Finally finding an isolated nook away from the prying eyes of the city, Erik cautiously peered around, ensuring he was truly alone.
Assured of his solitude, he slowly withdrew his Chameleon Veil brain crystal power and took off the mask as the thin layer of mana dissolved into nothingness.
He scratched his face, his skin warm to the touch after being under the mask for so long.
His sigh of relief could be heard faintly in the nook's otherwise peaceful atmosphere.
After enduring the day's challenges, he permitted himself to smile contentedly. He rested against the wall and savored the tranquility, which contrasted with the city's lively atmosphere and the busy guild hall.
"Well, that's finally over," he muttered to himself, relief evident in his voice. His words echoed around the silent room, starkly contrasting with the roaring crowd he had just escaped from.
But the thought of the impending final test cut short his victory. "Just one more to go," he said to himself, his words ringing with determination.
The peaceful moment was interrupted by a sudden low noise, which served as a reminder of more urgent matters. Erik realized that he was very hungry, no, he was starving, something his empty stomach was making clear. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until that moment since he had been too busy at the guild.
Erik pushed himself off the wall with a wry chuckle at his own neglect. The tricky part had, at the very least, come to an end for the time being.
After all, he had been through that day; he deserved a satisfying meal. He started walking away, the prospect of food invigorating his worn-out spirit as he did so.
After spending some time alone, he returned to the city and was immediately immersed in the bustle, din, and mayhem of the urban environment.
His destination was a small eatery he knew not too far from his current location, a place that served hearty meals that would satiate his ravenous hunger.
ραΠdαsΝοvel.cοm Erik's journey through the bustling city of Testrovsc's Rest was an adventure in and of itself. The city was alive with the energy of countless mercenaries coming and going from their various assignments. The city's layout was a complex maze of streets and alleys as if designed to confuse visitors.
Among the muscle and metal of the mercenary population, the city was a veritable treasure trove of blacksmith shops, armorers, and weapon dealers.
Each storefront was distinct in its own way, vying for attention with bright signs and the glittering allure of expertly forged weaponry and meticulously crafted armor.
The constant clanging of hammers on anvils, the hiss of cooling metal, and the shouts of merchants selling their wares filled the air.
Honestly, it was strange to see someone manually working on a sword, as this was not how it was done in Frant. Except for some parts of the craft, everything was left to machines. The blacksmith job didn't exist there, but it was as common here as the mercenary profession.
Jewelry-making, alchemy, and armorsmithing were among the professions that Frant prohibited ordinary people from practicing, reserving them exclusively for the military.
Erik moved purposefully through the narrow, winding streets, dodging mercenaries haggling over weapon prices or discussing recent bounties.
He passed by several stores, each proudly displaying their wares. The city was a mercenary's dream, with gleaming swords and shields, intricate armor, and the occasional exotic weapon.
A sizable statue of a well-known mercenary dominated the city's central square as he passed through it—a symbol of the city's rich history and the spirit of its people.
The square was bustling with locals and visitors, its cobblestones worn smooth by countless feet. Food stalls dotted the perimeter, filling the air with enticing aromas.
Erik continued his journey into a quieter part of the city, a district lined with quaint eateries and inns. The muffled chatter of customers and the sizzle of grills replaced the city's clamor here. The aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread filled the air.
He arrived at his destination, a small, unassuming eatery tucked away from the city's main thoroughfares. A faint smile crossed his lips as he pushed open the door, already anticipating the satisfying meal that awaited him inside. Despite the day's difficulties, this small pleasure was his to enjoy.
When Erik entered the inn, its hospitable warmth engulfed him. The inn's interior was a cozy mix of rustic and modern elements.
Soft lantern light illuminated the rough wooden tables and chairs, casting dancing shadows against the stone-filled walls; everything was built in such a way as to resemble a medieval tavern. The aroma of hearty stews and freshly baked bread filled the air, making his stomach grumble.
The young man did not appear to be surprised by the scene, as he had anticipated finding a location that was so rural in the middle of the city.
A bartender on the other side of the room was expertly pouring ale into mugs. His hands moved with the speed and precision that can only come from years of experience.
Before he could settle down, his eyes darted around the room in a flurry until they landed on someone he recognized. Mira, the woman he had met outside of the city, was secluded at a table in a quiet nook of the restaurant where she was eating by herself.
She carried herself in a calm and collected manner, belying the rowdy environment of the inn. Her tresses, which were long and dark, were neatly braided over her shoulder, and her outfit, which was forest green, matched her hairstyle perfectly.
Because of her dark hair, she looked a bit like an elf. Even though it had been a month since he had last seen her, the allure of her presence was just as strong as it had been before. The young man was compelled to approach her after seeing her lost in thought and giving off an air of peace while he observed her.
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