The next morning, Elron woke up to a pounding at his door. He rubbed his eye and reached for his sword in annoyance.

“Who’s there?!” he demanded, his voice still groggy from sleep.

“It’s Sylra!” she called back cheerfully.

“Hold on, I’ll be right out,” he replied, quickly throwing on his simple browns and greens. He strapped his sword and pouch to him and opened the door of his rented room. There in front of him stood Sylra, dressed in a simple dress that looked more like a potato sack than a proper garment.

“Um, you’ll need a weapon. This is an easy job, yet it’s still a guard job,” he said, eyeing her outfit.

She pulled a dagger from somewhere and asked, “Does this work?”

“Yeah, looks intimidating enough,” he replied with a wiry nod.

Elron then closed and locked the door behind him, and they journeyed to the nearest gatehouse. There they found a merchant grunty who quickly dished out their jobs. With a whistle and a flash of some paperwork, they hitched a ride on a pull cart.

“Cool, so he hands us these cards and now we have jobs, just like that?” she asked, intrigued by the process.

“Yes and no,” he sighed, leaning back in the cart.

“We still have to do the job and get the signatures from the client or clients once the work is done,” he explained.

“Is it that hard? As long as we make sure this Rodrick’s fruit stand doesn’t get robbed, then surely he'll sign? Right?” she asked, her brow furrowing in thought.

Elron shrugged, “I’ve had a perfect day go by a couple of times where the client refused to sign.”

“Why?! Doesn’t that make you mad to work a whole day and not get paid?” she exclaimed, clearly upset by the idea.

“Oh, it does… It’s usually an old man who thinks I’m not worth the pay,” he replied with a resigned sigh.

“Probably a human too,” she muttered, her tone laced with disdain.

“Yeah, it makes me not like them…” he admitted.

“Woah,” called the driver.

The cart’s steed came to a halt, and the two had arrived at one of the busiest marketplaces in the center of the capital. All sorts of stalls, booths, and tents lined the area, and the crowds were massive. Thousands of people moved about like ants.

“We’re supposed to watch booths C-1 through C-10,” stated Elron as he jumped from the cart.

“That’s quite a few,” Sylra observed, looking around.

“Yeah, unfortunately, it is. Today may be a tough one. Remember, only stop those who attempt to steal the product from the booths. We can’t concern ourselves with the assaults or typical pickpockets, well, at least not today,” he advised, scanning the area.

Elron and Sylra went to approach the booth managers and introduced themselves. Most of them were pleased that someone from the agency showed up, yet some just scowled at them. Elron took up his usual position, right inbetween the booths, occasionally moving to a different spot at random. He learned it was best to look as big and intimidating as possible. It at least prevented all but the most desperate from stealing.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be guarding,” he whispered when he noticed Sylra acting oddly.

“Shhh, I am,” she responded, moving amongst the crowd in front of the booths with a hood on instead of standing next to them or behind them.

In Elron’s mind, it was an approach that was begging for trouble, and sure enough, trouble came.

Elron pointed to the booth furthest from him, “Look, get him,” he whispered urgently.

There, at the end, a man cloaked in black was scoping dozens of apples into a knapsack. The crowds moved like a river, and the clerk was unaware, talking to another customer. Elron had seen this one too many times in the past week and moved to stop the man.

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“I got him, Elric, you stand there,” Sylra said, her eyes locked onto the thief.

“Uh, this doesn’t feel right. Let me assist you,” he offered, feeling uneasy about the situation.

She dashed through the crowds after the thief. Elron pursued them, even though he could barely make out where they were going. Over the sea of heads, it appeared that they were headed toward the nearest back alleyway. The whole situation quickly frustrated him, as no one yielded to him or acknowledged his urgency to get by.

“Drop the apples, you bastard,” Sylra commanded, cornering the thief.

“Hm, what’s a pretty thing like you going to do? Stop me?” chuckled the man, clearly not taking her seriously.

She pulled out her dagger and said, “I’ll fucking stab you. Now drop them.”

“Okay, okay, here,” he relented, dropping the goods.

The man dropped the bag and threw both his hands up, yet instead of running down the opposite end of the alleyway, he slowly walked towards her. Slyra started to sweat. She kept threatening him with the blade, yet he kept coming. Inch by inch, he closed in. Things then took a turn for the worst and before she knew it, she was disarmed and pinned to the wall.

“My appetite has changed,” he sneered as he kicked her legs apart.

“Heeelp!” she screamed, her voice laced with panic.

“Stop squirming you or I’ll kill yeahs,” he growled, tightening his grip.

“Flare!” a voice called out.

Elron charged forward, his flare spell crackling in his hand. Before the man could even turn, Elron pressed the searing flame against the back of his skull, forcing him to the ground. The man rolled, clawing frantically at his burning scalp, but Elron was already on him, sword raised.

With a wild swing, Elron brought his blade down. The man threw his hands up in a desperate attempt to block, but his defense was futile—the sword bit through his fingers and cleaved into his chest. Elron’s strikes became erratic, the blade slamming down again and again, each blow more brutal than the last. His actions were akin to a boy learning to chop wood for the first time, yet this wood screamed.

The world seemed to freeze for Elron as a message appeared in his mind:

You have leveled up.

Plus one attribute point.

Select one new spell:

* Mana-blade

* Earth shot

* Wind blade

The world froze, and Elron felt time slow to a crawl as the weight of the decision before him sank in. What should I choose? His focus sharpened as he reviewed the options laid out in his mind. Mana-blade—a spell that would let him cast his magic directly into his blade. The other options were merely elemental variations of flare, but they didn’t appeal to him. His choice was clear.

Mana-blade.

The world resumed its normal pace, and he turned his thoughts to the attribute point. Without hesitation, he placed it in strength, feeling an immediate surge in his limbs as the world snapped fully back into motion.

"I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that," Slyra stammered, trembling beside him.

Elron stood silent, blood still dripping from his sword as he stared at the mutilated figure on the ground, his body diced up like road kill. And though he knew he should have felt something—guilt, horror—all he felt was a peculiar sense of relief. Why? Was it because of what the man had done? Or was it something deeper within him?

So, this is what power feels like, he mused.

Slyra tugged at his arm, her voice breaking with fear. "Please, let’s go."

Snapping out of his reverie, Elron finally turned away. "Yeah… sure." Without another word, he headed back toward the booths.

"Elric! We need to report this to the guards!" she pressed, following close behind him, her worry evident.

He brushed her off with a wave of his hand. "No. I’m not going back. Not ever. You can if you want."

Slyra’s jaw dropped. "You just killed someone! Shouldn’t we be doing… anything else besides selling melons?" Her voice was a mix of frustration and confusion.

"No," he replied flatly, his tone brookering no debate.

Left dumbfounded, she quickly fell in behind him as he resumed his duties at the stall, posting up like nothing had happened. Slyra glanced around nervously, then tried to mimic his rigid stance, adopting a glare that felt forced as she eyed each passerby. They stayed like that until the market emptied with the setting sun.

When it was finally over, she turned to him with hesitant concern. "Are you… alright?"

He gripped his sword’s hilt tightly, his eyes dark. "I don’t know."

She reached out, hoping to lighten the moment. "Maybe we can get the signatures and grab a drink. Forget today, just for a while?"

He shook his head, handing over the papers without meeting her gaze. "I’m turning in early. Here are the signatures I’ve collected." His voice was distant, already pulling away.

She searched his face, disappointment etched in her eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. Take care, Slyra. Stay out of trouble," he muttered before heading toward the tavern, leaving her standing alone in the twilight.

Inside the noisy inn, patrons laughed, threw cards, and drank themselves into stupors. Elron ignored the chaos, heading straight to the bar, paying his dues, and retreating to his room. He stripped off his gear, tossing his belt aside, and sank into bed. The frame creaked as he settled, and soon only the distant muffled sounds of the revelry downstairs remained.

But his thoughts wouldn’t still. They circled back to that feeling, that unsettling calm that had washed over him after taking a life.

This feeling…