"Glenn, don't move."

"Wait wait wait, Sahro, you don't know what you're doing!"

"I perfectly know what I'm doing. Damned ruh sayiya!"

"Lower your damned sword, Sahro!"

"Yeah, for real, what have I done to you?"

"Damn it, Diamanes you're not helping!"

"Don't worry, Glenn, I'll free you from this devil! Just... let me cut this damned–"

Glenn desperately held on to Sahro's hand, whose sword was about to cut into his left wrist. The Black Heir was determined to lop off the purple hand, his expression hardened.

“It’s going to be painful,” Sahro warned,”...But you’ll thank me later.”

Glenn grunted as he pushed Sahro off, his superhuman strength coming in handy, and tried to calm the Black Heir, “No, I won’t! Now, listen to me—WOW!” He yelped as Sahro’s sword landed a hair’s breadth away from his wrist.

“AH! THAT WAS WAY TOO CLOSE!” Glenn screamed as he hurriedly retreated, his back against the wall. He hid his left hand behind his back, his mind racing to find a way out of this situation.

“Glenn, stop resisting…” Sahro readied his sword, an ominous crimson Aura covering it, “Or I will be forced to take action against you!” He lunged at Glenn, his sword cutting through the air to stab him. Glenn instinctively discharged his Mana formlessly, creating a sudden, pure burst of Mana. The invisible force caught Sahro off guard and knocked him back. He was sent stumbling back to crash into a stack of crates, buried in dust and flour. Glenn’s heart pounded in his chest as he panted, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Sahro, disheveled and slightly bruised, slowly picked himself up from the crates, his sword still in hand. He readied his sword once again, his Aura flaring up once more, and prepared to dash with as much strength as he could muster—

“OH! Are you done destroying my things? Get the hell out of there!!!” Laurence’s angry voice interrupted them from above the ceiling. Sahro paused for a moment, his eyes glued to Glenn’s purple hand, before he reluctantly sheathed his sword. He walked up to Glenn and stabbed his finger in his chest.

“You owe me explanations, Glenn!” He hissed, his face filled with distrust and anger.

Glenn nodded silently, already coming to terms with it. They both looked at each other, while Diamanes kept silent, aware of the complications he just created for his host. Glenn quickly concealed his left hand under a piece of cloth and made his way out of the basement. As he emerged from the trapdoor, a kitchen towel slapped him on the forehead, sending him right back down.

"Don't bring that filth with you! Wipe it off, damn it!" Laurence, the baker, exclaimed in fury, her anger far more terrifying than any monstrous rats.

“Yes, yes M’am Laurence,” Glenn grunted as he obediently wiped himself clean, making sure no remnants of flesh or brain clung to him. He finally headed back upstairs, where Laurence was waiting, rolling pin in hand. She tapped her other hand with it softly, ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

The lady sent a distrustful gaze back into the trapdoor, but her tension eased when she saw Sahro's head pop up. She sighed in relief and threw the rolling pin away.

"Is it done?" she asked, her voice less stern.

Glenn nodded, “There’s quite a mess down there, though. There are quite a few large bodies and a lot of blood. Will you be fine with…?”

Laurence waved her hand dismissively while rolling her eyes, “Oh, if you don’t want the corpses, leave them to me. I know a few people who pay upfront for monster bodies, I’ll take care of them.”

Glenn smiled and sighed deeply as he collapsed on a chair. Sahro stood with his arms crossed, staring at Glenn distrustfully. The latter rubbed his forehead, his eyes suddenly tearing up by themselves. He blinked and wiped the tears off, feeling as if the world was a little more clearer than it was moments ago.

‘...What is this…?’ He wondered as he blinked confusedly, only for the feeling to go away like a mirage.

Laurence patted both Glenn and Sahro on the shoulders and chuckled, “Well, gentlemen, I have work to do and corpses to get rid of.” She clasped her hands together and graced them with a grateful smile.

"Thank you so much. I'll finally be able to be back in business. Give me your contract, I'll conclude the deal."

Glenn complied, retrieving the contract from his dimensional pouch. Laurence produced a bottle of ink and a fountain pen from one of her pockets, swiftly signing the piece of paper. She handed the contract back to the young man before hurrying back inside her bakery. Glenn examined the contract briefly before stowing it away in his pouch.

Laurence returned with a bottle in her hands, surprising Glenn with a warm smile.

"I know you'll already get a reward, but I noticed you liked it quite a bit. You can always come and buy some more here later!" she exclaimed, handing a bottle of cider to Glenn. The young man accepted it with gratitude, noting the tag on it that read "Hearths Bakery — Brut Cider."

"Thank you very much, M’am Laurence… I— We appreciate it," Glenn said, genuinely touched.

The lady scoffed, giving Glenn's shoulder a playful slap, "Aye, I'm not the one who risked my life. Have a nice day, Fixers!"

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Glenn nodded, leaving the bakery with Sahro in silence. The sun hung high in the sky, and Glenn's stomach rumbled, reminding him that it was already noon.

'A watch would be greatly appreciated,' he thought wryly as they strolled through the Northern Town’s streets. Sahro, however, remained fixated on Glenn's left hand with a mixture of hate and disgust, clearly unnerved by the recent events.

Diamanes' voice chimed in within Glenn's mind, mocking Sahro relentlessly, 'Damn, that guy must really like me for him to stare so much!'

Glenn fought the urge to hurl insults at the entity, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. 'God damnit, Diamanes. I might get killed by this idiot thanks to you appearing out of the blue earlier! I can't believe my safety is in jeopardy because of a DAMNED BURP!'

The two men arrived at the Cleaner's Workshop half an hour later, heading directly to the counter. Glenn retrieved the signed contract and held it out to Allison, the familiar attendant. She accepted it with a smile, checking the signature before making some notations on her side.

"Good job on your first task, Glenn and Sahro. Hand me your Fixers IDs, please."

Glenn and Sahro summoned their silver daggers, handing them over to Allison. She held both daggers for a few moments, during which numbers flashed on the handles.

"That's your contribution points," Alisson explained. "You can use them in the armory, at the smithy, or save them up for the rank-up tests. There are tons of uses for them, so use them sparingly."

Glenn took his dagger back, noting the number ten shining gently in a silver hue. Sahro retrieved his as well. Allison then bent down behind the counter, producing silver coins one after the other. Two piles of twelve silver coins stood on her side, dwarfed by two large copper towers, each made up of fifty coins. Glenn and Sahro accepted their pay while expressing their gratitude to attendant Alisson.

Without exchanging words, they proceeded to the Dining Hall, where they paid for their silver-ranked meal, slipping ten copper coins each in the hand of the cook. The meal consisted of a golden-brown roasted chicken glistening with a hint of olive oil. Surrounding the chicken was a colorful array of roasted vegetables, and a herbed gravy drizzled over the entire dish, emanating an enticing aroma.

Glenn didn't waste any time thinking about Sahro, Diamanes, or anything else. He quickly found an empty table and eagerly devoured his meal. Sahro joined him, equally ravenous.

After ten awkward and silent minutes of eating, the two friends found themselves staring at each other, hostility lingered in the air. Sahro's gaze, in particular, was fixed on Glenn's left hand, which was now tightly wrapped under bandages, the purple skin completely hidden.

The Black Heir finally spoke, his voice hesitant and wary. "Can... Can it hear us?"

Glenn sighed as a muffled voice emerged from beneath the bandages. "Of course, I can, moron! And it's him! Him! Not it! I’m not an animal!"

Sahro sprang from his seat, his hand instinctively returning to the hilt of his sword. Glenn shook his head, calmly rising from his chair, and gestured for his companion to follow him. With a bit of a mental struggle to remember the way, Glenn aimed for the Dormitories but found himself in the central Nexus instead.

"Well, this will work as well as any other place," he mumbled to himself.

Choosing a somewhat secluded spot, Glenn removed the bandages from his hand. Sahro watched the process intently, his hand hovering near his sword, ready for action. As the bandages unraveled, the purple skin of Glenn's hand was revealed, and a mouth emerged in its palm.

A relieved breath escaped from it, and Diamanes smiled, revealing all his peerlessly white teeth.

"Well, it's finally time for the presentation, I suppose. Nice to meet you Sahro, I'm Diamanes, the one and only." He proudly exclaimed. Glenn shook his head dejectedly, fighting back the urge to slap his forehead.

Sahro observed Glenn's hand from a cautious distance before cautiously inching closer, his guard still up.

"What is it?" the young Black Heir asked, ignoring the hand’s demands, his voice tinged with unease as he stared at the peculiar sight of the purple hand hosting the mouth.

Glenn shrugged, eyeing his hand with a grimace.

"Well, for now, I've decided to categorize him as an annoying, somewhat useful talking hand."

Sahro's expression shifted from confusion to concern, "You know that spirit possessions are very serious matters, Glenn?" he blurted out, his unease becoming more pronounced as he continued to focus on Glenn's unusual hand.

The young man sighed wearily, scratching the back of his neck with his normal hand.

"I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm still in control, and he's more like another voice than an evil entity that wishes to consume my soul."

Sahro shot one last dubious look at Diamanes, who responded with a wide, shameless grin, his white teeth shining under the afternoon sun. After a few moments of contemplation, Sahro sighed and withdrew his hand from his sword.

"Are you sure it's not dangerous?" he inquired cautiously.

Diamanes couldn't help but interject once again, outraged, "Hey, not it, I said, he! HE!!!”

Glenn shook his head, paying little attention to his hand's complaints.

"The most you risk with this guy is getting annoyed to death. He's basically a tool that can talk; don't worry too much about it."

Sahro nodded hesitantly, casting another uneasy glance at Diamanes. He crossed his arms, still not entirely at ease with the presence of the talking hand.

"So, what's the plan now?" Sahro inquired.

Glenn rebandaged his hand, ignoring Diamanes' continued protests.

"Right now, I'm going to get some new clothes, and go check out this Magi Brotherhood, wherever that is, while you'll do... well, whatever you want honestly."

Sahro raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat puzzled.

"What am I supposed to do?"

Glenn shrugged, ensuring the bandages were securely in place.

"I don't know, there are plenty of activities in the Fringe, right? I'm sure you'll find something."

Glenn stepped past Sahro, leaving him behind as he headed towards the Armory and Smithy hallway. Perhaps he would find something to his liking there, and if not, there were bound to be shops elsewhere.

After walking alone for a few minutes, Glenn arrived in a hall with two rooms on each side. One emitted an intense heat, while the other resembled a weapons and armor shop. Glenn pushed open the glazed door to the latter, and a bell rang, announcing his entrance.

A thundering voice emanated from behind the shop's counter, startling Glenn.

"WELCOME!"

Glenn glanced around but couldn't spot the source of the voice. It appeared there was no one at the counter, so where...

"I suppose you're a newbie, aye?" the voice called out again, this time from the ground.

Glenn looked down and found a scrawny figure, about the size of a ten-year-old child, staring up at him with a big smile and an equally large ginger beard. The figure was dressed in puffy, silky clothes and had a peculiar, spiky haircut that matched the color of his beard. His nose seemed oddly bent as if it had naturally grown that way. A small tag near his breast pocket read "Rusty Stoneheart."

"What can I do for you?" the little shopkeeper asked with a chuckle.