Orange flames licked greedily at the stone tower, and smoke rolled up like a giant serpent, dyeing half the sky a murky shade.
Deep inside the tower, the interrogation room was heating up.
Jellal sat with his back to the wall. The acrid stench of smoke wormed into his nose, making his cheek twitch.
"Shane… you bastard…" he forced out between his teeth. By now he knew exactly what that "watch out for fire" had meant.
It wasn't a warning—it was a crime in the making.
He'd never imagined the guy would leave him such a big "gift" on the way out, without fearing he might actually burn to death.
Grumbling aside, though, as he watched the flames rage and the structure begin to collapse, Jellal couldn't help a surge of savage satisfaction.
This damned tower—this is what it deserves!
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the unconscious girl in purple stir. A faint groan, a flutter of lashes—she was about to wake.
Jellal's gaze hardened; every trace of emotion vanished, replaced by a deliberately cultivated, icy indifference.
He adjusted his posture in a snap—back straight, shoulders squared—to make himself more imposing.
When the girl's eyes fully opened, she looked around blankly, instinctively searching for that "monster"—
and found a blue-haired boy looking down at her.
He lowered his eyes to her, gaze like a frozen lake.
Then his voice fell, cold:
"…Who are you?"
…
Elsewhere, dusk was falling. After most of a day at sea, the ships finally eased up to an unfamiliar coast.
Hundreds of people poured into the seaside town at once—bound to draw stares and invite trouble.
Luckily, Grandpa Rob knew the place well; he'd completed several guild jobs here before.
He led Shane and a few steady hands through a warren of back alleys to an "old friend's" underground channel.
It went smoother than expected.
At the end of the pipeline was the steward to the city's power broker, whose master was a noble straight out of a stereotype: as long as there was money to be made and no trouble in his domain, he didn't care about details.
The sea boats, supplies, and magical gear they'd brought were priced as a single lot.
The price, of course, was chopped down by more than half, but what they needed now was cash, speed, and a clean deal.
The coins they got were piled into a hastily found wooden crate—not as much as you'd hope, but enough to pay everyone's way home.
Shane didn't hesitate. In full view of everyone, he divided the money evenly.
With the split done, people began to peel off.
Some, homesick to the bone, left that very night; others chose to linger at this temporary stop and see how things shook out.
Simon left the fastest. He hugged everyone hard, eyes rimmed red, and folded a thousand words into one: "Take care!"
Then he ran for the station without looking back.
Millianna stuck close to Rob. The old man patted her head and told Shane and Erza, "We'll rest here a while. She's young and she's suffered plenty—she needs a good rest."
In the end, Shane and Erza took rooms at the same clean, tidy inn as Rob and Millianna.
The first thing Shane did on entering the room was sprint for the bath.
With his touch of neat-freak, he'd been at his limit with the Tower's filth—and he had no idea how Erza kept her hair that smooth.
Warm water sluiced down, as if washing away the tower's lingering stink along with the grime.
He changed into the inn's cotton clothes—simple cloth, but with the scent of sun.
Then he stood before the mirror and, for the first time, had a moment to really look at himself in this world.
The boy in the glass looked twelve or thirteen, black short hair wet on his brow, fine features, and eyes steadier than his years.
He hadn't finished growing, but with all the stat bumps, his frame now traced smooth muscle lines—
not bulky, just a quiet sense of strength.
Shane arched an eyebrow; the mirror did the same. The face was seven or eight tenths like his last life's, which gave him an odd sense of peace.
"Not bad. Pretty handsome." A slightly smug, self-satisfied smile tugged at his lips.
After toweling his hair dry, he all but dove onto the soft bed, shut his eyes, and sank his awareness inward.
The Book of Heroic Spirits hovered quietly.
At a thought, the pages flipped to the section on "Trials."
After all that hard work, it was time to reap.
Sure enough, now that everything at the Tower of Heaven had settled, the trial [The Way Out] was glowing softly.
[Trial Complete. Evaluating Actions.]
[You did not choose to flee alone; you rallied others to rise up. Not only did you lead everyone out of the cage, you then settled each person, giving them a foundation to choose their future. Such compassion and responsibility befit a "Heroic Spirit."]
[Based on your performance, rewards upgraded.]
"Nice review—but 'rewards upgraded'…" Shane muttered to himself. "Too vague. How much of an upgrade?"
He prodded the Book with a thought, trying to get a more intuitive score.
"If we grade it—say S to D—what's this run count as?"
As if in answer, the characters on the page flowed and reformed, settling on a clear mark:
[A+]
"A+, huh…" Shane mused. One step shy of a perfect S—so the rescue, the burning of the tower, and the follow-up all met the Book's expectations.
He figured the points docked were for his current "resettlement" being just a pouch of coin—not a real solution to everyone's troubles.
But he let it go quickly.
He wasn't a god; he couldn't do everything. With limited time and energy, getting this far was doing his utmost.
An A+ was unquestionably the strongest affirmation of his effort. With that thought, the faint regret in his chest evaporated; he accepted the mark with ease.
With the grade locked in, the specific rewards appeared:
[Summon] Depth Increase: Two.
[Filter Summoned Spirit Traits] Permissions: Two.
"Depth increase?" Shane rolled the term around. At the same time, more information trickled from the Book into his mind.
As it flowed, he gained a deeper understanding of the Book's new capability.
Per the tome, the initial summon had been a kind of newbie tutorial.
The target pool was just testing the waters—the very top layer of the spirit pool.
There were true heroes there, sure, but they couldn't compare with the headliners of their epics—Heracles, Gilgamesh, Arjuna…
A "depth increase" meant diving into deeper waters.
In plainer words: swapping from the standard banner to the rare banner.
And the spirits there hail from grander legends and wield mightier power. Stack enough depth increases, and you could even brush the chief gods of various mythologies.
~~~
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