Osric left the ring to noise he wasn't used to carrying with him.
Cheers followed him up the stone steps and into the narrow streets above, rough voices echoing between damp walls, hands slapping his back as he passed. Some shouted his name. Others just roared, drunk on blood and spectacle. A few looked at him with something closer to awe.
He didn't look back.
The night air was cool against his split brow, the sting sharp enough to keep him grounded. Every step reminded him of the fight—aching ribs, a protesting leg, bruises already settling deep—but beneath it all was something else. A quiet steadiness. The certainty that when the pressure had come, he hadn't folded.
This time, he walked home standing a little straighter.
—
Jeffrey hadn't cheered.
He'd stood frozen at the edge of the ring, mouth half open, watching Osric do something that didn't fit any version of the boy he thought he knew. Not survive. Not get lucky.
Win.
By the time the handlers dragged the veteran away, Jeffrey was already moving. He pushed through the crowd, heart hammering, and took the fastest route toward Greydell Castle. The bar near the apprentice knights' sleeping quarters was loud as always—low ceiling, cheap ale, familiar voices.
Ruben was there. So were his friends.
Jeffrey didn't sit.
"You won't believe this," he said, breathless. "That boy. Osric. He fought tonight. Underground."
Ruben frowned. Someone laughed.
Jeffrey shook his head hard. "No. You don't understand. He didn't just fight. He dismantled a veteran. Head-on. Clinch. Knees. Elbows. He broke him."
The laughter died.
Ruben slowly straightened, mug forgotten in his hand. "Osric?"
Jeffrey nodded. "He walked out to cheers."
—
Osric turned down the final street toward home, the noise finally fading behind him.
[Challenge Completed]
The words appeared without fanfare, crisp and absolute.
[Rewards Granted]
+1 Strength
+1 Agility
+1 Stamina
+1 Endurance
+1 Vitality
Pain Resistance: F → E
Combat Instinct: F → E
There was no explosion of power. No rush that stole his breath.
Instead, it settled.
Muscles felt denser. His balance adjusted without thought. The ache in his ribs dulled just slightly, the pain still there but… muted. Manageable. He flexed his hand and felt the difference—not dramatic, not miraculous, but real.
Stronger.
Even if only by a little.
Osric exhaled and continued on, the streetlights stretching long shadows ahead of him. Behind him were cheers, blood, and a fight that would already be turning into rumor.
Ahead of him was something else entirely.
Osric pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The hinges complained softly, the familiar sound echoing through the cramped, broken space he called home. The room was dark, the air stale, wooden walls holding onto the day's cold. Nothing had changed here—not the cracked chair, not the thin blanket on the floor, not the sense of quiet isolation that always greeted him.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment.
'Even if I still don't know why the rewards were hidden behind question marks at first…'
The thought drifted through him, calm rather than frustrated.
'…this is more than enough.'
He straightened, rolling his shoulders. The difference was subtle, but undeniable. His body felt more responsive, more his. The system hadn't just given him numbers—it had rewarded effort, risk, and pain taken head-on.
'It really feels like I'm growing,' he thought. 'Not just because of the system. Because I earned it.'
He moved to the blanket on the floor and sat down, wincing faintly as his ribs reminded him they weren't fully done complaining. From inside his worn clothes, he pulled out the coin pouch and loosened the string.
The sound of metal filled the room as he spilled the contents onto the floor.
Osric counted carefully.
Once.
Twice.
Osric earned 35 copper crowns from his first and 75 from his second fight.
The earnings from both fights lay there in uneven stacks. He gathered the coins he already had from before and added them to the pile, arranging them with deliberate care.
He now had a total of 1 silver crown and 188 copper crowns which was the same as 2 silver and 88 copper.
This wasn't wealth.
But it was progress.
Enough to eat properly. Enough to breathe a little easier. Enough to keep going.
Osric closed his hand around the coins, then tied the pouch again and tucked it away beneath the loose wooden floor he used as a hiding place. When he stood, the room felt a fraction smaller—like he was already outgrowing it.
He lay down on the blanket at last, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
His body ached. His brow throbbed. Tomorrow would hurt worse.
But for the first time in a long while, Osric allowed himself a thin, exhausted smile.
Tonight hadn't just paid him in coin.
It had paid him in certainty.