Anthony, Pom, and Elara sat before the head of the judicial council. After alerting the guards and sending the three surviving villains off—two to prison and one for emergency medical care—the young companions were thoroughly questioned for over an hour.

As the council head prepared to interrogate them further, a guard stepped into the room, walking up sternly and whispering something to the elderly man. The gray-haired council leader nodded and waved the guard away.

“Very well. The confession of your assailants has been extracted, and since you have explained that you will all be leaving my town very shortly anyway, I am not inclined to pursue this matter any further. Dismissed!”

SLAM

The council head struck his mallet against the desk, signaling the issue’s closure and allowing the three to leave with a verbal warning to avoid further trouble.

As they stepped back onto the streets of the small town, Pom let out a sigh of relief as she turned to Anthony and Elara.

“That was scary, I’ve never been questioned by the courts before. Anyway, I need to go speak with my family. They’ll have to decide who will take over running the shop after I leave. Anthony, now that your stepfather is gone, your family property belongs to you. You should think about selling that old house.”

Elara’s eyelids fluttered slightly at the mention of the property now in Anthony’s name. Stepping toward him, she flashed a brilliant smile, eagerly encouraging Anthony to follow Pom’s suggestion.

“That’s perfect! You need a new weapon after turning yours into a puddle, and it won’t be cheap. You’ll need something that can withstand high levels of magical energy so this doesn’t happen again. Plus, you still need to repay me and Edgar. Come on, I’ll help you get it done.”

Elara waved to Pom as she grabbed Anthony’s hand, pulling him along toward the town hall without waiting for a response. Anthony decided that it was for the best, since the home would go to ruin while he was gone if he didn’t sell it anyway.

They reached the town hall without issue, and after enduring an hour of tedious bureaucracy Anthony was finally handed a fresh deed to the property his mother had left behind, now listing him as the sole owner.

Elara nodded in satisfaction as she glanced at the paper. Next, she suggested that Anthony should head to the local merchant organization, explaining her thinking as they walked.

“You don’t have time to slowly wait for the best price since we’re leaving as soon as Edgar’s team gets back. The best thing to do is leave it for the merchants to sell and accept a bit less than the fair market price. That way, we get the coin right away.”

Anthony and Elara stepped into the merchant organization, and half an hour later, they walked back out. Anthony scratched the back of his head with uncertainty as Elara counted the bag of silver coins.

“Twelve silver coins! Not too shabby! After paying back me and Edgar, you’re left with nine silver. Catch!”

Elara tossed the sack of coins to Anthony as they headed toward the blacksmith shop they had visited previously in order to sharpen his grandfather's sword.

Inside, a young clerk was polishing the heads of a row of spears that hung on the storeroom wall. Anthony approached the young man and pulled the remains of his ruined sword from his bag.

“I’d like to purchase a new weapon. My cultivation technique generates too much energy, and my last sword was destroyed.”

The clerk’s eyes widened slightly as he took the melted sword in his hands, running his fingers across the bubbled metal before handing it back. After rubbing his chin and glancing at the display case full of swords for a few seconds, the clerk soon responded.

“Hmm. That’s not something you can buy cheap. These swords are all meant for normal hunters or guardsmen. Let me go ask my dad if he’s got anything like that.”

Stolen novel; please report.

The young man hurried into the forge, where his father was hard at work. The clanging of metal from the distant room soon ceased, replaced by the murmur of voices and the sound of footsteps.

A few minutes later, a large, sweaty man in a leather apron walked in. He eyed Elara up and down for a few seconds before placing a large item wrapped in leather on the table in front of Anthony. His gruff voice rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re damn lucky, kid. About three years ago, a magic user in the Focused realm ordered a sword from me—one that could withstand high levels of power and heat. Once it was made, he tried to pressure me into cutting the price in half, thinking he could force me into a corner because I’d already invested in crafting the damn thing.”

The blacksmith flipped open the leather wrapping, revealing a beautiful black sword with a U-shaped guard oriented toward the weapon's tip. Anthony fell in love with it the moment his eyes landed on it, gently lifting it off the counter as the polished black metal gleamed in the light.

Noticing the look in Anthony’s eyes, a smirk tugged at the corner of the blacksmith’s mouth as he continued to speak.

“Twenty silver. That’s five silver less than the original price—I just want this thing out of my shop.”

Anthony’s expression dropped as he looked up at the blacksmith with shock, he opened his mouth to complain but Elara motioned for him to stay silent. Stepping forward, she leaned in to examine the sword closely before shaking her head.

“It’s a nice sword, and maybe if someone commissioned you to make it, you could charge fifteen silver. But this isn’t a custom order for us—it’s been sitting in your shop collecting dust for years. If we pool our coins together, we might be able to scrounge up six silver. You can take that or keep using this thing as an overpriced pillow.”

The blacksmith narrowed his eyes, crossing his thick arms over his chest as he let out a dissatisfied huff. Elara met his glare without flinching, and suddenly, the two launched into a rapid-fire exchange.

“I've got to at least get thirteen!”

“Too bad—you'll only get six!”

“Now listen here, girly! I paid eight silver just for the materials alone!”

“Deal! Eight it is.”

The blacksmith's face turned beet red as he raised one burly hand, his finger pointing at Elara as he prepared to continue the argument, but before he could, his son—who had been silent during the whole exchange—stepped forward and shook Elara’s hand.

“Deal! Sorry, Dad. I know you’re still upset about losing out on this sword, but we can’t afford to wait another three years to sell it.”

A smug expression spread across Elara’s face as she swiftly grasped the young clerk’s hand, squinting in satisfaction at her small victory.

The blacksmith threw up his hands in frustration before stomping out of the room. Anthony thanked the clerk as he handed over the eight silver.

As they stepped out of the blacksmith’s shop, Anthony strapped his new sword to his waist before gazing sadly at the single silver coin remaining in his pouch.

Elara slapped his back gently when she noticed his gloomy expression.

“Don’t be so glum, handsome! That blacksmith wasn’t lying about the value of that sword—you could probably get sixteen silver for it in Highwarden. But selling it would be dumb. You’re a mercenary now—a strong weapon is your ticket to riches!”

The two companions made their way toward Pom’s shop, where they found her waiting outside with a heavy apothecary’s bag strapped over her shoulders. The bag was nearly half her size and packed so full it looked ready to burst.

As Pom spotted them approaching, she broke into a run, waving with a big smile. Because she wasn’t accustomed to running with such a heavy pack, she lost her balance and began to stumble forward. She put up a valiant effort as she tried desperately to move faster to keep from falling forward.

Unfortunately, she failed.

Pom toppled down, all her momentum transferring into her head as it cracked against the cobblestone sidewalk. She appeared to almost bounce off the stone as she instantly scrambled back to her feet, seemingly unharmed—but finding that her glasses had vanished during the fall.

As she spun around, searching frantically, Elara and Anthony approached with strange expressions etched across their faces. Pom glanced up at them hurriedly and gestured toward the ground.

“Won’t you help me? I can’t find my glasses.”

Elara and Anthony exchanged a glance before Elara stepped forward and whispered something in Pom’s ear. A second later, the young girl’s face went pale. Slowly, she reached up and felt one end of her glasses poking out from inside her forehead.

With a shaky grip, she wrapped her fingers around the exposed portion and pulled. As the glasses slid out, her skin briefly took on a jelly-like consistency, jiggling slightly before settling back into place.

Pom calmly returned the glasses to her eyes as her skin turned back to normal, then cleared her throat as she subtly changed the subject.

“Ehem… So, what’s our next move?”