Ch 29: F is for Fantastic

We left Emberhold under a sky that was far too cheerful for a group marching toward probable death.

No farewell parade. No inspiring speech. Just five of us—me, Lira, Seraphine, and our two knightly babysitters: Raven and Kael.

Kael walked like someone who took orders in his sleep and corrected your posture in his dreams. Raven looked like he sharpened his blade for fun and smiled when people flinched.

Lira was alert and watchful, as always, eyes constantly scanning. Seraphine stayed ahead, wrapped in that dignified silence only nobles and statues could pull off. If she tripped on a rock, she'd probably find a way to blame me without saying a word.

The quiet wasn't bad. It gave me space to think.Unfortunately.

The portal station stood at the city's edge—mana pylons humming, runes etched deep into stone, and enough magical tension in the air to make my teeth itch.

I approached the gate expecting the usual: a toll, a queue, some passive-aggressive civil servant demanding we fill out our names in triplicate.

Instead, the guard looked at the Duke's seal on our scroll and waved us through like we were nobility. Well, like they were nobility and I was just... attached.

No toll. No paperwork. No back-alley surcharge.

Huh.

Guess lunch with a warlord has its perks after all. If I'd come on my own, the teleportation fee would've emptied my coin pouch and charged me emotional damages on the way out.

The runes lit up. The air thickened. Someone behind me muttered a prayer.

I rolled my shoulders and stepped onto the platform.

Let's pay a visit to whatever's out there trying to kill me.

The world twisted.

Then dumped us unceremoniously into hell's forgotten cousin.

Cold air hit like a slap. The sky was a sheet of gray misery. Trees loomed, black and damp, like they were mourning something. Behind us, the portal fizzled and dimmed, as if ashamed to be associated with this place.

Gravemire Outpost.Population: Probably less tomorrow.

Barricades surrounded the platform. Beyond them stretched muddy streets, crooked houses, and lanterns that didn't even pretend to work half the time. It looked like someone had tried to build a town and given up halfway through, out of emotional exhaustion.

"Smells like trouble already," Raven muttered, clearly delighted.

"Reminds me of home," I said. "If home were a swamp that hated your existence."

Kael didn't respond. Ever since Lira's talk, he has been quiet. Huh.. It's not like I am dying to talk

The Guild

The Adventurer Guild was the only building here that looked like it hadn't given up on life. Slanted roof, sturdy walls, sword-through-flame sigil above the door—because subtlety is for peasants.

Inside, it was exactly what I expected: noisy, smelly, and crowded with people sporting questionable fashion and questionable decision-making skills.

A receptionist looked up like she was one sigh away from retirement. "New?"

Raven tapped his sigil. It pulsed silver—A-Rank. The room didn't exactly bow, but people noticed.

Kael followed. Another A-Rank. Of course.

Then Seraphine stepped up and casually activated her badge—D-Rank, glowing green and full of I trained for this energy.

And—yep—there it was. That smile.

Smug. Delicate. Perfectly measured.

The kind of smile that said, "You're about to get an F, aren't you?"

I stared back like I was evaluating fine cheese. Didn't even blink.

Lira and I approached.

The receptionist handed us both blank sigils like she was already writing our obituaries.

We infused them with mana.

No glow.

No shimmer.

Just cold metal and shame.

F-Rank.

Officially, the "congratulations, you exist" tier.

The woman didn't even flinch. "Restricted to basic requests. No solo missions. Don't die."

"Noted," I said. "I'll be sure to scream dramatically if I do."

She blinked. Once.

Seraphine said nothing. But I felt her smirk. It probably gained sentience by now.

The Inn

The inn was two stories of "we tried." Crooked walls, groaning stairs, and doors that closed if you asked nicely.

Raven paid. Kael cleared the hallway like he was storming a fortress.

We each got our room—small, private, no-frills. Just a bed, a table, and the heavy presence of self-reflection.

I'd barely stepped inside when I heard a quiet knock.

I opened the door.

Lira stood there.

She didn't speak. Didn't need to. Her eyes said everything: Don't ask. Just let me in.

It wasn't about lust. Or comfort. It was about us.

About trust, in a place where that was a luxury.

And I almost—almost—let her.

Then:

"Lira."Seraphine's voice. Calm. Precise. Slicing through the hallway like a letter opener through expensive disappointment.

"You have your room."

Lira didn't turn.

Her gaze lingered on mine, silent.

I gave the smallest nod. Not rejection. Not approved.

Just understanding.

"Goodnight," I said.

She smiled. Not the pretty kind. The practiced kind. The kind you use to armor up.

Then she turned, stepped away, and closed her door behind her.

Click.

Hallway silence again.

The Plan

I didn't sleep. Just stared out the tiny window, watching shadows stretch like they were reaching for something just out of sight.

The others were probably strategizing—ranking up, getting stronger, earning clout. The classic "earn your stripes" path.

I wasn't interested.

I wasn't here for guild fame or monster-slaying merit badges.

I was here for one thing: the elixir.Buried in that cursed forest.The one Elric was supposed to find.The one I wasn't supposed to touch.Yet.

But I'm not Elric.

And I'm not waiting for permission.

Let them hunt boars and collect quest tokens. Let them follow the script.

I'll find a way to slip away—quietly, cleanly, and very much off-record.

The elixir is my shortcut.

My cheat code.

And I plan to get to it before the story even knows I'm gone.