Chapter:21-Sir Donovan

The morning light crept through the thin curtains of Edwin's rented room, soft and golden. It was a feeble attempt to brighten the dingy, creaky space that passed for an inn. Dust danced in the air, highlighted by the sunlight, and the faint aroma of stale bread lingered from the hallway outside.

He hadn't moved much since collapsing onto the bed the night before. The exhaustion from the test, the battles, and the brutal reality of killing so many people clung to his bones. But his mind was too active to allow real rest.

"Elora, bring up the stats again," Edwin murmured, his voice rough from sleep.

[Strength: 21]

[Speed: 23]

[Durability: 23]

[Sense: 19]

[Health: 2500/2500]

[Rune of Enhancement: Simple]

[Title: Bane of Wolves]

It was progress. Undeniable progress. But somehow, it felt hollow.

"Elora, what's the next step?"

[It is recommended to acquire better equipment. Allocating fifty Dravans for essential supplies, armor, and weapons is advised. Additionally, moving to a better inn for improved rest and security is suggested.]

"Right... Fifty Dravans. And the rest... I save."

[Correct.]

"And what about the meeting with Sir Donovan?"

[It is scheduled for noon at the Guild headquarters. Failure to attend may result in unfavorable consequences.]

"Yeah, yeah. Wouldn't want to piss off the big shots."

Edwin pushed himself upright and let out a groan as his muscles protested. Even with the system's enhancements, he still felt the lingering ache from the fight. His shoulder, where the assassin's blade had grazed him, was stiff and sore.

He splashed his face with cold water from the small basin in the corner and caught his own reflection in the dirty, cracked mirror. Dark bags hung under his eyes, and his face looked thinner than he remembered.

"Looking good," he muttered sarcastically, wiping his face dry. He usually looked decently handsome anyway so it wasn't a lie.

[Overconfidence is a man's worst or best flaw...]

"Sure...whatever." Edwin ignored the message. He still couldn't fully adapt to Elora's growing personality.

'I can't understand if it's good or creepy..'

With stiff limbs, he donned his old, tattered cloak. He grabbed the pouch of Dravans and left his room, making his way down the narrow staircase.

The innkeeper was a greasy, balding man with a sour expression. He didn't even look up from his dirty mug as Edwin left. No one here cared who he was or what he had done. Just another customer. Just another coin.

The streets of Lekri were alive with activity. Merchants shouted about their wares, children dashed between legs, and the air smelled of sweat, spices, and manure.

Fifty Dravans went faster than expected. Still, Edwin managed to acquire:

-A set of light leather armor. Slightly pricey but worth it for deflecting minor blows.

-A steel dagger for close combat, paired with his straight-edged black sword.

-Supplies that would last him a few weeks.

A thicker cloak that would actually keep him warm.

[Supplies acquired. It is recommended to use the remaining 250 Dravans for future necessities and to save for emergencies.]

"Got it," Edwin replied, adjusting the new gear on his shoulders. It felt good. Secure. Though he wanted to splurge a little more....

With a sigh he moved forward anyway. Not listening to Elora's words make him feel uneasy for some reason.

Soon he arrived at the the destination.

The Guild headquarters loomed ahead, a massive structure of stone and iron. Its banners bore the Guild's emblem—a sword crossed with a quill, symbolizing the balance of strength and knowledge.

Two guards flanked the entrance, their eyes scanning the passerby with bored suspicion. They barely glanced at Edwin as he walked through the open doors.

The interior was alive with noise and movement. Adventurers haggled with merchants, reported missions, or lounged around boasting about their latest exploits. It smelled of ink, sweat, and something faintly metallic.

The receptionist, a woman with Brown hair and a piercing gaze, eyed him with disinterest. "Name and ran-Oh!,you are that Edwin guy,you have gained a slight reputation,you know?"

"Really,good or bad?"

"A bit good a bit bad,anyway follow the pathway and head to the fifth floor and open the gold door," she instructed.

Edwin followed her directions, his footsteps echoing against polished stone. The air grew cooler, the noise fading as he approached the office.

The door creaked as he pushed it open.

Inside was a spacious office lined with bookshelves and ornate weapons mounted on the walls. Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating the polished oak desk and the man sitting on a large desk filled with paperwork and trinkets.

Sir Donovan Hales looked up from a thick bundle of documents, his expression calm but curious. His silver hair was neatly combed, his clothes impeccable. He looked more like a noble than an adventurer.

"Ah, Edwin. Right on time." Sir Donovan's voice was smooth, his smile pleasant. "Please, have a seat."

Edwin sank into the cushioned chair, the comfort a stark contrast to the tension coiling in his gut.

"I appreciate your punctuality. It's a quality most adventurers lack."

"Sure," Edwin replied, his voice flat. "You wanted to speak with me. I wanted to speak with you. So let's just cut to it."

Sir Donovan's eyes glinted with amusement. "I like your style. Very well. What did you want to discuss?"

Edwin hesitated, then leaned forward. "The black wolf I killed. It could breathe fire."

The older man's eyebrows rose slightly. "Pardon?"

"You heard me. A black wolf. Breathing fire."

"That's... highly unusual. On top of it not not being a species that should have been present during the test...it can breath fire."

"That's not all," Edwin continued. "There's an orphaned spirit wolf in the forest. I saw it near its parents' corpses. They looked... twisted. Burned."

"Burned?"

"Yeah. The black wolf didn't just breathe fire. Its attacks felt wrong. Unnatural."

Sir Donovan leaned back, eyes narrowing. "And you suspect the cultists had something to do with this?"

"Maybe. Breathing fire isn't normal for a black wolf. It's something spirit foxes are known for. Not wolves."

"You're well-informed."

"I had a decent education."

Sir Donovan's gaze sharpened. "If the Scarlet Requiem was involved, it's worse than we thought. They've been dabbling in twisted rituals and experiments, trying to mimic or corrupt the abilities of other creatures."

"Scarlet Requim?" Edwin asked. "Is that the name of the cult?"

"Yes. They have been an enemy of the state for a lonh time...and I intend to find them and bring them down to the ground!."

"And what do you need from me?"

Sir Donovan's smile returned, though there was a hard edge to it. "Information. If you encounter anything else strange, report to me immediately. And in return, I'll make sure your rank progresses faster than most."

"Why me?"

"Because you survived."

The words hung heavy in the air.

"Fine," Edwin said. "I'll help you. But I want to know everything you find out."

"Agreed."

Sir Donovan extended a hand. Edwin hesitated before shaking it, the man's grip firm and cold but also trusting and somehow affectionate.

"Oh!..I forgot to mention,the report you made about a goblins nest when you first signed up,well...we killed all the goblins there and saved the people captured. One of them being the daughter of a famous merchant,they want to meet you.."

End of Chapter