The morning sun had fully risen, casting its golden rays across the town of Fujihama. The narrow streets were bustling with life as vendors called out to passersby, and adventurers geared up for their daily quests. Nyx and Zyrith exited the inn, stepping into the lively scene. The contrast between the noise of the town and the brooding silence Nyx carried with him was stark.

Zyrith, walking a step ahead as per Nyx’s rules, seemed to glow with excitement. Her violet eyes sparkled as she started explaining the intricacies of the world as she had been taught. Her voice was filled with enthusiasm, as if this was the first time she’d ever had someone to share this knowledge with.

“Did you know there are different calibers of weapons in this world?” she began, her tone eager. “The most common ones, of course, are common-tier. They’re cheap, easy to find, but not very powerful. Then you have rare-tier weapons, forged by skilled craftsmen and infused with a bit of magic.”

Nyx listened, his gaze fixed ahead, uninterested in the finer details of what Zyrith had to say. Yet, her energy was contagious, and she continued without needing a response.

“Then, there are diamond-tier weapons,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, as if to emphasize the gravity of what she was about to reveal. “They’re incredibly powerful, often wielded by high-ranking adventurers and those in positions of power. But even those pale in comparison to the odyssey-tier weapons—the rarest and most powerful weapons in existence. Only five were ever made.”

Nyx’s pace slowed ever so slightly at that.

Zyrith glanced back at him, eyes alight. “Each of the odyssey weapons is held by the ruler of a kingdom. They’re legendary artifacts, forged by the greatest smiths of ancient times, and their power is unimaginable.”

Nyx kept walking, his expression impassive, but Zyrith was too caught up in her explanation to notice.

“Hothrean, the Kingdom of the North, is known for its warriors, and they have the Frostfire Axe—a weapon that can channel both ice and fire in a single swing. Then there’s the Republic of Vardil, the great maritime power of the west. They hold the Abyssal Trident, which is said to control the very seas.”

Zyrith continued to explain, detailing each kingdom and its odyssey-tier weapon with the enthusiasm of someone who had longed to share this knowledge for years. But Nyx’s mind was elsewhere, his thoughts dark and turbulent.

“The Elven Territories, home to the Verdant Bow, is the third of these great weapons. It’s said to be blessed by the spirits of the forest, capable of summoning entire trees with a single shot.”

Nyx barely heard her. His thoughts were already clouding, memories of the past he’d tried to bury resurfacing again.

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“The Scorched Wastes, with their nomadic tribes, wield the Sandstorm Spear. They say the spear can summon desert winds powerful enough to level cities.”

Nyx’s breathing grew slightly heavier, but Zyrith didn’t notice.

“And then there’s Lunaris—”

Nyx’s body froze.

“—where Princess Seraphine rules. She wields the Celestial Blade, a sword said to be able to—”

The words faded into static in Nyx’s ears. He was no longer walking. No longer listening. All he could hear was the echo of Seraphine’s voice, ridiculing him, belittling him. The memory of her eyes, cold and calculating, as she deemed him worthless—useless. The words she had used to discard him like trash resurfaced, burning through his mind like acid. She had sentenced him to die in the dungeon, and she had laughed.

Suddenly, a heavy, oppressive force began to emanate from Nyx. The tendrils of mana leaking from his body were not subtle—they were a deep, vibrant purple, swirling in the air like a storm ready to break. The very air seemed to thicken around him, pulling the world into slow motion as if the atmosphere had become heavy with the weight of his rage. Zyrith, still walking ahead, sensed the shift in the air and turned to face him. Her eyes widened in alarm as she saw the ominous purple mana swirling around Nyx, a manifestation of his barely-contained fury.

“Nyx…” she whispered, her voice shaky with concern.

He didn’t respond. His fists clenched tightly, and his eyes were hidden beneath his golden hair, but Zyrith could feel the raw fury radiating from him in waves. The townsfolk around them began to notice the oppressive energy, their chatter dying down as they looked in Nyx’s direction with a mix of curiosity and fear.

The purple tendrils of mana danced around him, growing more intense, as if reflecting the turmoil within his mind. For a long moment, the world stood still, as if everything was holding its breath, waiting for Nyx to either explode or collapse under the weight of his rage.

Zyrith’s heart skipped a beat as she realized how close he was to losing control. She had never seen such raw power, not even from the most skilled adventurers she had encountered. For a moment, she debated whether to speak or stay silent, fearful that one wrong word could trigger something far worse.

Then, slowly, Nyx exhaled. The purple tendrils of mana retreated, slowly dissipating into the air. Nyx took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to calm down. It was a battle he fought often—one between the rage that threatened to consume him and the part of him that still craved control. But for now, he had won.

“Continue,” he said coldly, his voice steady but edged with barely-suppressed fury.

Zyrith, visibly shaken, hesitated for a moment but then nodded. She continued, carefully avoiding Seraphine’s name as she spoke about Lunaris.

“The kingdom of Lunaris… It’s known for its magical prowess and wealth. The capital city is a marvel of the world, with floating towers and streets that glow with enchantments. It’s said that the Celestial Blade can cut through anything, even the fabric of time itself.”

Nyx’s rage simmered beneath the surface, but he kept it in check. He needed to stay focused. He couldn’t afford to lose control.

Zyrith’s voice softened, aware of the delicate ground she was treading. “And then there’s the Dark Empire of Valdara…”

Before she could continue, Nyx raised his hand, cutting her off.

They had arrived at their destination—a Weapon and Armor Shop. The wooden sign above the door creaked in the wind, and the shop itself looked worn but well-maintained. Inside, Nyx could sense the presence of steel and magic.

Zyrith cast one last worried glance at him, but Nyx didn’t notice. His focus was already on the weapons inside. It was time to prepare for what was to come.