “Eh, your loss,” Scamantha shrugged, immediately diving back into her bags. Out came handfuls of dried leaves, powdery roots, and shriveled mushrooms. “See here, not-a-dragon-wart fungus! Banned in three kingdoms, completely useless for combat, but good for crafting fireworks! Or… potion base. Very rare.”

  Fty’s frown deepened. He was starting to think reliable wasn’t even in her vocabulary.

  Then Lisa froze, her gaze snapping toward something glittering in the pile. She gasped and snatched it up—a finger-sized crimson gem that pulsed faintly with mana.

  “This one,” Lisa whispered reverently, clutching it against her chest and then hugging Scamantha.

  Scamantha’s grin widened instantly, shark-like. “Ah, ah, very rare! Ancient Ruby of, uh… Magnificent Flame! Price—five hun—”

  “Hundred gold!” Lisa cut her off, crushing Scamantha in another suffocating hug. “I’ll give you a hundred gold!”

  The fire mage’s arms coiled around her like molten chains, and Scamantha squeaked, struggling to breathe. “Y-yes! Sold! Deal! Please release before ribs break!”

  Lisa beamed, clutching her prize as Scamantha wriggled free, coughing but still grinning like she’d won anyway.

  Fty closed his eyes. We haven’t even left the forest, and already it feels like a circus.

  “Do you have normal supplies?” Fty finally asked, his voice strained like a man begging the storm to just hold off for one more hour.

  Scamantha rolled her eyes dramatically and fished out a much smaller satchel, this one neatly tied and actually organized. She shoved it into his hands. “Of course. Lola herself asked me to brew these for expeditions. Everything boring you need; health and mana potions, some anti-venom, a stamina draught or two. All regulation, all reliable.”

  Fty peeked inside… glass vials in perfect rows, clear labels scrawled in precise script. Exactly what he wanted. He exhaled, the tiniest flicker of relief cutting through the tension, and passed her the agreed gold. “Thank you.”

  Scamantha pouted, already scooping her chaos of trinkets back into the sacks. “You’re no fun. Not even something explodey?”

  Fty shook his head firmly.

  “Fine, fine.” She gave an exaggerated bow, grin flashing. “Well then, good luck, outstanding leader. I’ll go fleec—” she coughed delicately, “—I mean flee somewhere else!”

  And before anyone could answer, she hauled her half-bursting bags over her shoulders and dashed off into the treeline, humming merrily as if she hadn’t just tried to sell them a broken lightning rod.

  Katherine let out a barking laugh and shook her head. “Insane gurl. I like.”

  Lisa waved cheerfully after the disappearing figure. “Come back with more shiny things!”

  Yuki exhaled, equal parts amused and resigned. “I’m just glad she didn’t insist on testing that potion on me.”

  Even NightSwallow, lurking half in the shade of a pine, muttered something that might’ve been “mercifully gone.”

  The brief ripple of reactions faded, and soon they drifted back toward the two fallen logs that served as their makeshift benches. Fty waited until they had resettled, then turned his gaze to Lunaris. Her posture was tight, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against her knees, and he couldn’t shake the nagging thought.

  “Can I ask,” he said evenly, “why your class is still the basic one?”

  Lunaris flinched. Color flushed across her pale cheeks, and she turned her face just enough to avoid his eyes. “I… still haven’t…” Her words thinned out, dissolving into silence as if she hoped it might speak for her.

  Katherine, never one to let silence live long, leaned over and gave Lunaris a solid smack on the back that made her jolt. “Pick! Join club!”

  Lunaris blinked at her, startled. Katherine grinned and jabbed a thumb at herself, then at Lisa. “Classes by Queen! Royal elites!”

  “Okay,” Fty said briskly, seizing the moment before the mood scattered again. “Then this is the time. Pick your class… while Yuki explains more about the sword.”

  Lunaris’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, then she gave the tiniest nod. Her hand rose, trembling at first, then steadier as a pulse of light flickered between her fingers. With sudden resolve, she summoned a gem into her palm; dark as midnight, its surface rippling with faint silver sparks, like a bottled night sky.

  Yuki’s eyes went huge, her whole face lighting up like she’d just been handed a festival firework. She clapped her hands together, grin splitting wide. “Yes!”

  —

  Lunaris starring at her hand…

  The gem in her hand was so expensive it almost burned. The Queen had given her so much already, and what had she done in return? Nothing worth a million credits. Nothing worth this. She knew she should just take the class and be done with it, but… her chest tightened. If she accepted, if she truly became Chronosblade… she would owe even more.

  “So…” Yuki said, practically bouncing, her face glowing like someone had just handed her a cake and told her it was calorie-free. “You probably don’t know him—most people don’t—but that’s exactly what makes him fascinating! His name was Rauno Vaananen. An adventurer. Not a king, not a legendary hero, not even a particularly good duelist. But!” She jabbed the air. “He had one trait that kept him alive far longer than he deserved: preparation.”

  Lunaris fingers curled around the gem until her knuckles ached. She stared at it as if it might suddenly bite.

  Even the text felt like a mountain pressing on her shoulders. Fight the other nine? Be faster than time? She almost wanted to laugh or cry.

  Her eyes flicked sideways, seeking courage, and found Yuki nearly vibrating with glee.

  “He was adaptable in the dullest way possible. No grand destiny, no prophecy. Just… homework. He’d arrive at a village, and the first thing he did was interrogate the baker about local monster sightings. Then he’d visit the blacksmith and ask what kind of damage the villagers’ spears left on animal hides. Then, get this, he’d actually buy children sweets, so they’d tell him campfire stories. He built his entire battle plans off bedtime tales and livestock injuries!”

  Lunaris willed the class to be accepted.

  Lunaris stared at the description, her eyes widened while Yuki grinned. “Example! One winter, a sluggish beast kept raiding a potato cellar. Everyone thought it was a troll. He listened, actually listened, to an old woman complain about how her husband’s shed smelled of brimstone. Rauno realized it wasn’t a troll at all, it was a plant-salamander! So what did he do? He coated his blade with a thin oil, lit it with pitch, and just… scared the poor thing into fleeing. Barely a fight. Villagers sang his name, but in truth? He just paid attention.”

  She checked her new skills.

  Lunaris just stared at the cooldown, lips parting. A year. One whole year. Her logical side whispered that it was terrifying… fate dragging her into duels she might not survive.

  But inside? She was giddy.

  Once a year, she could hunt another Chronosblade. Or they could hunt her. Were they all scattered across Rimelion, like bright stars waiting for her to chase? Or… oh stars… had someone already gathered nine shards, leaving her as the last name on the list?

  Her pulse quickened at the thought. She couldn’t wait to test herself against them. To cross blades with someone else who carried time… in their sword.

  She gripped her longsword tighter, breathless with anticipation. Fastest. I’ll be the fastest. And they’ll see.

  Yuki barely paused for breath before launching into the next. “Another time, he had to cross a marsh where these ghastly eel-things nested. Slimy horrors, long teeth, hissed like kettles boiling over. Any normal fighter would have waded in, swung wildly, and ended up eel food. But Rauno? Oh no.”

  Yuki smugly strolled around, waiting for the to urge her. Nobody did, so she continued. “He found a peddler carrying a thunderstone, traded half his rations for it, and then lashed it to the hilt of his sword with fishing twine. The first eel lunged, and—flash!—water exploded like it was struck by a storm. Every eel in the marsh twitched belly-up. He didn’t slay them with muscle. He electrified the swamp.”

  Yuki’s eyes glittered as she spread her hands. “This was his pattern. Never glorious, never a tale for ballads… just clever little tricks. He’d grind herbs to coat his blade if he knew a beast feared bitter roots, or borrow a shepherd’s dog to bark warnings before a fight. He turned other people’s scraps into survival. Boring? Maybe. But that’s why I adore him! He proves you don’t need to be chosen; you just need to be ready.”

  Yuki sat back at last, flushed with excitement. “Honestly, I wish more heroes studied like him. Imagine how many lives could’ve been saved if they just… stopped and asked the baker.”

  Lunaris barely registered what Yuki was saying. Her mind was already spinning with ideas, colliding into each other faster than she could grab hold of them. Could she chain a dash into a parry? Could she slice arrows out of the air before they reached her team? What if, oh stars, she used [Temporal Oath] not just to find rivals, but to train against them?

  Her lips curled into a grin. It was like Charlie had just handed her a toy chest labeled “dangerous but fun.” Yuki’s voice droned somewhere in the distance, but Lunaris was already choreographing duels in her head.

  Lunaris finally blinked out of her daydreams about slicing arrows in midair and noticed the state of her companions.

  Katherine had dozed off against a log, snoring softly. Big sis Lisa was crouched by the campfire, flicking little sparks at NightSwallow like; the rogue, of course, slipped around them with ease, smirking each time. Somehow the fire refused to spread into the forest; big sis was that good with fire.

  Fty, the only one still focused, pinched his forehead and asked, “How does any of this help us find the sword?”

  Yuki blinked, as if she’d just been reminded they were on a quest. “Well, his notes said that when he died in the caves, his sword became powerful. Eventually, it turned into a legend. And… I heard there’s a Bandit Leader carrying a sword like that.”

  Fty stared. Then he muttered something too low to catch before raising his voice again “And you couldn’t say that at first?”

  Yuki shrugged, bright as ever. “It wasn’t that interesting. Let’s go get the sword!”