John woke feeling good.

  Not just rested. Actually, genuinely good. No aches. No stiffness. No fog of exhaustion clinging to his thoughts. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling of his small room, taking it in.

  When was the last time he'd woken up with energy? Before the ceiling collapsed? Before years of energy drinks and all-nighters had left him running on fumes?

  Never, maybe.

  The level ups had given him a body that worked the way bodies were supposed to work, without the accumulated damage of a lifetime of treating it like a machine that didn't need maintenance.

  He rolled out of bed with an ease that felt strange, and dressed in the clothes Molly had provided. His sneakers were by the door, pristine again.

  He headed downstairs.

  The common room was quieter this morning. Just a handful of early risers nursing ales and breaking their fast. Molly spotted him immediately and gestured to an empty table.

  Breakfast appeared moments later. Eggs, bacon, fresh bread with butter and jam, and something that might have been porridge but tasted far better than any porridge had a right to.

  "Eat," Molly commanded, sliding a plate in front of him. Before he could ask, she added, "Commander Valebrant's waiting for you. Says Lia won't stop talking about what's in my cellar." Her eyes narrowed. "Which I'm very interested to hear about, considering someone smashed my wall into pieces."

  John focused very intently on his eggs.

  After breakfast, he found Leon examining a tapestry in the hallway. Some faded battle scene that had probably hung there since before John was born. Lia stood beside him, practically vibrating with excitement.

  "Lets go!" she said the moment she spotted him.

  They descended to find Molly already in the cellar, lantern lit, standing amid the disaster John had made of her wall. The displaced bricks formed a small cairn to one side. Mortar dust coated everything within a six-foot radius.

  She didn't say anything. Just looked at the mess, then at John, then back at the mess.

  "So," John said into the silence. "In my defense I was kind of in a hurry?"

  "Clearly." She thrust the lantern at him. "Well? Show them what was worth demolishing my cellar for."

  John approached the concealed entrance, very aware of three sets of eyes on his back. The sequence came naturally now. Press here, slide there, press again. The runes flared reluctantly, like something waking from deep sleep.

  The door opened.

  Leon's hand went to his sword hilt. Then he saw what lay beyond and froze.

  "By the Light," he breathed.

  The dark stairway descended into shadow, the Pre-Veil runes along the walls pulsing with faint, ancient light.

  Lia moved to her brother's side. "We cleared three trials. John knew every puzzle, every trap."

  John felt Leon's attention shift to him like a physical weight.

  "I read old books," John said quickly.

  Molly pushed past them, lantern held high, peering into the chamber with the critical eye of someone inspecting a piece of property. "This has been under my inn the whole time?"

  "Looks like," John said.

  "Hm." She circled the entrance, examining the stonework. "Well. That explains why the foundation never settled right."

  She stepped back, gesturing at the opening with her lantern. "Go on then. Have your look."

  Leon's lips quirked in amusement at being ordered about. He moved forward, and the moment he stepped into the entrance, his presence immediately affected the space. The ambient mana shifted, responding to his Rank, and the carvings brightened slightly.

  He examined everything with meticulous attention. His expression was thoughtful.

  "This is significant," he said, looking at Molly. "A Pre-Veil ruin in this condition, this intact? My family will want to study it. Document it. Properly." He paused. "Which means you're about to become very popular with House Valebrant."

  Molly's expression didn't change. "Is that so."

  "Scholars. Researchers. Requests for access." Leon's tone was apologetic. "We'll compensate you, of course. And ensure minimal disruption. But this..." He gestured at the ruin. "This is the kind of discovery that changes things."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Molly looked at the ruin, then at Leon, then at John. "You found this to save your life, didn't you?"

  John nodded.

  "Then I suppose some inconvenience is worth that." She turned to Leon. "But I'll be holding you to that 'minimal disruption' promise. This is still my inn, and I've got guests to look after."

  "Understood." Leon actually smiled. "Thank you."

  They sealed the ruin and returned to the common room, where morning had fully arrived. The inn was busier now, villagers coming and going, and John spotted Garren near the door, watching the street.

  "So what now?" John asked.

  Leon glanced at the sword at John's hip. "Now? I was thinking a spar. If you're interested."

  John blinked. "A spar? With you?"

  "Why not? You've survived impossible odds. I'm curious how you fight when something isn't actively trying to kill you." Leon's expression turned slightly challenging. "Unless you'd prefer to rest?"

  Oh, John was not backing down from that. "No. I'm in."

  Word spread fast.

  By the time they reached the training yard near the inn, really just a cleared patch of dirt, a crowd had gathered. Villagers, off-duty guards, even a few children perched on fences for a better view.

  Garren appeared with practice swords. Dulled blades, weighted to feel real but not actually lethal. He handed one to John, then one to Leon.

  "First blood, or yield," Garren said. "No skills. No magic."

  Leon nodded agreement. John did the same, testing the practice blade's weight. It felt wrong after Moonfang, but he'd adjust.

  They took positions across from each other. The crowd quieted.

  "I'll limit myself," Leon said conversationally. "Match your strength and speed. Otherwise this wouldn't be fair."

  "Appreciate it," John said dryly.

  Leon smiled. Then he moved.

  Even limited, Leon was fast. His opening strike came in a blur, and John barely got his blade up in time to parry. The impact jarred his arms, but he flowed into the counter, muscle memory taking over.

  Leon deflected easily, riposted, and suddenly they were moving, blade meeting blade in a rhythm that felt almost like music. John fell into the patterns he knew, the footwork and guards he'd practiced obsessively, and found himself... holding his own.

  Not winning. Leon was clearly in control, testing him, probing for weaknesses. But John wasn't embarrassing himself either.

  The crowd was silent, watching.

  Leon feinted high, struck low. John read it, rolled back, came up with a cut at Leon's leg. Leon blocked and twisted, blade coming around in an arc that should have ended the fight—

  John ducked under it, the practice sword whistling over his head, and lunged forward. Leon sidestepped, but barely, and something flickered in his eyes.

  Approval.

  They broke apart, circling. John's breath came hard but steady. Leon looked like he was taking a casual stroll.

  "You're better than I expected," Leon said. "Much better."

  "I practiced a lot."

  Leon laughed. "Drills don't teach you to fight like that."

  They engaged again, and this time Leon pushed harder. His strikes came faster, the combinations more complex. John defended, adapted, found openings where none should exist.

  He wasn't going to win. He knew that. But he was learning, every exchange teaching him something new about how a real master fought.

  They were mid-exchange, blades locked, when Leon's expression changed.

  His head snapped up, eyes searching the sky. "Everyone back. Now."

  The command in his voice sent the crowd scattering. John stepped back, following Leon's gaze.

  Something was descending from the sky.

  Not a griffin. Not a bird. A person.

  They fell like a meteor, robes billowing, and hit the ground with enough force to crack the earth. Dust exploded outward. When it cleared, a figure stood in the crater. Tall, ancient, wrapped in robes that seemed to shift between colors. A staff taller than John topped with a crystal that pulsed with barely contained power. Hair and beard white as snow, flowing like they had their own wind.

  He looked exactly like Merlin would if Merlin could level a city by accident.

  The pressure hit John like a physical wall. His knees buckled. Around him, villagers fell flat or scrambled back. Even Leon flinched.

  This wasn't Rank 3. This wasn't even Rank 4 or 5.

  This was Rank 6. A realm of power John had only read about, where the word "mage" stopped meaning "person who knew spells" and started meaning "walking natural disaster."

  The mage's eyes swept the area. Cold, calculating, ancient beyond reckoning. They settled on Leon first.

  "Valebrant." The voice resonated like thunder barely contained. "You summoned me for this?"

  "Grand Magister Aldric." Leon's voice was steady despite the pressure. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

  Aldric's gaze shifted. Swept the crowd. Landed on John.

  And stopped.

  Those eyes bored into him, through him. John felt something like insects crawling across his brain, a presence pressing against his thoughts.

  A prickling sensation erupted between his eyes. Sharp. Sudden. Like someone had just installed a new sense he'd never had before.

  A notification blazed across his vision.

  [Basic Spell Resistance Unlocked]

  "YES!" John shouted, fist pumping the air. "FINALLY!"

  The entire crowd turned to stare at him.

  Aldric's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline.

  Leon looked between John and the Grand Magister with alarm he didn't bother hiding.

  And John realized, with horror, that he'd just shouted with joy in the middle of what was clearly supposed to be a very serious moment.

  "Uh," he said into the silence. "Sorry. That was... I got excited. About..." He gestured vaguely at nothing. "Never mind. Continue."

  Aldric studied him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then his lips twitched.

  "Interesting," the Grand Magister said. "Very interesting indeed."