Chapter 93: The World Whispers
The morning light filtered through the slanted wooden shutters of the Shattered Tooth's upper room, but Isaac was already awake.
He sat by the small desk, fingers idly tracing a map of Velkarth's inner districts when Renall knocked softly and stepped in without waiting.
He closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and exhaled. "We need to talk. Privately."
Isaac didn't look up. "What kind of 'talk'?"
"The kind where someone starts asking questions," Renall said grimly. "Quietly. Carefully. But with weight."
Isaac raised an eyebrow.
"Not just the guild," Renall added. "A few… people with crests. A few with masks. They're trying to figure out what ruin you came from. If you really walked out of the basin untouched."
Isaac leaned back in his chair. "And you told them?"
"That I was paid to transport a sword nerd who asked too many questions and vanished for two days."
"Accurate."
Renall folded his arms. "This isn't going to fade, Isaac. You're a whisper now. If you're not careful, you'll become a myth. And myths attract all kinds of people."
Isaac didn't respond.
He didn't have to.
He already knew.
Later that afternoon, Isaac and Lira slipped into the market district under long coats and quiet steps. The plan was simple: restock supplies, pick up Lira's new boot plating, maybe grab a few enchantment tags. Nothing flashy.
The market was alive with noise—barkers shouting, hammers clanging, spices in the air. Isaac moved with the quiet rhythm of someone used to being unnoticed.
But that time was over.
"Oi."
The voice came from across the plaza.
A tall man in reinforced violet-gray armor stepped into their path, flanked by two lesser-ranked allies who kept just enough distance to avoid implication. His arms were bare to the shoulder, muscles taut with enchantment lines. A twin-crest badge gleamed on his belt—guild-marked.
A-rank.
Lira stiffened beside Isaac.
"Name's Jerrek," the man said, stopping ten paces away. "Heard a story about a ruin ghost who came back from the dead, conjured blades from thin air, and walked out of the basin like it was a picnic."
Isaac met his gaze evenly. "I prefer 'efficient survivor.' Less dramatic."
"Maybe," Jerrek said. "Or maybe you're hiding something dangerous. Which means I've got two choices—report you, or test you."
A crowd was forming. Low murmurs. Too many watching eyes.
Lira hissed, "Not here."
Isaac stepped forward, calm.
"Fine," he said. "You want a test?"
He didn't draw a weapon.
Didn't raise a spell.
He raised one hand slowly—then clenched it.
[Telekinesis – Rank A]
The nearby crates shook. Dust lifted. A ripple of force knocked Jerrek half a step back.
Then Isaac took a step closer.
Jerrek shifted his weight, bracing—but Isaac's hand moved like a flicker of thought, and a conjured phantom sword blinked into the air, floating an inch from Jerrek's eye.
It didn't strike.
It hovered.
Silent. Patient.
Then it reversed—spinning once in a blur and carving a single clean line through Jerrek's vambrace.
A perfect cut. Not deep. Not fatal.
Just enough.
Jerrek stared at the line.
Then at Isaac.
Isaac's voice was calm.
"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have known where the blade came from."
The floating sword vanished.
Jerrek's hand twitched—but he didn't reach for his weapon.
He turned and walked away.
The crowd parted.
Isaac exhaled slowly.
Beside him, Lira muttered, "You controlled that. Perfectly."
"I had to," Isaac said. "If I miscalculated… that cut would've split him down the middle."
She glanced around. "They're going to keep coming, aren't they?"
Isaac nodded once. "Curiosity. Fear. Power plays. They'll come."
He looked up toward the skyline, toward the glint of towers beyond the noble quarter.
There was one person who had watched him without fear.
One person who offered no collar, no demand—only understanding.
Sylvalen Thalara.
He didn't know why he thought of her now.
Maybe it was because she'd seen through him without seeing everything.
Maybe it was because she'd warned him this would happen.
Or maybe it was because, despite everything… she might be the only one in this city who wouldn't try to own him.
Isaac turned away from the plaza and pulled his hood higher.
"I think it's time I took her up on that offer."