Rhys turned the Moonstone over one last ti, then slipped it into his inventory.
The altar dimd instantly, its glow fading as if the chamber itself sighed in surrender. The silence that followed was heavy, but not hostile. Whatever trial had once guarded this place had long since ended.
Still, Rhys didn’t linger. He adjusted the Ruinous Darkness Blade across his back and started back through the ruin. Guardians still stirred in the walls, but none dared attack. The faint pressure he’d felt earlier was gone—the Moonstone had been the heart of this place, and now it was his.
Outside, the streets of the quarter seed brighter than when he had entered. The sun angled lower, golden light cutting across the weathered shops and cracked signs. rchants still hawked their strange wares, but Rhys walked past them with asured calm. He had no need to haggle here—not with what he had just found.
He paused at the edge of the street, unfolding his map again. A small mark pulsed faintly where the ruin he had just cleared stood. He tapped the parchnt, watching as the glowing mark shifted from red to gray—completed.
Over seventy percent of the city’s secrets already lay in his grasp. With each day, each step, that number crept higher. Now only the last thirty percent remained—and the clock continued ticking down toward the city’s closure.
A week left.
He muttered under his breath, "Not enough ti to waste. Every ruin, every shard counts."
The Moonstone was proof. Even in what seed like a minor ruin, treasures of incredible potential still waited. And if this was the kind of thing hidden on the edge districts, what lay deeper in the untouched ruins? What slept beneath the collapsed shrines no one dared enter?
The thought sent a quiet thrill through him.
Rhys turned away from the street and set his eyes toward the next ruin marker on his map. His steps were steady, but there was an edge to his movents now, an urgency that matched the faint thrum of the Ruinous Darkness Blade against his back.
Every find wasn’t just wealth or power. It was preparation. The kind of preparation he would need when Golden Fortune closed, when he stepped into the world beyond this island again—where enemies far more dangerous than minor guardians waited.
As the crowd thinned and the cobblestones gave way to cracked stone paths, Rhys breathed in the shifting air. The city around him humd with tension. He wasn’t the only one racing against ti. Every relic taken was one fewer left behind for soone else.
He smirked faintly, muttering, "Then I’ll just take them all."
And with that, he disappeared into the next stretch of shadowed streets, hunting for the next ruin before the week bled dry.
Rhys pressed deeper into the shadowed streets, the map guiding him through the last corners of the city’s ruins.
One by one, the markers faded gray. Minor shrines, collapsed tunnels, empty vaults—each promised more than they held. Guardians stirred, but none offered real challenge. The treasures had already been stripped away by ti, or perhaps by the city’s earlier hunters.
By the ti the sun began to sink, painting the crumbling quarter in long shadows, Rhys had confird what he already suspected. The last of Golden Fortune’s secrets had been taken. What he now carried—the Moonstone, the Ruinous Darkness Blade, the beast fragnts—was the harvest of the city’s heart. There would be no more relics here.
He stood at the edge of a ruined wall, looking out across the city as lanterns flickered to life in the distance. The lively center of Golden Fortune was already glowing with warmth, laughter spilling into the streets. A stark contrast to the silence of the ruins behind him.
He exhaled, adjusting his cloak. "That’s it, then. This city’s given what it can."
The rest was waiting. Trials in other lands. Dungeons still sleeping. And enemies who wouldn’t remain quiet forever. But those were battles for later. For now, he had ti—ti the city itself seed to grant him, a lull before the storm.
He glanced at the streets below. Tonight, he wasn’t just a hunter or a swordsman. He was soone who could walk Golden Fortune as a man among others, even if just for a little while.
Mia’s face surfaced in his mind unbidden—her sharp smile, the way she teased without restraint, how easily she could shift from playful to serious. She had asked him once, half in jest, whether he was capable of slowing down long enough to enjoy the city before it vanished.
Maybe she’d get her answer tonight.
Rhys smirked faintly, stepping down from the ruin. His boots clicked against the stone as he moved back toward the brighter streets. The weight of the Ruinous Darkness Blade didn’t vanish—it never would—but for the mont, he let it rest.
Golden Fortune would close soon. But until it did, he had one last night to claim sothing different from the city. Not relics. Not trials.
Sothing human.
The streets grew warr as Rhys walked back into the heart of Golden Fortune. Lanterns painted the air with soft gold, the scent of roasted at and spiced wine drifting from open taverns. Music spilled from a nearby square where a troupe of perforrs juggled fla, laughter echoing from the watching crowd.
For once, he didn’t keep his head low or eyes sharp. He let himself blend into the current of the city, a traveler among travelers, just another face caught in the festival-like glow.
He spotted her easily. Mia leaned against the railing of a balcony overlooking the street, dressed more simply than usual, though even simplicity clung to her with style. When she noticed him, her lips curved into that familiar sly grin.
"Took you long enough," she called, pushing off the rail and walking down to et him. "I was starting to think you’d rather spend your night in the ruins than with ."
Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. "The ruins are empty now. Guess that leaves with you."
"Oh?" Mia arched a brow, stepping close enough for her perfu to mix with the spice of the streets. "Careful. You make it sound like I’m second choice."
"Not second," he replied evenly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "The last prize worth claiming in this city."
That earned him a laugh, low and genuine. She nudged his arm with her elbow. "Flattery? From you? I should mark this night on my calendar."
They walked together, side by side, as the evening unfolded. She pulled him through the bustle of the markets, insisting he try foods he normally would’ve ignored—sweet candied fruit, fried rolls filled with herbs and cheese, wine poured into little glass cups that ward the blood. Her energy was sharp and alive, pulling him into the rhythm of the city more than he would’ve managed alone.
Later, when the streets began to quiet and the lanterns burned lower, they found themselves at her rented inn, its balcony facing the ocean. The waves crashed faintly against the island’s edge, a constant reminder that Golden Fortune was already slipping closer to its closing.
Mia leaned against the doorfra, watching him with that teasing glint still in her eyes. "So, hunter of ruins and collector of blades... do you know how to enjoy sothing without thinking about what it’s worth?"
Rhys stepped closer, close enough that her words brushed his chest instead of the air. "Guess I’ll need you to teach ."
Her smile softened at that, the sharpness giving way to sothing quieter. She reached up, fingertips grazing his jaw. "Then listen carefully."
The night drew them in after that, the city’s noise fading into the hush of waves and lamplight. For once, there were no relics, no trials, no enemies—just two people sharing the kind of mont Golden Fortune could never sell, never write into its history.
When morning ca, the city was already awake. Sunlight spilled across the balcony, breaking over the waves and painting the room in shifting gold and blue. The sll of the sea drifted in, clean and sharp, mixing with the faint trace of last night’s wine.
Rhys stirred, his eyes opening slowly. For a long mont, he lay still, listening to the sound of the tide and the muted bustle of Golden Fortune starting another day. His body felt lighter than it had in weeks—not from rest alone, but from sothing deeper, sothing steadier.
Beside him, Mia slept with one arm draped lazily across him, her breathing calm and even. The teasing sharpness she carried so easily was gone in sleep; what remained was quiet warmth.
He studied her for a mont, then carefully slipped free, standing to stretch. His muscles ached faintly from the days of ruins and fights, but the weight on his shoulders was less heavy.
The Ruinous Darkness Blade rested against the wall where he’d left it. Even in the soft morning light, the weapon seed out of place in this room, like a shadow that refused to fade. Rhys strapped it to his back anyway.
Behind him, Mia stirred, her voice low and rough with sleep. "Already leaving?"
He turned, eting her half-lidded gaze. "The city won’t wait. A week left—less now. I need to use every day."
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