Minutes passed.
Saladin took us with him again and led us to the food district. We sat down, and he brought us a pair of hot drinks—or at least the steam made them seem that way.
After the first sip, I remembered what caffeine tasted like.
I coughed. Pathetically.
—Drink slowly, boy —Saladin said, standing before us with his arms crossed, concern evident in his gaze.
—I'm sorry —Rachel murmured beside me, gripping her cup tightly. Her moist eyes revealed deep regret.
—It's not your fault…
—It is! —she interrupted—. I… I get along with Lancelot. And when you arrived, I ran to him excited, telling him I had found Tristan.
—I thought you didn't believe me?
—At first I did. Or… at least I wanted to clear all doubt. He was surprised… I suppose they investigated, and when the real Tristan arrived, they realized you had been impersonating him.
—That's ridiculous, though —I replied, my frustration clear. Not at Rachel—but at the situation—. I only told you. I didn't brag to anyone about being Tristan. In fact, the most I ever mentioned was…
—Ice Emblem —Saladin said calmly.
—Exactly. That's the only thing I've repeated several times. Why are they targeting me?
—I have no way of knowing —Saladin answered.
Rachel swallowed her tears.
It was hard to imagine someone like King Richard the Lionheart crying over something like this…
"Does she really value me that much?"
—It's actually quite simple —a playful voice chimed in, one I recognized instantly—. The ridiculous followers of Prince Charming can't tell the difference between nobility and idiocy.
Roberts was leaning across the table behind us.
Rachel jumped instantly to Saladin's side.
Saladin merely snorted.
—Hello, Roberts.
—Greetings, Sultan of Sultans. I heard what happened. Don't take it personally, kid. The Arthurian little club is full of fanatic lunatics. Normally in the Nexo we're civil, even a bit tribal. But that group in particular seems to follow a doctrine dedicated to being idiots.
—Hey… Lancelot is… —Rachel tried to defend him, but the words failed her.
—Sure, sure. I'm not saying they don't have redeeming qualities. I even worked alongside the king the last time I reached Silver. The scary part is knowing there are monsters even worse than him.
—You lost while teaming up with Arthur?! —I stood up instantly—. Then… is it possible…?
Roberts glanced at me sideways with an amused grin before letting out a short laugh and pointing at me.
—For you? That'd be like asking a dog to steer a ship to India. You're not even close to his heels, kid. And I'm not belittling you. You're one of the few Bronze who's earned my respect… and that of many others.
—Others? You mean Heracles?
—So you're aware you're on some people's radar. Yes, the great Herc. But not just him. You've got fans and detractors alike. If you ask me…
—Enough —Saladin interrupted, attempting to stop Roberts.
Roberts smiled… and ignored him entirely.
—If Sir Tristan hates you, it's probably because he needed one of his little friends to throw himself at Aries just to help him climb. Pathetic, right?
I couldn't believe it.
Sir Tristan—the man who lifted me with one hand—had been carried.
Just like me.
—I'm no better than him… —I muttered.
—You're wrong —Rachel shot back so suddenly I flinched—. I know what you're capable of, Tris. You just need to believe it. Look at Gobann—even he thinks you're potentially worthy of a Diamond weapon.
—A Diamond weapon?! —Roberts exclaimed, standing on the table—. Are you kidding? Those are exclusive to Platinums or extremely talented Golds. Even the little princess doesn't have one.
—Thank you for reminding me, Roberts —Rachel replied with faint disdain—. It's true. My Caliburn is only Gold. Even Excalibur wasn't Diamond… until Arthur revealed Rhongomyniad. He had no Diamond weapons, and yet you might receive one.
—Actually —Saladin reclaimed the conversation—, the axe you carry is an interesting hybrid between Silver and Diamond. That says a lot about your potential, boy.
—This is just Paul's legacy…
—And your story —Rachel countered—. You named it yourself, didn't you? The Glacial Death…
—Frostmagnar…
For a moment, I felt as though the eye of the axe was watching me.
Challenging me.
Motivating me.
My hand brushed along the blade. It felt cold. Like the wall of the Connector.
—Tris, you need to buy the enhancement to use your weapon properly. That's absolute priority.
—I agree —Saladin added.
Without hesitation, I nodded and opened my panel.
A new section appeared in my neural system: a small three-dimensional floating star, silently calling me to press it.
The panel displayed what I expected:
[Requirement: Level 4]
With a soft sigh, I didn't argue.
I leveled up.
For the first time, my attack points increased by more than one.
[Cost: 10k CN | Level Up!][Level 4 Achieved: All stats improve according to previous actions.][Available Effort Points: 9][ATK +3 / DEF +1 / SPD +2 / PRE +2 / SYS +1]
I didn't overthink it.
I had to do it.
I had to be capable of holding my axe—the legacy Paul and I built together.
I could almost hear my friend whispering for me to carry it forward.
I pressed the star.
And confirmed.
[Cost: 100k CN | Fjölkaldra, Wing of Frostmagnar][Those chosen who face the mortal cold present themselves before a being born from the infinity of the sky. That wing which once cleaved, traced, and separated the heavens, clouds, and stars now bows to its new rider. It is not possession—it is an alliance. The Glacial Death lives on through this weapon. Prove yourself worthy of wielding its full power: a power capable of freezing existence itself.]
A wide grin spread across my face as I read the weapon's epitaph.
My hands trembled as I grasped it.
The cold felt real.
It was light… almost as if it wished to become part of me.
Like a wing.
Or a claw.
But my smile faded quickly.
—What have I done…?