Chapter 59: Speculation

  They did not linger in Darkhollow’s markets after securing the necessary concealments.

  What coin remained went toward simpler pieces for Aoife and Slade, chosen for travel and distance rather than close scrutiny. Aoife received a thin cord bracelet threaded with duskstone powder, its enchantment barely more than a suggestion. It did not hide her mana, only scattered its outward trace so attempts to read her power would blur and fracture instead of resolving cleanly.

  Slade’s was a narrow leather band meant for the forearm, lined with copper thread etched in restraint sigils. When his skills stirred, the band softened the initial surge, keeping the formation inward until he committed to action. Anyone watching would see the result, not the build.

  Neither piece was rare. Neither was expensive. They were the kind of protections meant to keep attention from settling too long.

  The children remained outside the walls under guard.

  With the light fading and the roads growing crowded, Ellowen and Perrin passed through the inner gate alone and stopped at an inn near the crossroads that fed traffic toward the capital. The building was broad and well warded, its stones stained dark from years of hearth smoke and spellwork. Lanterns glowed steadily along the porch. Two guards stood near the door, relaxed but watchful, hands resting near weapons that had earned their wear.

  Inside, the common room was already full.

  Firelight flickered across long tables packed with travelers. Adventurers in road-worn gear ate loudly, trading stories and complaints. Merchants clustered near the bar, their voices low even as laughter rose around them. A handful of Academy-bound youths sat together near the hearth, cloaks too clean, eyes sharp with expectation.

  Ellowen and Perrin took a table near the wall and ordered stew and bread. They did not need to ask what people were talking about. The inn was rowdy enough, even it was only midday.

  “The entrance ceremony starts soon,” a merchant said, gesturing with his cup. “A few weeks. The city will be unbearable.”

  “They always say the trials are different,” replied a woman, her tone dry. “More control. Less spectacle.”

  “And it never makes a difference,” someone else said. “They still let in anyone who has enough coin.”

  At the next table, two guards leaned together over their ale.

  “They confirmed Legendary classes this year,” one said. “Publicly.”

  That caught attention immediately.

  “How many,” a voice asked.

  “At least two,” the guard replied. “That they are willing to name.”

  The second guard snorted. “There is always another one they pretend not to see yet.”

  Speculation spread quickly.

  “Elemental,” someone offered. “Lightning, from what I heard. Supposedly from the North.”

  “No,” another countered. “Frost. Something old.”

  “A summoner,” a third voice added more quietly. “system-bound. That kind never ends cleanly.”

  Ellowen ate slowly, listening without appearing to. The mana in the room shifted with every rumor, tightening as anticipation built.

  Perrin leaned back slightly, eyes on the crowd. “Legendary classes make people uneasy,” he said. “They remind everyone how thin the line is between talent and disaster.”

  Ellowen glanced toward the door, toward the road beyond the walls where the children waited.

  “That is why people talk about them,” he replied. “It is safer than talking about what happens when they arrive.”

  The gossip started increasing when the academy was brought up,

  “They say this year is special,” a merchant near the bar was saying, voice pitched to carry, “three Legendary classes are entering the Academy at once.”

  Three. Ellowen noted the low murmur that followed. If only they knew the true number. Only once in recorded history had the Academy ever admitted more than three at the same time. Twice, some scholars whispered, but only in dusty records and rumors. Legendary classes were rare, almost mythical, their existence usually whispered in the same breath as the city founders or the first Wars of Mana. One per year was already considered extraordinary.

  It seems only Ellowen and Perrin knew the true number hear, and the potential ruin it could bring.

  “They always brag about Legendary classes,” said a guard, leaning on his mug. “Makes the novices dream bigger than they ought to. One of them shows up and the entire city forgets how to sleep for a week.”

  “And now three,” a young traveler said, eyes wide. “How do they even manage that? Aren’t they… impossible?”

  “Impossible,” the older adventurer corrected. “That is the point. That is why they are Legendary. Rarity alone is what makes them dangerous and remarkable. Most do not survive the trials long enough to even be recorded. Those that do… they shape history.”

  A woman with layered robes leaned forward. “I have heard what the three are supposed to be. One is a Healer. An anomaly though, she received it during her ascension but it falls outside the System Priests jurisdiction. Healers and Priests have similar skills but the System Priests have been declining ever since the corruption was defeated so many years ago, it was a big blow to the System Priests I heard.”

  The merchant snorted. “That is insane. A Legendary Healer who does not answer to the Priests?”

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  Some old drunkard yelled out, “What the hell is the difference between a System Priest and Healer anyway!”

  The woman said. “Nothing too much, while anyone can wield a Healer class if the system deems them fit, a System Priest undergoes a second ascension held by the System itself. From what people say, when a healer class undergoes their first ascension, the system asks if it would like to convert to a system priest. They are the reason why we can undergo the ascension ceremony so smoothly.”

  The old man asked another question while throwing a coin on the counter for another drink, “So what? They are just glorified healers that are only useful once a year?”

  “Well, they have been around since the start of the system, some say they hold knowledge of what Silara was like before the System. Nonetheless, the only difference between a System Priest and a system classed healer is the fact the System Priest can interact with the System in their own weird ways, and regular healers cant. Oh, and they lose their eyesight as payment for their new class and ability to somewhat interact with the system.”

  “Fuck that! They lose their eyeballs? Bloody gods.” The old man knocked back his new drink.

  “And the second?” asked someone in chain leaning back on his stool.

  “A Tank,” the adventurer said, voice low. “Not much has leaked about him, he is from the far west.. Apart of the travelling clans.”

  The inn fell quiet for a moment, everyone picturing it. The fire crackled. Footsteps creaked along the floor.

  “And the third,” the robed woman said, leaning closer, “is… difficult to describe.”

  The crowd leaned in.

  “Wielding both lightning and Frost alike, some northern barbarian went and received a legendary class never recorded before, at least that we know of..”

  Ellowen lifted a brow, noting the careful whispers around him. Perrin shook his head lightly.

  “That would make it terrifying,” someone said. “And the Academy lets it in?”

  “They do,” the robed woman replied. “Because even the System fears what they cannot observe. They cannot ignore it. A true Legendary class that bends observation itself. It is why three have been allowed in simultaneously. The last time this many arrived, the city spent the year in near-panic. This will be the second highest number of Legendary entrants in recorded history.”

  “They say the first was over several hundred years ago,” the merchant added. “Two were Scholars and a Summoner. Entire trade routes changed hands. Wars almost began. People still whisper about how it shaped territories..”

  “Three now,” the younger traveler repeated, eyes bright with awe. “A Healer, a Tank, and… a Storm.”

  “And every inn from here to the Academy will have someone speculating what each of them will do,” the adventurer said with a low laugh. “And you will find it is all wrong, because no one truly knows until the wards snap open and they are in the courtyard.”

  Ellowen sipped his stew slowly, listening, noting how fear, excitement, and hope twisted through the words in the room. Perrin followed quietly, catching snippets of mana signatures from careless apprentices, guards, and merchants.

  “It is remarkable,” Perrin murmured, “how much panic these children can create in a city.”

  Ellowen nodded. “Rarity makes them stories before they even begin. The city remembers the story long before it remembers the person. Still, they have to survive long enough to be a true threat to anything dangerous, now they are just younglings. It seems most forget we have Demi-gods still walking among us.”

  From the other side of the room, laughter erupted over a minor dispute about which Legendary class would survive the Academy’s trials intact. Arguments began in hushed tones and rose quickly, weaving through tables. Some claimed the Healer would outlast all the others, others insisted the Tank could endure anything, and a few whispered nervously that the Storm class might undo the entire evaluation before it even started.

  Outside, the children remained safe under the watch of the guards. They had no knowledge of the rumors flying ahead of them. The mana of the city pressed in around Ellowen and Perrin, thick with wards, enchantments, and anticipation, echoing the gossip in the room, giving weight to stories that would only be tested in three days’ time.

  By the time the stew was gone, and mugs were empty, the conversations had evolved into debate over who might ally with whom, who would be the first to falter, and whether the Academy would adapt its defenses mid-ceremony to compensate for the three newcomers. The murmurs of “Legendary” and “second most in history” echoed through the rafters as if the inn itself remembered past events and whispered them back to every traveler within.

  Perrin rose to stretch, glancing at Ellowen. “Time has been too soft for too long, seems everyone forgets what happened the last time such a powerful ascended class arose. The corruption started when the last batch of Legendary classes arrived, and there were five or them. This year.. Almost double.”

  Ellowen folded his hands on the table, eyes scanning the room one last time. “Yeah.. something horrible is coming, its up to people like you and me to help these seeds grow into a flower that can protect our realm.”

  _________________________________

  By late afternoon, the sun had begun its slow descent, painting the distant rocks and forest edges in gold and deepening amber. The camp where Lance, Aoife, and Slade remained under guard had settled into a rhythm once more. The morning sparring had drawn to a natural close. Slade rolled his shoulders and allowed the last guard to stumble back, a mock groan escaping him as he straightened. Aoife collected her spear quietly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, while Lance had spent the last hour observing, noting the subtleties of how the guards shifted their weight and moved with comfort after hours of tension.

  “Good enough,” the scarred guard said finally, leaning against his shield with a faint smile. “You all kept your heads. That’s more than most novices manage when they start bouncing off nerves instead of attacks.”

  Slade grinned, the weight of his shield feeling lighter now. “And we didn’t break anyone, so I count that as a win.”

  Aoife rolled her eyes at him but allowed a small smirk. “Only because you’re predictable,” she said, tucking her spear in the corner. “Next time, I’m going to see how easily you lose patience.”

  The sun was low now, spilling streaks of orange and violet across the camp. The shadows lengthened in the hollows of the ruins, and the forest edge that had unnerved them the night before softened into the familiar shapes of trees and stone. Even the guards began to relax, voices carrying lightly as they prepared the evening meal.

  Lance finally stretched fully, sitting cross-legged on the worn ground. “Feels different when you’ve kept busy all day,” he muttered. His eyes flicked toward the edge of the camp road. The horizon glowed with the last of the sunlight, and for a moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to see the city walls of Darkhollow again, though he knew the children would remain here a little longer, under the watch of the scarred guard.

  The soft crunch of hooves on gravel caught his attention. He turned instinctively, squinting toward the gate road where a pair of figures emerged from the fading light. Cloaks trailed slightly behind them, and the familiar glint of coin pouches and concealed items marked them immediately. Ellowen and Perrin were returning.

  “They’re back,” Aoife said softly, eyes narrowing with alert curiosity. She rose, dusting off her knees, while Slade adjusted the strap of his shield. Lance, heart quickening, rose as well, standing beside them.

  Ellowen’s cloak swayed lightly with each step. He carried the gifts with careful precision: a small case containing the pendant, the clasp, and the concealment bracelets. Perrin followed, lighter in step but scanning the perimeter as always, his eyes catching the subtle movements of leaves and brush. The sun set behind them, bathing the figures in warm light that contrasted with the creeping shadows of the trees.

  The scarred guard stepped forward, voice steady. “Evening. You’re just in time for the last light.”

  “Good,” Ellowen said, lowering the case to the ground carefully. “We have what you’ll need.” His eyes met Lance’s first, lingering with that quiet weight that seemed to contain everything from history to warning. Perrin crouched slightly to set the items down, checking the seals and bindings for stability, then looked up. “No one else touches these until they’re on the kids. They’re delicate and meant to last the journey, not to show off.”

  Ellowen clapped his hands, “Now! Who wants to go first.”