The smell wasn't just bad; it was wrong. Like the cell itself was alive and rotting, every breath clawing its way into my lungs. I held out my hands without thinking, wishing the stench would vanish. A stupid, desperate gesture, but something happened.
The air shifted, subtle and sharp, like the moment before a storm breaks. In front of me, the black tar that had oozed from my body lifted, forming a glistening, translucent bubble.
"What the…?"
I stared at it, moving my hand instinctively. The bubble followed, floating lazily in the air. The stench that had made my stomach churn? Gone. Trapped inside the bubble.
I rolled my fingers into a fist, curious. The bubble shrank in response, compressing smaller and smaller until, with a faint pop, it vanished entirely. The filth disappeared with it, like it had never been there at all.
I glanced down at my hand, and my breath caught. The mark of my emblem shimmered faintly, its color no longer the dull copper I'd been stuck with.
Iron.
A grin spread across my face. Finally.
I pulled up my [Appraisal], eager to see what the rank-up had given me. The screen flickered to life, my stats scrolling past. Strength, agility, endurance—everything had jumped. But the real prizes were the new skills, two of them:
[True Sight] and [Construct].
I couldn't help but feel a thrill. True Sight. That alone was worth a celebration. My old party would've killed for something like this.
I activated it, curious.
The world around me shifted instantly. The prison walls dimmed to a pale outline, their solidity an illusion overlaid with shimmering lines of magic. A warding barrier, designed to shock anyone who so much as touched the locks. Figures appeared beyond the walls—flickering auras of life. Most were faint, barely more than embers.
Except one.
A fiery presence burned brightly, pulsing with controlled intensity. Not just alive—dangerous.
The door creaked, snapping me out of my focus.
I blinked, letting True Sight fade, and saw the old man standing there, flanked by two guards. His expression was grim but composed.
I gave him a smile, baring teeth. "You here to apologize, or just adding to my list of grievances?"
He sighed, nodding to the guards. One of them stepped forward to unlock the cell door, the key rattling in the rusty lock.
The moment they entered and reached for my cuffs, I stood, snapping the iron restraints with a flick of my wrists. The shattered pieces clattered to the floor.
The old man's brow lifted slightly, the first crack in his composure.
"Gotten stronger, have you?" he asked, his voice calm but pointed.
I shrugged. "Well, after being left to rot for a day—after saving your kids, no less—I figured I'd use the time wisely." I crossed my arms, tilting my head. "They are your kids, right?"
He waved the guards off, gesturing for them to leave. They hesitated, but a sharp look sent them scurrying.
When we were alone, he turned back to me, his expression softening slightly. "They are," he said, his voice quieter now. "And for that, I owe you an apology."
I didn't reply immediately, watching him carefully. His tone was genuine, but I'd met enough smooth-talking nobles in my last life to know better than to trust easily.
He smiled faintly. "You've been through a transformation, haven't you?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Good eyes."
The banter was interrupted as he pulled off his gloves and extended a hand. "Allow me to make amends properly."
I hesitated, then clasped his hand. The grip tightened instantly, his strength pressing against mine. I matched it instinctively, refusing to back down.
The corner of his mouth quirked up. "Just confirming something."
"Hell of a handshake, old man," I muttered, releasing his hand.
He chuckled, flexing his fingers. "Alexander. Or Alex, if you prefer."
The name hit me like a slap. My breath caught, a flicker of sweat running down my brow. I glanced at his right hand, now gloved again, and the faintest tremor ran through me.
I activated [Appraisal], keeping my expression neutral. His title and a fragment of his stats appeared, enough to confirm my suspicions.
This was him.
He noticed my hesitation, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Something wrong?"
I forced a nervous laugh, waving it off. "Nothing. Just… processing everything."
He nodded, satisfied. "You're free to go. And to make up for the misunderstanding, I'll grant you three wishes—within reason, of course."
I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Just like that?"
Alexander's smile widened. "Consider it reparations for treating my children's benefactor so poorly."
I considered it for a moment, then sighed. "Alright. First, I want a place to stay for two weeks, free of charge."
"Done."
"Second, I want money. Ten silver should do."
He nodded. "Reasonable."
I hesitated, grinning as an idea struck. "Third… I want to fight you every morning."
His eyebrows shot up, but he didn't laugh. Instead, his smile turned almost predatory. "Interesting. Alright. I accept."
This was going to be fun. And maybe, just maybe, I'd get the answers I needed.