Chapter 361: 361. Locked but Open

Was it a good idea to leave Lux behind? Nil asked as Dallion made his way down the street. Healing, even at his level, isn’t something you should give away.

He’s still linked to me, Dallion replied. If I need him in the realms, I’ll just summon him, and no one in the real world will know the difference.

Yes, that is an option. You’ve become a lot more calculating lately, dear boy. It’s almost commendable.

Well, I got tired of being taken advantage of.

Quite so. However, just be sure not to turn into the sort of person that takes advantage of others.

A roar filled the air, marking the end of another tournament event. Normally, this would give the spectators a breather to go about the city before the next series of fights. That meant that for the next hour or so, the streets would be packed with people. Dallion didn’t mind that. His goal was to get to the Icepicker Guildhall before then. Given that it was day, Spike would be replaced by a new set of guards, likely someone that Dallion vaguely knew. The important part was that none of them would find it suspicious he was visiting so often. Also, after today, there would be no reason for him to go there anymore. At least not until everything was settled.

Hey, you’re that guy! a voice shouted.

Dallion turned to his right, expecting to see a fan of his exploits, but instead found that the one addressing him was an iron shop sign.

Never thought I’d see one of your kind before, the sign continued.

There was genuine surprise and joy in his voice. Looking closely, Dallion could see that the alloy it was made of was rather unusual, suggesting that the sign wasn’t local but rather was brought here. The year beneath “established” suggested that the shop was over three centuries old, but Dallion had a feeling the guardian was older.

I’m told I am the only one, Dallion replied with a smile.

Nah. It’s a large world out there. Accidents happen every now and again. The last empath I saw was a dwarf, talk about weird. The sign laughed. Listen, I know you’re probably busy and all, but I was wondering, can you mend me just a bit? I feel bad for the owners of this place. They’re overworked as it is and don’t have time for their own items, let alone store property.

The request was unusual enough that it made Dallion stop. The shop in question was clearly a repair shop, though now closed for the festival. Dallion had passed by it dozens of times, but had never actually noticed it. Having the power to mend things on his own, the only thing he was interested in was good food and gear. Definitely not repair shops.

Sure. Dallion reached up and touched the sign with the tip of his fingers. I guess it’s true what they say—menders always have broken gear. Want an improvement?

Nah, I’m fine. There’s no need to depress the people here. Just getting free from a few cracks will do.

A moment later and the sign was as good as new. The experience brought a sense of nostalgia back to Dallion. It had been a while since he had actively repaired items. Going through the item maze and adjusting the damaged elements felt refreshingly simple. Once this was over, maybe he’d do more of that—just repair an item or two for the fun of it.

There you go, Dallion lowered his hand.

Thank you kindly, the sign said. First human I’ve seen go to a hundred percent. Usually, they stop when they get to the nineties.

It’s a bad habit I have. How come you’re the only one able to recognize me?

The wisdom of age. I might not look it, but I was a very popular shield back in my day.

Normally, this was the point at which the armadil shield would add in a snarky comment of his own. For some reason, he remained silent.

Of course, that was back when the dwarves were worth something. Just don’t get me started talking about the old days or I’ll never stop. The sign laughed. I’m sure you have lots of work. Better get going before you get someone mad. That’s the problem with humans, always mad at something.

Yeah, that’s the problem with humans. See you around. Dallion continued along his way.

If you ever want to chat don’t hesitate to come visit! I know lots of interesting stories.

Any other day, Dallion would have gladly accepted the offer. Not today, though. Blocking the noise from his mind, he walked on to the guildhall and went inside.

The place remained pretty empty, despite the door being unlocked. Even so, Dallion could sense the distinct aroma of chicken soup. After a few more moments, Dallion even had a good idea who the soup's owner could be.

“Estezol?” Dallion said loudly, his voice echoing through the empty lobby.

Within moments, one of the doors opened, revealing the short bearded man. A large white napkin round his throat indicated that he was indeed having a “snack,” as did the increased aroma of food coming from the room behind him.

“Dal?” Estezol blinked. “What are you doing here? After winning today’s round at the arena, I’d have thought you’d be resting or partying.”

“I had such plans, but things fell through,” Dallion admitted. “I just wanted to go somewhere quiet.”

“Right. And there’s no place as quiet as a guildhall during festival time,” Estezol laughed. “Well, maybe some of the shops. Care to join me, by the way? I picked up a few things here and there. There’s more than enough to share. No additional cost.”

“Maybe later. I didn’t think you'd be keeping an eye on the guildhall.”

“Usually Spike does, but even he has to sleep, so the rest of us take turns keeping an eye on things. I get every third morning.”

“Good to know. Any of the captains here?”

“The guild master was in for a while, but he left. As for the others.” Estezol shrugged. “Most are involved in the festival, or hiding. Remember, there’s the second week to look forward to.”

The second week. In the past, Dallion considered it as a friendly test of strength between guilds. After experiencing the tournament first hand, he knew it was quite serious. There were more than ranking positions at stake. The strong would gain a lot, acquiring new deals and backers, while the weak would have to make do with the scraps and lose part of the new positions they had.

Although Estezol didn’t single anyone out, Dallion suspected that captain Adzorg wasn’t part of the “most.” If Nil was any indication, the old geezer had probably hidden somewhere with enough food and alcohol to last a month, patiently waiting for the event to be done with.

“Anyone in the basement?” Dallion asked as casually as he could muster.

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“Not particularly. A few elites came and went, but for the most part, no one wants to bother. You’ll have plenty of quiet to think and relax.”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing like a cool mind before a fight, eh?” Estezol shoved Dallion with his elbow. “We don’t want you to end your winning streak.”

“No worries. I plan to reach the top eight,” Dallion lied. If what the tattooed man had told him was right, there wouldn’t be a top eight event, maybe not even a top sixteen.

Dallion strode off to the staircase, however, instead of going down, he went directly up. There was no point in worrying about creating an alibi. All he needed to do was take one last long trip. This time, like before, he was going to accept all the help he got.

You’re rushing things again, Nil said.

Sometimes things need to be rushed.

I agree, but there’s a right and wrong way of doing things, and I’m not sure your current way is the right one. Even if you level up ten times, you’ll still be no match for any guardian in that realm.

I don’t have to do it alone. Vihrogon will be there to help.

Upon reaching the floor, Dallion went directly for the room with the aura sword. Barely was he a step away from it, when suddenly he felt someone combat split.

“Why are you here, Dal?” Vend’s voice came behind him.

Crap! Dallion thought. Of all the things that could happen, this was among the worst. If it had been March or one of the other captains, he would have been able to come up with an excuse; he had been practicing his excuses. Vend knew him far too well to let any excuse slide. Not to mention that Vend had warned him not to go near the room two days ago.

“You know why.” Dallion decided to go for broke. Turning around, he looked the elite in the eyes.

“Going on a solo expedition?” Vend came closer. “I thought I had taught you better than this.”

“I thought you said there’d be no more expeditions.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“I think it should be.”

“Oh?” Dallion felt a sense of pride amid a sea of disappointment. Was it that Vend saw his younger self in him?

How mad is he? Dallion asked.

He’s chill, one of Vend’s daggers replied. He just likes to pretend he’s mad. If he’s really mad, you’ll know.

“Just because you’ve won three rounds against low-level seers, you think you’ll be able to survive the sword realm? Or do you just want to wander about as a tourist?”

“I can survive.”

Dallion clenched his fists. He didn’t feel insulted in the least, but needed to inflict a slight amount of pain to decrease the chances of being found out. The worst part of all was not knowing what had happened during Vend’s combat splitting. The elite had chosen to approach Dallion with a question. However, it was just as possible for him to have asked half a dozen other questions just to see how Dallion would react. Dallion himself would have done so had the roles been reversed.

“You’re back to being reckless. Reminds me of your guild’s trial. You were so determined to clear all five levels of the dagger that you refused to take the win when offered. Remind me, what happened afterwards?”

That’s a low blow, Dallion thought.

Even so, Vend was right. At the time, Dallion was just starting to figure out how to use his music skill. Thanks to it and his tactical skills, he had managed to lead his team through the first three levels of the trail dagger. Officially, that was all it took to become a permanent guild member. However, Dallion had stubbornly asked to go on even when everyone else had left the exam. As a result, he had failed at the very start of the fourth level. That created an absurd situation in which the person who had carried everyone to victory had himself failed and was forced to retake the trial a month later.

“It’s different this time. I don’t have anything to prove.”

“Really?” Vend crossed his arms. “In that case, go ahead.”

Dallion hesitated.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a trick. I’ll take full responsibility and come up with an excuse in front of March.”

Dallion still didn’t budge. This had to be a trick. Vend wasn’t one to be swayed by sentimental reasons. And yet, there didn’t seem to be any deceit within him. As far as Dallion could tell, the elite was a hundred percent sincere.

“If you lack the conviction to open the door, what does that say about you?” Vend asked.

Instantly, Dallion grabbed the handle and pressed it down. The door didn’t open. Confused, he pushed further while attempting to push then pull the door. Neither worked.

“Do you really think we’d leave a world item unprotected for anyone to snatch?” Vend asked. “I just wanted to see whether you’re a complete idiot and, sadly, you surpassed my expectations.”

“The door has been locked the entire time?” Dallion asked.

“Ever since our last expedition. Only March has the key. But since you’re so determined about it, I’ll make sure you have a nice long talk with her once the festival is over. It’ll all be in your hands then. Who knows, maybe you’ll manage to convince her to let you in alone? I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

Locked since March’s last expedition? That was impossible. There was no indication that Dallion was lying, but Dallion distinctly remembered entering the time many times. He even had the dryad scroll to prove it. Something strange was going on here, and he didn’t have a clue what it was.

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