"You're hurt."

Ezkalda's voice was low, looking past her brother and back at the crowd. "Was it one of them or-"

"No," Valkner grumbled, touching the bandages and slowly to face the group at her side. "It was me doing something stupid. I ended up wasting a lot of our day but... I guess it worked out. Tuscetta was able to tame a bolette, so things should be pretty safe going forward."

Neither of the disguised demons speak, watching the party and the dwarf-bolette interactions. It felt like an eternity had passed since they last spoke after all the tension, yet neither Val nor Ez felt confident in this moment. One of them had suffered for centuries as a powerless beggar while the other as a concubine beneath a man who could kill her with a snap.

But right now, Valkner felt old. Far older than he actually was if not older than he should feel for a demon able to live longer than any mortal. Perhaps exhaustion blurred that line but it felt more like it was due to just how much change occurred in a mere blink of his long life, when it had been so constant for the majority of post-fall society.

"... Sister, do you ever think about how alone we are now?"

Ezkalda turned her gaze to him but didn't answer. She merely watched him, waiting until her brother's eyes met hers.

"I do," he whispered. "I think about it more than I wish I did. It almost consumes my thoughts for weeks when it hits badly. Mother, Father, our siblings and friends; out of everything that's happened, almost everyone and everything from back then have died or fallen into a worse fate. Yet neither of us are gone."

Silence met his speech, but just as he opened his lips to speak again she finally smiled.

"Yet neither of us are gone. So long as I'm alive, can you dare say you're alone?"

"No. Though I question if it's worse knowing my sister has sex with one of the men who put me in this position."

The pair shared a sobering chuckle before Val's sister reached out and took him by his wrists. Her hands glowed with her own spell but the complexity was far too high for Val to potentially learn. All he knew is that the soreness of his cuts mended and the bandages felt cleaner. It was a nice gesture but one that raised a grudging pull in his chest knowing he couldn't repay it in some grandiose way.

Val turned and turned his arms over, grabbing her forearms and pulling her close. The demoness is shocked but stays still long enough for him to change his grip and pull her into a proper hug.

"Thanks for surviving."

She laughed but Valkner knew she was crying. A brother always knew when it came down to it.

"You too." She fumbled her hands across her face to clear the tears away, stepping away and clearing her throat. "But... um... that aside, I think I should teach you that skill, don't you think?"

Valkner had forgotten about that in the business of today but couldn't help get intrigued. It also helped him take his mind off the fact he'd need to keep the bandages on for a while to not raise any questions with the guests. Maybe it'd earn him some sympathy purchases during the Darkenth Festival.

"And which one do you consider vital to me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The woman's smirk completely dashed the prior air of tension. "Something to keep those girls safe. After all..."

She reached down to her hip and pulled out a small, simple dagger. Valkner didn't understand but she slipped around behind him and moved it into his grip... and made him swing.

But it wasn't just any swing; it was one executed cleanly and precisely, just like the first of an arduous student's attempts to learn to fight. A crucial swing that, by all standards, constituted the first initial "use" of a combat proficiency skill. Even if Val did perfect swings alone, they would never activate the knowledge gained yet right now he saw a rush of notifications.

Tutoring Complete

Acquired the following skills.

[Small Blades] Basic Mastery, Prof. 3

[Cut] Basic Mastery, Prof. 3

Ezkalda left the dagger in his hand, stepping away and bumping his shoulder. "You've been changing; you put yourself at risk so you could make sure they survived, didn't you? Because of that, you're not learning to fight for greed... you're learning to defend others who deserve it. But being a hero fits you if you ask me, brother."

Valkner rolled his eyes but didn't look it in the face. Due to his curse, it was impossible to explain her Tutoring working without that being the case. But to imagine that he'd be able to benefit from her Tutor skill only helped give him a big jumpstart.

In comparison, his skill is pretty comparable to someone who had been handling a knife for many years and fighting with one for two or three. It was actually pretty close to about where his skill had been before losing all his abilities and traits, in all honesty, but it meant he could utilize any small blade in combat better than flailing it wildly.

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And acquiring Cut meant he had an Active Skill. Well-known for their similarity to spells, an Active Skill could turn the tide in a battle. The closest his group had so far to one would have been Berserk, but as a Racial Skill it's on a different category.

Cut is much simpler; most edged weapons could utilize Cut but its horizontal cut worked best with swords and knives. It was the basis for almost every blade skill tree and served as a fundamental combat skill for most swordsmen until they reached level 40 or greater.

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Ezkalda left without anything else said but it felt surreal to Valkner that she was truly gone. As late as it had got, she probably went to convince her husband to avoid coming here for a few days which would only benefit Valkner. The heroes had the ability to see his skills but he had learned well enough that none of them cared if he learned something as simple as Cut with the amount of leverage they have on him.

The true purpose was to buy him time to prepare both Tuscetta and Jigalta; allowing them to stay in the inn would be too dangerous so Valkner figured they could spend the time training during the day to prevent the pesky hero from getting any suspicion of them. At night, they could come back and he wouldn't have any means to keep track on them with his obligations.

Part of being a hero after destroying your most powerful enemies means that you no longer have the freedom to move about as you please.

As far as the inn went, the only person who would really raise danger flags with the heroes was Obero but that little treehugger had the adequate skills and spells to completely evade detection even if the magical one showed up.

So preparing for the Darkenth Festival was pretty much keeping his two helpers busy and handling basic day-to-day management. The festival was going to be more beneficial for other places than his humble inn but earning money off his party of adventurers during their grind would hopefully be as profitable as the skills had come.

Once everyone finished chatting and the bolette was given a spot behind the inn to lay and act as a guard dog, Val had Jigalta ready the storage by setting the foods aside by category rather than their normal mix-mash of oldest in the front and newest on the flanks and in the back. Tuscetta worked to settle the various tables together to act as planning and meeting spots versus their more spread out position. The demon prince himself saw to putting up his normal signs; occupancy, rooms open, and prices for food and his healing service.

In the frontier, this sort of thing was fairly common when adventurers retired; those able to heal, regardless of whether they were scummy humans or not, would often give their services to passerby travelers for a premium to supplement their income.

In Valkner's case, his heal was paltry and the amount of mana he had was nothing compared to his original reserves... but he could reasonably mend most cuts. The final step was setting up the dungeon's front with its basic deterrent; a simple "all trespassers will be mugged" sign. 

The inn was only profitable to a point, after all. If they wanted to make a profit, they needed customers and people willing to pay to gain entry. A much older tradition from the human heartlands was to put these signs up to ward off people sneaking into controlled dungeons. The few who did and ended up severely wounded or dead would be robbed of their every possession as compensation for their crime.

Cold but a good strategy when your half-orc bodyguard damaged her armor and you definitely don't have the money or connections to repair it.

But once the inn was finally prepared, Val sat down on his bed and enjoyed a long hour of silence. The dead of night had come and the adventurers had settled in... and the ticking clock of the bonus continued itching closer.

Val looked at his mirror and touched the bandages, reminiscing on his recent success and his new skills. Despite all of it, he still had a sour taste knowing that it was nothing more than a small step. But a step felt like strides or even sprints compared to all the time spent in the rut. The next time his dwarvish crush spins in, he might even try to flirt a bit less subtly.

This frontier feels more and more like a part of me despite all of the hell it gave me for two centuries. Our family dungeon, too. It's starting to finally get healthy but in the process it nearly killed me. The road ahead is finally clearing up but it feels like I'm forgetting something.

Ensuring his disguise was still active, Valkner leaned back and spread his arms wide to get as comfortable as he can on the beat-up old mattress.

A new mattress is in-order I think. It just makes me think of how Ez and I always had to sleep on beat-up mats before Father acknowledged us.

Memories of his childhood scratched and tried to pull him into nostalgic reminiscing. Unfortunately for them, recounting and reviewing one of the most harmful memories in his life with the Slime Queen's death made sure he didn't have any love nor desire to deal with more of it. Especially since Jigalta had asked a question that nearly marred the entire day mentally for him. Sacrificing himself might have looked nice but there was another part of him that maybe hoped those Mystery Bugs would have killed him. If he died now, he'd be reincarnated or reborn right around the same time she's reborn.

If he gave up revenge, Val may have been able to be reborn as some well-off human with his childhood sweetheart and live a long happy life. Deep down, he knew that dream or hope or whatever the hell people wanted to dub it was impossible for him. Being born into happiness was beyond Valkner's hopes and the only true release would come when either the sword fell in his failure or when he saw the last of those heroes pay for the crimes they enacted on his family.

Even if it meant celebrating a festival about his demise, even if he had to serve humans on hand and feet, and even if it took another two centuries to do it, Valkner Gaustein refused to give up those last embers of revenge.

With Darkenth, he'd make money and finally buy the connections necessary to start his scheming. His restrictions were waning with his desire to help Tuscetta and Jigalta, but Val wouldn't stop trying to find more bypasses. Amassing skills, leveling up, and improving.

This grind was only just starting. Tomorrow, they'd catch their breath and prepare the final pieces. Jigalta and Tuscetta would keep trying to level-up and train the bolette whilst Valkner spent the whole day psyching himself up.

Festivals aren't just for you stupid humans... and I'm going to make you regret giving me a chance to get back up on my feet.

Time until Darkenth Festival Bonus

1 day