The next morning, as they sat down for breakfast, Artemis still looked like death warmed over. Hela didn’t look much better. But if one were to ask who looked the most miserable, it would have been Lokey.
A night spent thinking about what Asra and his sister had said weighed heavily on him. Guilt gnawed at his chest over the destruction of the church. He hadn’t thought about the innocent people of the city—those who now looked at him with fear. He had left them without a place to worship their god. It wasn’t their fault, but he had taken it away from them.
Hela complained that her mana still hadn’t returned, but Artemis just told her to relax and rest. Then they pressed him to explain what he’d meant about meeting a god.
After he finished explaining what had happened, the three went their separate ways. Hela left for her normal morning walk, where she made a habit of getting to know the villagers. Lokey found himself back at the ruined church, met with looks of fear—and some anger—from the townspeople.
He stared at his work. He couldn’t undo what he had done. But using his strength and crafting knowledge, he began to build a small area where people could pray. When he finished, he bowed his head to an old woman nearby.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly—to her, and to the town. “Not for what I did… but for not thinking about the people of this city. I was just so angry. That doesn’t make up for it.”
Mornings later, as dawn spilled gold across the rooftops, Hela woke with a gasp.
For days, her body had felt hollow—her magic torn from her by the powder the churchmen had thrown at her. She had been left powerless, silenced, as though part of her soul had been ripped away.
But now—at last—it returned.
The familiar hum of power stirred in her chest, flowing back into her veins like a rushing tide. Relief flooded her, chased by determination. She felt lighter on her feet, like a weight had lifted from her chest—one she hadn’t even known was there. She wanted to push her limits, to feel her magic flowing through her fingers again.
Her feet carried her to the ruins of the church before she had even thought about what she meant to do.
The square was already alive with people—masons, laborers, and townsfolk arguing over what could be salvaged. But when they saw her, their voices faltered. The girl the priest had once called a demon now stood in the rubble, wand in hand, a kind smile on her face as the sunrise painted her in pale gold.
Hela raised her hand.
A hush fell.
[System Notification]
Skill Acquired: Material Manipulation (Basic → Intermediate)
Your affinity for shaping physical matter has evolved through intent, study, and conviction.
Glass shards stirred, lifting from the earth. Sunlight glinted off fractured edges as they spun and melted back into flawless panes, forming glass mosaics representing all the gods of this world—not just the one the church had once represented. Her days spent in the Guild’s library, reading about the world and its many gods, guided her hands.
Stone shifted and rose, settling into place with sharp cracks and low groans. Mortar flowed like water, stitching walls together as if time itself were reversing.
Gasps swept through the crowd as the church rebuilt itself before their eyes.
Yet one scar she left untouched—the deep hammer mark her brother had carved into the altar. One strike, enough to shatter a house of God. She would not erase it. She could not.
At last, the glass clicked into place, sunlight blazing through the windows. The church stood whole again—restored not by masons or coin, but by the very magic the people had once tried to strip from her.
She reshaped the golden phoenix that had once stood at the center of the altar into a cross. Then she sank to her knees before it.
Her lips moved in prayer—not to the saints and gods the crowd knew, but to her god. The one worlds away. The one none of them had ever heard of.
She prayed for her brothers. One broken in body. The other in spirit. She prayed for their safety, for their continued strength, and for the courage to keep their family together. And she prayed for the safety and prosperity of the people of Haven.
From the edge of the square, the priest who had ordered her death watched in silence.
His stomach twisted as he saw the faces of the people—awed, reverent, uncertain. He had called her a demon, cursed and damned. He had filled their ears with fear while lining his coffers with gold.
But here she knelt, bathed in sunrise, looking more saint than sinner.
He knew the truth then.
If the upper ranks of the church learned of this, his schemes would be exposed. They would see her as a miracle—and him as a fraud. His private army, his stolen gold, his lies laid bare. The power he had stolen would vanish. And with it, his life as he knew it.
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Hela finished her prayer and rose. She left the church behind, the cross still standing on the altar—not theirs.
That, she thought, was for them to mend.
She walked through the waking streets, and the people smiled at her. Tentative at first, then warmer as she returned each one. For the first time, she truly felt that the city was home. The colors of the market stalls, the laughter of children, the scent of fresh bread—it all filled her heart.
She began to love this world.
Turning a corner, she brushed past a row of merchants setting out their wares and collided with someone at a stall. She stumbled, then froze.“Tessa,” Hela breathed.
The older girl turned, arms full of herbs and spices, her expression softening. Morning light caught her hair, and for an instant, Hela forgot how to speak. Around her brothers, she was strong. Among strangers, defiant. But with Tessa, she felt shy—her confidence slipping through her fingers.
“Sorry,” Hela murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks warm. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Tessa smiled, gentle and unhurried. “It’s all right,” she said softly. “I’m glad to see you, Hela.”
Back at the church, the first worshippers hesitantly stepped inside, whispering prayers of gratitude as their eyes roamed over restored walls and gleaming glass—designs honoring many gods. Sunlight painted the pews in colors too bright to ignore.
At the altar, the priest stood stiff, eyes fixed not on the people but on the cross.
The golden cross gleamed where once the holy phoenix had perched.
Hela had left it undone.
He knew what that meant.
To the people, she would look like a saint. But to him, she was the end of everything.
A bead of sweat traced his temple as he forced a brittle smile. “A blessing,” he said. “Yes… a blessing from God.”
A figure stepped beside him—another priest, eyes sharp as glass.
“It is a miracle,” the man said quietly. “And yet… did you not say that poor girl was the devil herself?”
The head priest’s stomach went cold.
He raised his voice, rehearsed and hollow. “Light and shadow walk hand in hand. We must remain vigilant. Always vigilant.”
The sanctuary held together by fear—just barely.
Meanwhile, across the city, Hela and Tessa walked hand in hand beneath the sunlit sky, laughter easy between them. They had shared breakfast in a quiet tavern, and now moved as though they had always belonged side by side.
For once, the world didn’t feel cruel.
For once, Hela allowed herself to be happy.
Together, they stepped into the Adventurer’s Guild, the doors closing softly behind them.
The Guildhall was as alive as ever, bustling with voices, clattering mugs, and the smell of roasted meat wafting through the air. Adventurers shouted over dice games, groups compared scars at crowded tables, and the notice board was swarmed with new recruits eager to find work.
Hela entered at Tessa’s side, her hand still warm in hers from their walk together. Artemis slapped Lokey on the chest and pointed with a wide smile. The half-dwarf gave Hela a quick kiss on the cheek before ducking behind the counter, already slipping into the rhythm of her job.
“Talk to you later,” Tessa said with a grin before vanishing into her duties.
Hela turned, still smiling softly—only to hear her brothers.
“Yeah, you go, girl!” Artemis whooped, grinning ear to ear.
Lokey chuckled, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Finally worked up the courage, huh?”
Artemis elbowed him. “About time!”
Hela froze, her face turning scarlet. “You guys!” she snapped, but her brothers were already laughing, enjoying themselves far too much. She marched over and punched Artemis playfully on the shoulder, though her smile betrayed her embarrassment.
“So,” she said, her voice softening, “how are you feeling?”
Artemis stretched his legs out, still looking pale but steadier than he had been in days. “I’m okay. A little weak, but… my stats are finally back to normal. I can control my mana again, too. Doesn’t feel like it’s burning me alive anymore.”
Relief washed over Hela’s face, though she tried not to let it show.
Lokey leaned forward across the table, ever the planner. “Do we want to see how much we’ve earned? It’s been a few days, our pockets are almost empty, and we need new gear.” He tapped the table for emphasis. “I think it’s time we all find teachers as well. The basics of magic for you and Artemis, for starters—and blacksmithing for me.”
“Of course you want us to get teachers, nerd,” Artemis joked.
Together, they walked to the counter. Tessa greeted them with her usual warm smile, though her eyes lingered on Hela a moment longer.
“What can I help you with?”
“We’ve got some monster corpses, cores, goblin weapons,” Artemis said casually. “Oh—and magical crystals.”
Tessa reached for her ledger. “Alright, let’s get it logged—”
Artemis snapped his fingers.
His storage space opened, and the world tilted.
With a thunderous crash, thirty skeletons spilled across the Guildhall floor, clattering into a macabre heap. Ten cave wolves and five hellhounds followed, their hulking forms slamming down with heavy thuds. Forty goblins tumbled out after them, rolling like rag dolls in a heap of green limbs.
Gasps filled the hall.
And then came the treasure.
A hundred pounds of silver poured out in stacked bars, ringing like bells as they struck the floor. Ten pounds of mithril followed, glowing faintly in the lantern light. And finally—like a starfall—sixteen pounds of magical crystals spilled across the counter and scattered onto the floor, painting the walls with shimmering color.
For a heartbeat, silence held the Guildhall.
Then the place erupted.
“By the gods!” one adventurer shouted, vaulting onto a bench for a better look.
“That’s insane!” another laughed. “Those rookies brought in more in a week than I’ve seen in my career!”
“Look at the mithril—look at it shine!”
“Sixteen pounds of crystals? Do you know how many enchantments that could fuel?”
Mugs slammed against tables, boots stomped the floor, and cheers filled the hall. Adventurers raised their drinks in salute—not with envy, but with fire in their eyes. To them, it was inspiration. A challenge. A goal worth chasing.
Hela flushed red and tugged her hood lower as her brothers basked in the roar of approval.
Behind the counter, Tessa stood frozen, her quill hovering uselessly in her hand. She glanced at Artemis, then at the mountain of corpses, treasure, and glowing crystal light flooding her workspace—then back at Artemis again.
“You…” she finally managed, her voice faint. “You brought all of this in your storage?”
Artemis leaned casually against the counter, grinning as if it were nothing. “Yup. And that’s not even everything. But hey—we figured the guild would pay fair coin for it.”
Lokey folded his arms, a smirk curling across his lips. “The metals are mine. You can sell the rest.”
Hela groaned, burying her face in her hands as her brothers looked far too proud of themselves.
Tessa finally set down her quill and exhaled a long, heavy breath. A small smile tugged at her lips, caught somewhere between fondness and exasperation.
“This,” she said, shaking her head, “is going to take a while to process.”
Artemis winked. “No rush. We’ll be here.”
Lokey and Artemis were already planning their next dive into the dungeon. The Guildhall roared around them, alive with energy, and for the first time in days, the siblings felt the weight of their struggles ease—if only for a little while.
