Sinatro
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Chapter 102 (Bk 2). A New Pantheon
🕑 Added 2025-06-19 15:00:09 +0000 UTCA/N: Well, we are deep in the fun and games act now. Just wanted to say, enjoy these low stakes chapters for a bit. We are very close to the midpoint of this volume and thus, fair warning, there might be some misery porn in the near future. Enjoy the fun while it lasts. Cheers.
Rafe could suddenly feel everything. The concentration potion was no longer in his system. And he could feel his soul and body burning.
And there was the strange way essence was flowing to him from around the camp, but he couldn't spare any worry for that now. First off the essence was disappearing into a part of his soul he could not even see.
People crowded around him. He saw Helare struggling with Filoria for some reason. What could they be possibly fighting about? And who was the strange old man next to them?
Rafe understood Helare and Filoria and the other Ma'la in the crowd could not help because of his insight into liquid metal, but what of the Burned youths captives who were in the crowd as well? They were more inclined to watch than help. Rafe had never taken the time to get to know any of them, now that he thought about it.
He was sure even the demons could have helped.
Maybe they could have been forced to help? Helare could have commanded them, and they'd probably do it. She was the princess. They had already shown their devotion to her, although both she and Rafe had been confused by it. Had she not thought to use them? Or maybe…could it be— she didn't want to help Rafe?
Whatever the reason was, Rafe was on his own. He hadn't needed to turn to see the crowd around him. His first racial ability was unrestrained, as he did not have the mental energy to spare on restraining it.
The insights were taking everything in his reserves. Soon they would not have enough. He didn't know if his life force was in danger, but he would rather not find out.
Theoretically, knocking himself out was the easiest and safest option, but how was he going to do that? He was not in control of his body. The insights were.
One of his hands held the blade in place, the other incessantly rising and falling, folded around the butt of his smithing hammer. The rhythmic thumping of his hammer's falls kept getting louder, more violent. His insights were taking on a life of their own. Too much mental energy was being guzzled down like water from an endless well. But this well was clearly not endless.
What would happen when his reserves of mental energy were fully consumed? He did not know. He did not know and he was starting to panic.
‘Calm down, child,’ a feminine voice said. And Rafe saw the dust around him, the one he'd been stirring all along, start to move with an obvious and artificial pattern.
He couldn't turn his attention to it, but Rafe was sure there was a person there.
‘Ding’ World Quest received.
Objective: Calm down, child.
Rewards: Pantheon's intervention.
Rafe wanted to curse, but there was no need. He already knew of the existence of this pantheon that was giving him world quests. The quests appeared pointless and very direct and easy. They wanted him to succeed in the objectives effortlessly. It was like they were preparing him for something.
After he had learned of the planet's history, he had done nothing with the knowledge. He'd lost all curiosity in regards to the planet. He was going to be leaving soon, had thought. Now a suspicion was building up in him.
This pantheon he hadn't met. The system. The system had already failed to transport him home on three separate occasions. And this pantheon seemed to need him for some task sometime in the future. Why else would they be trying to help him?
‘I didn't think that would be such a hard instruction to follow,’ the dust pulsed again. ‘His soul is still intact. It is not yet too late. No injuries that cannot be healed with time. Maybe a few months.’
‘How many is a few? We don't have too many months, you know,’ a familiar, masculine voice said, but Rafe was unsure when and where he'd heard it before.
‘So now you believe our plan will work, do you?’ the feminine voice snapped.
‘It is the only one we have, isn't it?’
“Focus!” Rafe found himself interrupting.
His life was on the line. Trust these strange voices, he did not, but he did not wish to die. As long as he was alive, he could find another way home. He was going back to Earth somehow. As long as he lived. He needed to live.
‘Then calm yourself, kid,’ the masculine voice stated.
Rafe took a breath. The fumes from his forging mixed with the fumes of his evaporating blood, creating a unique experience for his newly returned sense of smell. Rafe found himself hacking and coughing for a bit, and then he leaned forward and released more sour liquids mixed with blood and something solid on this occasion. He could not start to guess what it was. He did not want to guess what it was. Was it a piece of his stomach?
He tried to calm down. The pain made it a challenge, but the challenge was one he could handle. He listened to the thumping of his hammer on the somehow still intact and regular looking blade. He felt the rise and fall of his arm, the movements of his muscles. He let his nostrils flair as he took another deep breath, and this time the pungent fumes did not surprise him.
‘Ding’ World Quest completed.
He wondered how the pantheon planned to intervene. They had shown a knack for interacting with his system, so maybe the system needed their help to interact with his insights or something. After all, he had given the system access to his insights.
He had other theories as well, but he was sure the system and these beings had some sort of connection. Therefore the best way for them to intervene was to try and influence his insights and—
But that was only wishful thinking.
‘Say good night, buddy!’ said the masculine voice which still sounded familiar.
Rafe started to panic, realizing the guy's voice sounded excited and a little threatening.
He saw the fiery fist too late. He remembered where he'd heard the man's voice, but his head was being pummeled into the ground, so it was too late to say ‘ha, got you!’
****
[Human- Blacksmith lvl.69]
“Are you sure, Hestus?” Helare asked for the second time in as many hours.
“Yes,” the gnome merchant said. “It was an inspiration based absorption of Essence, it was. All the metals on the premises lost a lot of their properties. Most of the enchanted swords are barely fit for anyone above level ten now.”
“So you think…what exactly? What does it matter that he didn't level up at all?” Helare asked.
She couldn't take her eyes off the unconscious boy. He hadn't had a shirt on, as usual. His bulky pants had not been destroyed by his soul fires. And his body was once more just a little warm to the touch. He felt like any normal living being. He felt like a boy.
Helare threw the dump cloth she'd used to wipe him down. Someone scurried over and carried it away. She held out her hand and a clean and dry cloth appeared as if from thin air. With a simple activation of her mana, the cloth was wet and cold, and she was once again wiping down on the unconscious boy.
She had no idea how he had ended up this way, but she cared not a bit for it. He had survived, and that was all that mattered. He had survived and she hadn't lost her mind the way she had thought she was going to.
For the first time she could remember, Helare had been seized with the need to run. To run and do nothing else. She had no ability to think. In that moment, she had neither ability nor wish to think. If Filoria hadn't stopped her…
Well, perhaps the E-grades, Collab inclusive, would have been able to stop her. There was a rule against people wantonly putting their hands on members of the royal family, but if it was to save her life… Besides, it wasn't like her father would glance twice at any reports concerning her.
The situation, dangerous as it had grown, could never have harmed her. There were no consequences to her losing her mind for a few moments. Except maybe losing a little face, but what was that in the grand scheme of things anyway.
There was a seed of change in her heart. Just a seed and in no way near germination, but Helare could sense it. She didn't think she cared about the throne as much as she had a few weeks prior.
“He was already suspicious before,” Hestus said urgently, reminding Helare of the conversation she had been a part of. “Now, with this, there is just too many things that don't add up. We may have to—”
“I don't care,” she said slowly, yet the merchant still shut up.
She felt his eyes on her. She felt his judgement, but she would not yield on this. She kept scrubbing, although she did it softly enough to ensure he wasn't uncomfortable. The new cloth got dirty, so she threw it out and lifted her hand to demand a clean one.
This one she did not wet with her power, instead using it to dry Rafael.
“... what?” the merchant asked, his voice dripping incomprehension.
“I don't care,” Helare said again, and those words freed something.
She hadn't known, still didn't know really, what was happening inside her. Still, she had a realization at that moment. She didn't care. About her father, her family, life in the capital. She didn't care a whit about any of it.
It wasn't even Rafael's fault really. Why else had she accepted this mission that was a soft exile route? She had been tired of it. She had been tired a long time. Tired of what? She couldn't say for sure.
“I don't care,”she said a third time. “I don't care about his secrets. Let him keep them. I don't care where he is going. I'll go with him anyway.”
“...what?” Hestus said again and Helare chuckled at how she'd broken her tiny merchant.
She took a deep breath. Breathing had never felt so liberating. Or maybe it was Rafael's still barely there musk? Still, for the first time in a long time, Helare Clearsea felt free.
“Well, the blade he was working on…”
“Yes, what is wrong with the blade, Hestus?” Helare asked with a frown.
“No one can seem to carry it from the forge.”
“Huh? Why? Don't we need to enchant it and sell it?”
“I don't think any of our enchanters could make anything better. Anyway, none of the Ma’la can touch it, and the Burned and demon captives are too weak as they are still F grades,” Hestus answered.
“Are you saying the sword cannot be used by F grades?” Helare asked with a raised brow, but her heart wasn't in it.
“It can. By peak F grades at least. Or if their insights match. Otherwise, well… On the plus side, it looks like a really expensive blade in the making.”
“Fine then,” Helare said. “We'll wait and see what Rafael wants to do with it.”
“What?!” Hestus sputtered. “But, but… Your highness?”
“Anything else? No? Good. You may leave.”
