The night was quiet, with only the distant hum of the town breaking the stillness. Wrapped in the long, hooded robes that Uncle James had procured, Nile and James descended the stairs, their steps measured and deliberate. The fabric was thick and flowing, designed to obscure their forms entirely. Normally, Nile's shorter stature would have been a dead giveaway, but he had taken extra precautions.
Within the cover of his robe, he manipulated his sphere, forming a subtle, enveloping around his body. By carefully adjusting his center of gravity and applying slight levitation, he altered his apparent height, making himself appear almost identical to James in stature. To any onlooker, the two hooded figures seemed nearly the same in build—an intentional deception.
As they moved through the dimly lit corridors, they could hear the faint murmur of voices from the reception hall. The inn was alive with activity—Jennifer at her usual post, Rony and Maya seated nearby, and Sid and his friends engaged in light conversation. The atmosphere was casual, but as soon as Nile and James entered the hall, the energy shifted.
Lars, now dressed in the standard worker uniform of the inn, noticed them first. His eyes narrowed as he quickly stepped forward, blocking their path.
"Who are you guys?" he demanded, his tone firm but cautious. His gaze flickered toward Jennifer and then back to the two cloaked figures. "And when did you come into the inn? According to the reception ledger, there are no guests on the second floor apart from Nile and his group."
His words carried a newfound confidence, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor when he had been just another troublemaking youth. Now, in his new role, he was taking his responsibilities seriously, and Nile found himself quietly impressed.
James, ever the quick thinker, altered his voice, making it lower and more commanding. "Little worker, mind your own business. We are staying on the fourth floor."
There was an edge to his tone, an authoritative weight that made Lars instinctively straighten. But before he could respond further, Jennifer smoothly stepped in, her expression calm and composed.
"Lars, don't worry," she said, standing from behind the reception desk. "These two are guardians sent by an organization I sought protection from. The Obsidian Pact."
At the mention of the name, a hush fell over the room.
Jennifer continued, her voice carrying the weight of authority. "I was fed up with the constant bullying from the three gangs, so I reached out to them for protection and cooperation. Treat them as our most important guests."
Sid, who had been watching the exchange, reacted immediately. His body tensed, and in an instant, he moved, pulling Lars slightly behind him. Dain, equally alarmed, stepped up beside them, his posture guarded.
Then, to everyone's surprise, Sid bowed his upper body deeply. "We are sorry, seniors," he said with uncharacteristic humility. "We are new to this job, and I hope you can forgive our mistakes."
Dain and Lars quickly followed suit, bowing as well, their earlier suspicion replaced with respect.
Nile, hidden beneath his robe, watched in silence. He had known Sid as a proud and arrogant young master, someone who once held himself above others. But now, that arrogance was gone. What remained was a young man who not only acknowledged his mistakes but also valued his friends enough to stand up for them. Lars and Dain, too, had changed. They hadn't abandoned Sid when he had fallen from grace—they stood beside him, learning and growing together.
James gave a short nod, his voice neutral. "Do your work properly."
With that, he walked past the three, not stopping to acknowledge them further. Nile followed closely behind, ensuring his movements remained in sync with James to maintain the illusion of their identical stature.
As the two figures stepped out of the inn and into the cool night air, a collective sigh of relief escaped from Sid, Lars, and Dain.
Lars exhaled heavily. "That was nerve-wracking."
Sid ran a hand through his hair. "Tell me about it. I thought for a second we were going to get kicked out of the inn for questioning them."
Dain smirked. "Or worse. Did you hear that voice? That wasn't just some average traveler."
Jennifer, watching from the reception desk, smiled knowingly but said nothing. The seeds of the Obsidian Pact's legend were being sown, and tonight was just the beginning.
As Nile and Uncle James stepped out of the inn, the crisp night air carried the scent of distant food stalls and the faint hum of a city never truly at rest. Just as they reached the entrance gate, two figures approached—a frail elderly woman with silver-streaked hair and a dignified air, alongside a middle-aged man dressed in finely embroidered robes.
Nile's gaze instinctively shifted to the insignia stitched onto the man's attire—a pool of water encircling an open book. His mind quickly pieced together the meaning. A teacher from the town school… under the Protectorate of Awakening and Circulation.
He glanced at Maya's grandmother, who walked beside the man with an expression of quiet composure. So he must have come to oversee the training session for Jessica, Maya, Rony, and Sid in the Level 3 cultivation room, Nile deduced, recalling the reservation made by the Protectorate earlier.
Yet, before his curiosity could lead him into deeper thought, James subtly nudged him forward. "Come."
Without another word, James led Nile away from the cultivation market, their path veering into unfamiliar territory. As they moved through the streets, Nile noticed a change in their surroundings. The lively glow of the cultivation district faded, replaced by dimly lit alleys and streets lined with civilian shops.
However, something was off.
Though the market was officially closed, the iron gates of the shops were strangely ajar. Inside each storefront, a shopkeeper or worker sat idly, as if waiting for something—or someone.
A flicker of confusion crossed Nile's face. Why are all the shops open if the market is closed?
James didn't offer any explanations. He simply stepped into one of the open shops.
As they entered, the worker inside immediately stood up, greeting them with a polite smile. "What would you like, sir?"
Nile hesitated. His eyes darted to the door behind them, where a wooden board still hung, clearly marked: Closed.
Then why…?
James remained silent for a full thirty seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, in a low, measured tone, he uttered two words:
"Black Market."