"Is this a bad time?"
Adom looked up to find Yann standing beside the table, eyebrows raised as he surveyed the chaos—spilled tea, abandoned pastry, and Adom holding a squirming, chipmunk-cheeked quillick at eye level.
"He's going to choke himself on candied peanuts," Adom explained, as if this were a perfectly normal explanation for the scene.
Yann's lips twitched. "I see. And here I thought you were just enthusiastically bonding with your new familiar."
"He's not my familiar," Adom corrected automatically, still maintaining his grip on the struggling Zuni. "He's just a class project."
"Mm-hmm," Yann replied, sliding into the seat across from Adom. "A very successful project, judging by his willingness to die for your candied peanuts."
"And then the dungeon happened." Yann's expression hardened. "No help during a ganker attack? In a beginner dungeon? That doesn't just happen, Adom."
"You think someone set us up too, huh?"
"I think," Yann said slowly, "that the coincidence is too convenient to ignore. Gankers ambushing third-year students in what should have been a safe training environment? And no response team arriving despite multiple distress signals?"
"Sabotage," Adom murmured.
"Exactly. Which is why I decided to stay a bit longer than your father originally asked. I wanted to tell you about his involvement so you wouldn't find my continued presence suspicious."
"You want to investigate," Adom said. It wasn't a question.
"Someone has to," Yann replied. "And if I'm right, you're still in danger."
Adom stared at the ceiling for a moment, considering. His father might not have had time to send a letter about Yann before he left for the Academy, but it was unusual for him to leave out such a detail. Still, jumping to conclusions wouldn't help.
I'll send a letter to him through Bob, Adom thought finally.
Zuni stirred from his sugar-induced nap, struggling to his feet with visible effort. His distended cheeks wobbled as he attempted to climb Adom's sleeve.
"So what exactly do you want to do now?" Adom asked, gently depositing the quillick back on the table. "Stay with the party? Keep investigating?"
Yann traced the rim of his teacup with one finger. "Well, I owe your father a favor. I'll stay and help however I can." His expression softened unexpectedly. "And Arkhos is... nicer than I anticipated."
He gazed out the window at the bustling street. "I could see myself setting up a small restaurant here. Something simple but elegant. Maybe find someone to settle down with, start a family..."
Yann's voice trailed off, his eyes taking on a distant look.
Adom regarded him with the skeptical squint of an old man who'd heard too many wild schemes in his lifetime. It was the same look he'd perfected in his previous life when hearing yet another "foolproof" investment pitch.
Yann caught the expression and cleared his throat. "Anyway. Yes, I intend to stay with the party. We should investigate who might be targeting you—possibly someone supporting the Prince?"
"And I should report this to the Academy," Adom added.
"Exactly. Though carefully. Until we know who's involved..."
"Trust no one. Yeah, that was already the plan." Adom sighed. "This is going to complicate things."
"Better complicated than dead," Yann pointed out.
Adom couldn't argue with that logic.
They moved on to lighter topics after that and after finishing their tea and settling the bill, they stood to leave. Zuni, recovering from his sugar binge, looked marginally more alert but still moved with the sluggishness of someone deeply regretting their life choices.
"Ugh, come on," Adom said, scooping up the quillick.
"Want me to take a look at him?" Yann offered.
"Oh, he'll be fine. A hard lesson learned." Adom tucked Zuni into his robe pocket, where the creature immediately curled into a spiny ball.
"Until next time, then, I'll send you a raven." Yann said with a nod.
Outside the teahouse, Adom stretched his arms overhead, feeling tension leave his shoulders as joints popped. Zuni stirred in his pocket, still groggy from his sugar binge.
"Making enemies isn't exactly surprising," Adom muttered to himself as he set off down the street. "Comes with the territory of helping arrest a prince."
A group of students passed by, their Academy uniforms pristine compared to his slightly rumpled appearance. They nodded politely, probably recognizing him.
The trial couldn't come soon enough. Once Kalyon was judged, Adom might finally get some clarity on who exactly he needed to attack for Dragon's Breath. The waiting was the worst part—knowing someone was working on the weapon without knowing exactly how many.
He needed to get ready to face them when the time came.
Adom paused at an intersection, a sudden thought striking him. Speaking of getting ready—what about Mr. Biggins? Had he and the others returned?
He changed course, heading toward the Weird Stuff store instead of the Academy. The detour would add twenty minutes to his walk, but curiosity won out over practicality.
The storefront appeared—slightly crooked sign, windows packed with odd trinkets that seemed to shift positions when you weren't looking directly at them. The three cats that served as unofficial store guardians lounged on the front steps, soaking up patches of late afternoon sunlight.
Adom waved at them as he approached. The orange tabby lifted its head and meowed lazily. The black one didn't bother opening its eyes, while a gray one with a torn ear stood and stretched dramatically, as if Adom's arrival was the perfect excuse for a comprehensive repositioning.
The bell over the door jingled as he entered. The store seemed different somehow—new items on shelves, different arrangements, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed.
"Hello?" he called out. "Mr. Biggins?"
A rustling sound came from behind the counter, followed by the appearance of a hat. Mr. Biggins' spectacles caught the light as he straightened up, his face breaking into a delighted smile.
"Oh! Young Adom!" he exclaimed, hurrying around the counter with surprising speed. "How marvelous! I was just thinking I needed to send for you, and here you appear, almost as if summoned!"
He clapped his hands together. "Hohoho! Fortuitous timing indeed! I have the most extraordinary things to show you, my boy."
"Welcome back," Adom said, watching Mr. Biggins flit around like an oversized hummingbird. Nobody would believe this was dragon. "Your expedition was successful, I take it?"
Mr. Biggins placed a warm hand on Adom's shoulder, his expression turning suddenly serious. "The Order is getting back on its feet now that you've appeared, my boy. It means recruiting a few more individuals, establishing new connections." His voice dropped to a near whisper. "Dangerous times require trustworthy allies."
"What did you want to show me?" Adom asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something concrete.
Mr. Biggins froze mid-gesture. His eyes narrowed behind his spectacles, focusing on Adom with sudden intensity. The shift was... jarring. The old dragon leaned in closer, head tilted at an inquisitive angle.
"What's this?" he asked, eyes fixed on the lump in Adom's pocket. "A guest?"
Adom pulled the pocket open slightly, revealing Zuni's drowsy form. "School project. He's sleeping off a sugar high."
"A quillick. Fascinating." Mr. Biggins wasn't looking at Zuni anymore, though. His gaze had moved to Adom's face, then down to his hands, studying him with unsettling thoroughness. "Hmm. How very curious."
"What?" Adom took an instinctive step back. "What are you talking about?"
Instead of answering, Mr. Biggins beckoned with one finger. "Come, my boy. Backroom. Now."
Before Adom could protest, the shopkeeper had already turned and was heading toward the curtained doorway behind the counter.
Curiosity was a powerful force. With a sigh, Adom followed.
Mr. Biggins stood before what appeared to be a blank wall. His fingers traced a complex pattern on the wooden paneling, leaving faint blue lines that faded almost as soon as they appeared. A series of runes briefly flashed across the surface before the entire wall shimmered and dissolved, revealing a passage.
"After you," Mr. Biggins said with a theatrical sweep of his arm.
This was Adom's third time entering this hidden space, but the sight still impressed him. The room beyond was massive—easily ten times larger than the entire shop—with bookshelves stretching to a ceiling so high it disappeared into shadows. Artifacts of all descriptions sat on display pedestals. A massive table dominated the center, covered with maps, scrolls, and what appeared to be astronomical charts.
"Sit," Mr. Biggins instructed, pointing to a chair beside the table. "I need to verify something."
Adom sat, unease growing. "Verify what, exactly?"
Instead of answering Adom's question, Mr. Biggins stepped forward and placed a hand on Adom's stomach.
"Pardon the intrusion," he said, his eyes half-closed in concentration.
"Mr. Biggins." Adom stiffened. "What exactly are you doing?"
"Sensing something... interesting." Mr. Biggins moved his hand slightly, fingers splayed as if feeling for something invisible. "There's a change in your mana pool."
Adom started to pull away, but Mr. Biggins held up his other hand in a pacifying gesture.
"Just one moment more," he murmured. Then, seemingly satisfied, he stepped back. "You mentioned taking a skill from a vampire, yes? Healing Factor, was it?"
"Yeah," Adom replied cautiously. "What about it?"
"How fast does it heal you now?"
Adom thought back to his recent injuries. "About 5.5 times faster than normal now. Why?"
Mr. Biggins straightened suddenly, his eyes wide with excitement. He took a step back, studying Adom with newfound intensity.
"Tell me," he said, "do you remember when I told you that you would reach your full mana pool potential around age thirty? Due to the skill?"
"Yes?" Adom's brow furrowed. "You said that was normal progression for—"
"I was wrong!" Mr. Biggins declared, slapping both hands on the table with enough force to send a nearby quill rolling off the edge.
"What the fuck?" Adom blurted out.
In his pocket, Zuni stirred at the commotion, poking his head out with his permanent smile somehow looking groggy.
Mr. Biggins paced back and forth, hands gesticulating wildly. "You see, mana pools are like muscles. They grow with use, yes, but every person has a natural limit—a ceiling, if you will."
"I know this already—"
"No, no, you don't understand." Mr. Biggins leaned across the table. "For humans, that ceiling is relatively fixed. Some reach it faster than others, but the ultimate potential rarely changes. That's why even the most talented human mages plateau eventually."
Adom nodded impatiently. "Right. I will stop at two circles."
"Exactly! And I calculated that you would reach your maximum by your thirties." Mr. Biggins' eyes gleamed with the fervor of discovery. "But your Healing Factor isn't just healing wounds, my boy. It's optimizing your entire system."
"What are you saying?"
"Your mana pool isn't just expanding at an accelerated rate—it's evolving. Healing Factor is continuously rebuilding your magical pathways, making them more efficient each time. You're not just growing faster; you're growing beyond what should be possible."
Adom sat back, trying to process this. "So... I'll reach two-circle sooner?"
"Oh, much sooner. And then you'll keep going."
"What?" Adom nearly stood up. "Keep going where?"
Mr. Biggins spread his hands wide. "That's the fascinating part! I can't tell you precisely. Your body is rewriting the rules."
"How long?" Adom asked, leaning forward. "How long until I reach one-circle?"
Mr. Biggins tapped his fingers against his chin, calculating. "At your current rate of development... you could reach one-circle capacity by your late teens rather than mid-twenties. Maybe sooner if the skill keep developing."
"And two-circle?"
"Early twenties, possibly. And then..." Mr. Biggins trailed off, his eyes distant with calculation.
"And then what?" Adom pressed.
"And then you keep growing." Mr. Biggins' voice dropped to an almost reverent whisper. "The Healing Factor isn't just repairing damage. It's constantly refining your entire system—magical pathways, mana retention, even conversion efficiency."
Adom sat in stunned silence. He had expected advantages from his abilities, certainly, but this was beyond anything he'd imagined.
"Are you sure about this?" he finally asked.
"As sure as I can be without watching you for the next decade," Mr. Biggins replied. "Your mana signature has already changed since I last examined you. It's denser, more refined. Like comparing rough wool to fine silk."
Zuni had fully emerged from Adom's pocket now, stretching his tiny limbs before settling on the table to watch the proceedings with curious amber eyes.
"I didn't expect this," Adom admitted. "I initially thought Healing Factor would just... well, heal me."
"That's the beauty of magic, my boy." Mr. Biggins' voice took on a lecturing tone. "It rarely behaves exactly as we expect, especially when different systems interact. Your reincarnated soul, a non human ability, and your own natural talents are creating something entirely new."
The image of Eren flashed through Adom's mind. He had plans for helping the kid develop his talents, but had always worried it might be too much to put on his shoulders.
Now though...
Suddenly, Adom felt an emotion he never thought he'd direct at one particular person: gratitude.
Not for Helios the person, of course—the vampire had been a monster in every sense of the word. But for what he had gained from their encounter...
"Thank you, Helios," he murmured, "wherever you may be."
Which was, of course, nowhere. Or hell. Depending on one's belief.
Adom hoped it was the latter.