Kael spent his remaining weeks in relative ease, indulging in quiet moments of reading and relaxation. Time moved quickly, slipping through his fingers like sand, and before he knew it, only a few days remained before his departure. The looming mission was never far from his thoughts, but for now, he allowed himself this brief respite.
With a quiet sigh, he stretched and stood, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the stillness.
"I should probably head into the city and buy a few things before I leave," he muttered to himself.
His gaze drifted toward his equipment, laid out in careful order. Looking at it, one would never assume someone was preparing to leave for months.
In front of him rested his cane, its sleek black wood polished to a faint sheen. Beside it, a pair of well-worn gloves lay neatly folded, their reinforced leather offering both flexibility and protection. A small lantern, designed to be hung from his belt, sat next to his boots—sturdy, weathered, and built for long treks across uncertain terrain. A few other essential items were arranged around them, nothing particularly noteworthy but all carefully chosen.
For a Luminaire, whose memory was already enhanced—and especially for Kael, whose recall had been exceptional even before his awakening—this habit was hardly necessary. He could remember every item down to the smallest detail. And yet, it had become sort of a routine.
He let his eyes linger on the neatly arranged items for a moment longer before exhaling softly, quickly making a mental note of everything he would need in the months ahead.
After a moment, he grabbed his coat and cane before stepping out of his cabin, setting off toward the city. The walk took nearly forty minutes, but Kael didn’t mind. In fact, as a Luminaire, he could easily cover the distance in less than ten minutes without even breaking a sweat. But he chose not to. He preferred the slow pace, the quiet rustling of leaves, the crisp morning air. Out here, it was just him and nature—no noise, no crowds, no distractions. Just the steady rhythm of his steps and the world breathing around him.
Soon enough, houses began to appear more frequently along the roadside, clear signs that he was nearing the city. The dense tranquility of nature gradually gave way to the quiet bustle of civilization—the distant murmur of voices, the occasional creak of a cart wheel, and the scent of fresh bread drifting from unseen bakeries.
The road he walked was paved with worn cobblestones, small plants sprouting between the cracks—subtle signs that summer was approaching at a steady pace. The warmth in the air was gentle but undeniable, carrying with it the earthy scent of sun-kissed soil and the distant fragrance of blooming flowers.
As Kael continued down the cobbled path, the city slowly unfolded before him. The scattered houses grew into tightly packed buildings, streets winding between them like veins of a living entity. The quiet hum of nature faded, replaced by the rhythmic cadence of urban life—merchants calling out their wares, blacksmiths hammering metal, and the occasional laughter of children darting through the crowds.
Navigating through the familiar streets with ease, Kael made his way toward his destination—a small but well-regarded shop known for its handcrafted coats. It wasn’t the most extravagant place in the city, but its craftsmanship was second to none. If he was going to brave the wilds, he would do so properly outfitted.
The motes in this world took the form of countless things—some even manifesting as clothing infused with power. However, Kael had never managed to get his hands on anything of the sort. For now, all he could do was rely on the work of skilled craftsmen.
As he opened the door and stepped inside, a small bell chimed, signaling his arrival to the shopkeeper. Immediately, he was enveloped by the rich scent of freshly worked leather and an array of textiles. The shop was small—no bigger than his cabin—but every inch of wall space was utilized, lined with meticulously crafted coats hanging from sturdy wooden racks. Despite its modest size, the sheer variety of designs and materials spoke volumes about the craftsmanship behind each piece.
Kael offered the shopkeeper a courteous nod, a silent acknowledgment of his presence, before turning his attention to the array of coats displayed throughout the shop. Moving at an unhurried pace, he let his gaze sweep over the selection, taking in the sheer variety before him. The shop carried all sorts—some designed for formal occasions, their fabrics rich and adorned with fine detailing; others were simple, everyday coats, made for comfort and practicality. There were also heavy-duty coats meant for laborers, built for durability against harsh conditions.
Before long, Kael made his final decision—a black trench coat crafted from sturdy, weather-resistant material, offering excellent protection against wind and harsh conditions. It was both practical and well-made. He took it from the rack and made his way toward the counter without hesitation. The price was steep, but he had no intention of cutting corners on something this essential. After all, the sole reason he earned money was to spend it, and in the wilderness, a good coat could mean the difference between comfort and misery.
Handing the payment to the shopkeeper, he draped the newly purchased coat over his arm and stepped out of the shop. The sun had climbed higher, casting longer shadows across the cobbled streets. He adjusted his grip on the coat, his thoughts already shifting toward his next stop. There were still a few more things he needed before he could consider himself fully prepared.
As Kael stepped out of the shop, the weight of his new coat draped over his arm, he took a moment to adjust to the streets once more. The midday sun hung high, casting long shadows along the cobbled roads, the city alive with quiet movement—merchants calling out their wares, the distant clatter of a blacksmith hammering metal, and the murmur of passing conversations.
His errands weren’t done just yet. A coat alone wouldn’t be enough for the journey ahead. Not that he truly needed much else—after all, as a Luminaire, his strength far surpassed that of an ordinary person. A weapon was hardly necessary.
And yet, sometimes, it was to one’s advantage if those around them assumed otherwise. Let people think he was just another mercenary relying on steel and skill rather than something far greater. There was power in being underestimated, in letting others believe he was weaker than he truly was.
This was the very reason he carried his cane—a simple, unassuming object in the eyes of most, but one made of an exceptionally dense black wood, sturdy enough to endure far more than it appeared. It served its purpose well, allowing him to maintain a certain image while keeping those around him oblivious to what he truly was.
With that thought in mind, he turned down the street, making his way toward one of the city's more reputable knife and survival shops.
The streets stretched before him, bustling with the steady rhythm of midday life. A cart rumbled past, its wooden wheels clattering against the cobblestones as a vendor balanced crates of dried goods in the back. Somewhere to his left, a pair of mundane guards patrolled at a leisurely pace, their armor catching glints of sunlight with every step.
Kael maneuvered through the shifting crowd with ease, his pace unhurried. Though his destination was set, he allowed himself to take in his surroundings—the familiar yet ever-changing cityscape. A tanner’s shop stood with its doors open, the acrid scent of treated leather wafting onto the street. Further down, a pharmacist displayed neatly labeled vials of vibrant-colored liquids behind glass cases, a place he mentally noted for another visit should the need arise.
The road gradually narrowed as he moved away from the main market streets, leading into an area where the air felt heavier, tinged with the scent of oil, metal, and freshly sawed wood. Here, practicality reigned. Smithies lined the roads, their forges glowing faintly from within shaded workshops. A group of workers hauled a crate filled with mining tools toward a supply post, speaking in low, serious tones.
Kael walked on, his sturdy leather boots tapping against the cobbled streets, his coat draped over his shoulder and his black wooden cane held loosely in one hand. He knew this part of the city well—this was where mercenaries, travelers, and hunters outfitted themselves.
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Eventually, his destination came into view. A modest, but well-established shop nestled between a blacksmith’s forge and a general outfitter. Its wooden sign bore the simple carving of a blade and compass, a clear indication of what it specialized in. The door was slightly ajar, allowing the scent of oiled steel and treated wood to seep into the air.
Kael stepped forward, pushing the door open and stepped inside.
It was a modest shop, its walls adorned with the mounted heads of various beasts—some familiar, like deer, others far more monstrous, trophies from hunters who had braved the wilderness on their expeditions. Despite the silent gazes of the creatures looming overhead, the space carried a surprising warmth. The rich scent of aged wood and well-oiled steel filled the air, and the soft glow of lanterns cast a welcoming light over the neatly arranged shelves of tools, blades, and survival gear.
Kael took a quick glance around the shop—he’d been here before. Whenever he refrained from using his Luminaire abilities during an assignment, he relied on a mundane blade, and each time, he would return to purchase a new one. It wasn’t just a way to refine his skill with different weapons; it also made it harder to trace any of his kills back to him. Because of this habit, he had become quite familiar with both the shop and its owner.
The shopkeeper was a man in his late forties, with striking black hair and a physique shaped by years of relentless smithing. His youthful appearance might have led some customers to underestimate him, but Kael knew better. He wasn’t an expert in smithing himself—he couldn’t always discern the finer intricacies of craftsmanship—but he could tell quality when he saw it. And more importantly, he knew how these blades performed in battle.
As soon as the owner spotted Kael, he greeted him warmly.
"Here to buy a new blade again, Kael?"
Kael offered a friendly smile as he made his way toward the counter, tucking his cane under his arm.
"Ah, you know how it is. Blades come and go, and today, I need a new one."
The shopkeeper let out a hearty laugh, already certain that at least one weapon would be sold before the day was over. Kael had never explicitly mentioned his line of work, but the man had no illusions about the kind of business he was in. Still, he never pried. There was an unspoken agreement between them—no questions, no unnecessary words. Just steel, coin, and understanding.
They exchanged a few pleasantries before Kael described the type of weapon he was looking for this time. The blacksmith listened intently, rubbing his chin as his gaze drifted, lost in thought.
After a brief pause, he gave a small nod. "Wait here a moment," he said, before turning and disappearing into the back of the shop.
Kael gave a small nod and turned, shifting his stance as he leaned back against the counter, resting his weight against it. With his arms loosely crossed, he cast his gaze toward the entrance, watching the occasional passerby through the open doorway. The familiar scent of oiled leather and freshly sharpened steel hung in the air, a quiet reminder of the many times he had stood in this very shop, waiting just like this.
Soon enough, he heard the sound of steady footsteps approaching from behind. Pushing off the counter, he turned to find the blacksmith holding a small knife, his expression unusually proud. There was a certain gleam in his eye, the kind a craftsman had when presenting a piece of work they were particularly satisfied with.
Without hesitation, the blacksmith began explaining his thoughts and process behind creating the blade, detailing the materials, balance, and finer intricacies of its design. Kael listened intently, his gaze fixed on the weapon, nodding occasionally. He seemed interested—not just out of politeness, but because he genuinely valued well-made tools.
The blacksmith turned the blade in his hands, his fingers running along the metal grip as he spoke.
"This one’s built for speed and precision,"
he said, his tone almost absent-minded, as if still lost in the craft of it.
The knife was long and slender, its double-edged blade tapering to an almost needle-like point. It had no elaborate embellishments, no unnecessary details—just pure, honed function. The edges were sharpened, but not designed for deep, slashing wounds. Instead, the shape and weight distribution made it ideal for piercing, slipping between ribs, through joints, or past armor gaps with minimal resistance.
"A heavier blade can cleave or crush, but that takes strength, takes effort. This?"
He flipped it in his grip with practiced ease.
"This is quick. Precise. Put it where it needs to go, and it does the work for you."
The handle, cast from the same dark metal as the blade, was ribbed for grip, ensuring a secure hold even in the worst conditions. Perfectly balanced, it allowed for swift, controlled thrusts without excess weight dragging it down. The narrow guard was subtle—just enough to prevent the hand from slipping forward, but not so large as to hinder movement.
"Grip it right, use it right, and it'll move like an extension of your own hand," the blacksmith continued. "Doesn't matter if the opponent’s armored, moving fast, or bigger than you—if this finds the right spot, they go down all the same."
He finally held the weapon out for Kael to take. "This one’s not for show. It’s for those who know exactly what they need to do and how to do it."
Kael reached out, taking the knife from the blacksmith’s hands. He gripped it firmly, feeling its weight, testing its balance. As the blacksmith had said, it was exceptional—perfectly proportioned, neither too heavy nor too light. There was a certain sensation that came with holding a weapon that truly fit, an almost instinctual recognition. The moment Kael wrapped his fingers around the handle, he knew.
It wasn’t quite what he had expected to walk out with today, but it was a welcome surprise. More than that, it suited him. The knife’s design aligned seamlessly with his own combat style—cold, efficient, and calculated.
“Now, treat it well, Kael!”
The blacksmith let out a low shout, his voice carrying a mix of emotions—part pride, part reluctant farewell—as he watched Kael leave with the blade in hand. It was a weapon he had poured his skill into, one of his finest works, and while he was glad to see it find a worthy wielder, there was always a bittersweet feeling in parting with something he had crafted with his own hands.
Along with the knife, he had included a sturdy leather sheath, crafted to secure the blade and allow it to hang from a belt with ease. It was a simple but well-made addition, ensuring the weapon would always be within reach.
Kael paused for a brief moment at the threshold, glancing over his shoulder. His gaze met the blacksmith’s, unreadable yet firm. With a small, confirming nod, he acknowledged the unspoken weight between them before stepping out onto the bustling street once more.
It was only two items, yet the day had already begun its descent into evening. The once-bustling streets had quieted, the usual chatter and movement replaced by a calmer, more measured rhythm. The city was bathed in a golden light, the sun casting its final rays across the rooftops. Each window caught the glow, reflecting it in shimmering pools that gave the city an almost ethereal quality—like fleeting traces of something untouchable.
Kael cast a brief glance at the scene before continuing on his way.
As Kael walked, his thoughts drifted, his gaze idly tracing the first stars that had begun to pierce through the darkening sky. The golden glow of the setting sun had long faded behind the treetops, leaving only the quiet embrace of nature around him. The city was far behind now, its distant lights swallowed by the dense forest. Here, the only sounds were the whisper of leaves in the evening breeze and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth.
It was peaceful in a way, but his mind was elsewhere, turning over the events of the day—what he had gathered, what still needed doing—until something ahead disrupted the rhythm of his steps.
A shadow moved. Fast.
Kael’s attention snapped downward, his expression remaining indifferent as he took in the creature that had emerged onto the path before him. It was wolf-like, but far larger than any natural predator, its hulking form tense and rigid. Thick fur bristled along its spine, standing on end as it lowered itself into a poised stance. Its lips curled back in a silent snarl, exposing rows of sharp, glistening teeth, and its breath came in slow, heavy bursts. The air between them felt charged, thick with the creature’s hostility.
Kael remained still, his eyes settling on the beast. It wasn’t the presence of the monster itself that gave him pause, but rather the fact that it had made it this far at all. The city’s outskirts were patrolled, hunters and Luminaires ensuring no beasts strayed too close. Yet here it was, prowling within reach of his own cabin.
Kael stared at the beast with a cold, indifferent gaze, his posture unwavering as he stopped concealing his Luminaire presence. The shift was subtle, yet absolute—an unseen force pressing outward, washing over the creature like an unrelenting tide.
The wolf-like beast hesitated, its muscles tensing in response to the sudden change in the air. Its snarling teeth faltered, its body stuttering mid-motion as primal instinct overrode aggression. It might have been physically stronger than Kael, but in the end, it was just a beast—guided only by raw instinct, lacking the intellect to challenge something it could not comprehend.
A final, uncertain growl rumbled from its throat before it spun on its heels, and sprinted into the depths of the forest. Within moments, it had vanished into the darkness.
Kael watched the beast disappear into the trees, his expression unchanged. With a slight shift of his shoulders, he adjusted his coat and resumed his walk.