Arlon returned to the potion store, assuming Charon's summons ant sothing important.
But as soon as he entered, Charon handed him a package. "Here, a gift," he said gruffly.
The tone of his voice, more suited to delivering a scolding than a present, might have intimidated most people. But Arlon was used to it.
What he wasn't used to, however, was Charon giving gifts—especially ones so carefully packaged. He assud Shirl must have been responsible for the wrapping.
Curious, Arlon opened the package. Inside was a... mask.
It was simple and unadorned, a flat white mask with two black lines extending from the top to the eye holes.
Arlon tilted his head, puzzled. Why would Charon give him a mask?
"Sir Charon... Thank you for the gift. But what is this?" he asked.
"Can't you see? It's a mask," Charon replied, his tone almost mocking.
"I know that. But does it do anything? Does it have any special features?"
"No, it's just a mask," Charon said, sighing. "Won't you need it during the tournant?"
Realization struck Arlon. Of course—a mask would help him conceal his identity during the tournant. Without it, everyone would realize that the guide Arlon and the player Arlon were the sa person.
"Sir Charon... How did you know?"
"You're too young to fool ," Charon said, a slight smirk on his face. "Just use it. Don't worry—I won't tell anyone. Besides, I don't know everything, so I won't pry."
"Thank you so much! This will help a lot," Arlon said sincerely.
Truthfully, he'd been considering other kinds of disguises—perhaps a potion or artifact, or even wrapping his head in cloth. It hadn't even occurred to him that sothing as simple as a mask could work.
One more problem solved.
---
Istarra grew more crowded by the day as new players arrived for the tournant.
In the past tiline, Morealis had been chosen as the tournant site because it had portals, making it more accessible.
Istarra, however, had no such portals. Players teleported to Morealis and then walked to Istarra, often arriving ahead of the scheduled tournant ti.
When evening fell, the servers closed, and the players logged out.
As night descended on Istarra, a man not native to the town approached the Moonlight Potion Store. He was tall, his presence commanding attention even before he spoke.
Dressed in a black hat and carrying a briefcase, his attire exuded professionalism, making it clear he was here on official business.
As he drew closer to the potion store, the townsfolk began to notice him.
Trionians had always been wary of the administrators. With the ongoing war keeping them busy, their presence in a town often ant sothing significant was happening.
Shopkeepers and passersby held their breath as he passed, relieved when he didn't stop to enter their shops.
The man, keenly aware of their unease, walked straight to the Moonlight Potion Store and stepped inside.
Inside, three people sat talking: Charon, Shirl, and Arlon.
---
Due to the influx of players, the inns in Istarra were fully booked—though Arlon found it absurd that players would rent rooms as if they planned to stay the night.
Those idiots... he said to himself. But he had done the sa thing in the past tiline in Morealis to make the experience more realistic.
With no available accommodation, Arlon had turned to Shirl for help, only to discover she was already staying with Charon.
Though the shop's ground floor was modest, Arlon learned the underground portion was massive, nearly castle-sized. Reluctantly, Charon had given him a room for the week.
And so, the three of them found themselves together at this late hour, with Charon chiding Arlon as usual.
Before Arlon could respond, the door creaked open.
A tall figure clad in simple yet elegant robes stepped inside. His long, dark hair frad sharp features and piercing amber eyes. His presence radiated authority.
"Am I interrupting?" the man asked, his voice smooth and commanding.
Shirl imdiately stood and offered a slight bow. "No, Lord Kaelion. We were just tending to a guest."
Arlon glanced at the man, confused. Kaelion? The na sounded familiar, though he couldn't place it.
Charon's expression remained neutral as he addressed the newcor. "What brings you here, Kaelion?"
Kaelion offered a faint smile. "I was sent by the governnt to oversee the preparations in Istarra. Additionally, I will escort Mrs. Shirl to Kelta after the tournant for the trial."
"I assu the circumstances will be fairly considered?" Charon asked, his tone sharp.
"You needn't worry, Sir Charon," Kaelion replied. "Everything will proceed according to the law."
Kaelion's gaze shifted to Arlon, studying him intently.
"You must be Arlon, the 'guide' who recently returned. Your reports have been imnsely helpful. On behalf of the Trionian governnt, I thank you. It seems you've taken significant risks."
Arlon bristled. "I didn't ask to be dragged into any of this. I just… happened to be in the right—or wrong—place at the right ti."
Kaelion's lips curved into a faint smile. "That's often how destiny works."
Arlon sighed, realizing he wouldn't get a straightforward answer. "So, what now? Are you here to recruit for sothing?"
Kaelion shook his head. "Not yet. I'm here to observe, gather information, and report your whereabouts. But during the tournant, there will be many governnt officials in Istarra. It's likely you'll be summoned to Kelta soon."
Arlon was satisfied with the answer. He needed to stay for the tournant and couldn't afford to leave now. Postponing the summons until afterward was ideal, giving him ti to prepare.
After briefly discussing tournant logistics with Charon, Kaelion departed. He had arranged his stay well in advance, even before the tournant's announcent.
It was a prudent move, one that left Arlon feeling foolish for not planning ahead himself.
---
That sa night, Arlon left the Moonlight Potion Store and headed toward the smithy to et Situ. Since Mondays were the designated eting day, he needed to hurry.
Situ was the town's blacksmith and the son of Sato, a legendary figure in the world of craftsmanship.
Sato had earned his legendary title after decades of forging weapons and armor for Trion's finest warriors. Eventually, he decided it was ti to retire.
To mark his retirent, he collaborated with Alchemist Charon and Magic Device Engineer Aron on a groundbreaking joint project.
Afterward, he handed the smithy over to his son, Situ, and stepped away from the forge.
Both Sato and Situ were Fhrems, a race of half-giants.
Though their towering stature and muscular builds could be intimidating, Fhrems were known for their gentle and naïve nature—at least until experience tempered their innocence.
While Sato had beco shrewd with age, Situ was still young.
Arlon couldn't help but think he could take advantage of that—though not in a malicious way. Their relationship wasn't what Arlon would call a friendship, but they were on familiar terms.
Arlon had first t Situ on the day the servers launched. That was also the day Arlon made a critical mistake: he killed a player without realizing it was against the rules set by the Trionian governnt.
Charon had scolded him in front of everyone, leaving Arlon humiliated.
He hadn't been aware of the specific instructions sent to all Trionian towns and their key figures, and he decided then and there to learn the rules.
Now, with the influx of administrators arriving in Istarra, it was the perfect ti to double-check those instructions and avoid unnecessary trouble.
The smithy appeared small from the outside, but Arlon knew better. The actual forge—the heart of the operation—was housed in a large workshop at the back.
Even standing outside, he could feel the wave of hot air escaping from the building. The smithy had a unique charm, with a sign made entirely of tal—a rare choice since most shops combined wood and tal for practicality.
The sign depicted a sword crossed with a hamr beside the store's na: Blacksmith.
What kind of na is that? Arlon thought, suppressing a chuckle. Of course, it was a blacksmith shop, but surely it deserved a more creative na.
Unbeknownst to Arlon, the shop had been nad by a young and naïve Sato when he first opened it. Now, it bore the legacy of simplicity from its original owner.
Maybe I'll suggest a better na soday, Arlon mused as he stepped inside.
The storefront was neatly arranged with swords, shields, armor pieces, and other equipnt displayed on wooden racks and tables.
Each item bore Situ's craftsmanship, ready to be sold to anyone who could afford it. The variety was impressive, ranging from basic iron swords to intricate plate armor adorned with engravings.
For a mont, Arlon considered buying sothing, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
His current gear was far superior, and besides, he planned to head to Morealis soon to upgrade his equipnt.
As Arlon admired the items, Situ erged from the back, wiping sweat from his brow. It was clear he'd been hard at work even at this late hour.
"Huh? What are you doing here at this hour?" Situ asked, his voice heavy with curiosity.
"Hey, won't you even greet properly?" Arlon replied, feigning indignation.
"Ah, sorry! Hello!" Situ said, his tone sheepish.
Arlon sighed, waving off the awkward apology. "Never mind. I ca to sell so things. Are you buying equipnt?"
Situ nodded eagerly. "Of course! Let see what you've got."
Arlon opened his inventory and displayed the items he'd collected while leveling up.
He didn't plan to sell everything—having extra gear in his inventory could be useful for future quests he would give out—but he'd selected so high-level equipnt he no longer needed.
Situ inspected the items with growing excitent. Even if so of them didn't sell, they could be reforged into new equipnt.
"These are great pieces! I'll take them all," Situ said enthusiastically.
With the transaction complete, Arlon leaned against a nearby table and struck up a conversation. "So, what's it like being a blacksmith?"
Situ looked up, startled by the question. "Do you want to beco one too?"
Arlon chuckled. Players in EVR could choose professions and hone their skills over ti.
Blacksmithing was one of the most rewarding options, but Arlon wasn't in a hurry to explore it himself.
"Not really," Arlon said. "Just curious. You know, being surrounded by fire and tal all day seems intense."
"It is," Situ admitted. "But it's also satisfying. Seeing a weapon or piece of armor you've crafted being used in battle—it's like watching your child grow strong."
Arlon nodded, though he wasn't sure he shared the sentint. Still, he appreciated the passion in Situ's voice.
"Say, was there anything related to blacksmithing in your instructions?"
He was casting his net.
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