If Ravi had to choose between fighting another Void Hound or accompanying two high-maintenance women on a shopping spree in the noble district, he would choose the Hound.
The Hound, at least, didn't ask his opinion on shades of teal.
"It's 'Seafoam Mist'," Celeste corrected him for the third time, holding up a swatch of fabric that looked identical to the previous five swatches of blue. "And the thread count determines the mana conductivity. I need formal wear that doesn't ignite if I sneeze a fireball."
"And I need something that says 'I am royalty' but also 'I can decapitate you with a spoon'," Lyanna added, disappearing behind a changing screen.
Ravi sat on a plush velvet ottoman, surrounded by mountainous piles of boxes. He was the pack mule. To a normal man, the stack would be crushing. To Ravi, it was like holding a cloud.
"Can't I just wear my tunic?" he asked, picking at a loose thread on his trousers. "It has character. And bloodstains. Adds mystique."
"No," Lyanna's voice floated over the screen. "The Victory Banquet is hosted by the King himself. The entire court will be there. Theron insisted you look the part of a 'Distinguished Artifact Wielder,' not a homeless mercenary."
The curtain swooshed open.
Ravi stopped picking the thread.
Lyanna stood there in a gown of shimmering silver silk that hugged her athletic frame like a second skin. It was cut high on the leg to allow movement and low on the back to reveal the muscle definition of a lifelong warrior. She looked less like an adventurer and more like a weapon forged from moonlight.
She caught him staring. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Well? Is it practical?"
Ravi swallowed. "Very. Aerodynamic."
"Good answer," she winked. "Now it's your turn. The tailor is waiting."
The tailor was a nervous little man with a tape measure who seemed terrified of Ravi. Probably because rumors had spread that Ravi ate minotaurs for breakfast.
"Arms up, please, ser," the tailor squeaked.
Ravi complied. The tailor measured his chest. "Forty-two inches... my, you have very... dense structure."
"I eat a lot of rocks," Ravi deadpanned.
Getting fitted was a nightmare of self-control. Every time the tailor tightened the measuring tape, Ravi had to consciously relax his muscles to avoid snapping the poor man's tool. When he tried on a black velvet doublet, he accidentally flexed his shoulder and heard the ominous rip of expensive stitching.
"Fabric flaw," Ravi said quickly, freezing in place. "Very shoddy material."
The tailor paled. "My apologies, ser! I will reinforce the seams with wyvern leather!"
Three hours later, they emerged. Ravi was wearing a suit of midnight blue with silver threading that matched Lyanna's dress perfectly. He felt like a penguin, but a very expensive, dangerous penguin.
The Royal Palace at night was a galaxy of lantern light. Carriages lined the marble driveway, depositing nobles dripping in gold and gemstones.
Ravi, Lyanna, and Celeste walked up the grand staircase. They didn't have a carriage. Walking was a power move, according to Celeste. Also, Ravi suspected a carriage might break if he sat down too hard.
"Shoulders back," Lyanna murmured, linking her arm through his. Her bicep was firm against his. "Don't look at the floor. Look through them."
"I'm looking for the buffet," Ravi whispered.
They entered the Grand Ballroom. It was cavernous, with crystal chandeliers the size of houses and a polished floor that reflected the guests like water.
The herald banged his staff.
"Lady Lyanna Stormforge, of House Stormforge!"
Applause rippled through the room. Respectful, but guarded.
"Archmage Celeste Moonwhisper, of the Royal Academy!"
Polite clapping. Academics were respected but boring.
"And... Ravi. Of the... Guild."
The silence was instant.
Hundreds of eyes swiveled to them. Whispers hissed like steam escaping a pipe.
"That's him? The Anomaly?"
"He looks... normal."
"I heard he killed Grimshaw with a look."
"I heard he's the secret love child of a dragon."
Ravi kept his face blank, bored. Inside, he was sweating. This was worse than the goblin cave. In the cave, at least the enemies just tried to stab you. Here, they judged you.
"Ignore them," Lyanna said, tightening her grip on his arm. She steered him into the crowd. "We need to make an appearance, shake a few hands, then we can find the wine."
"Lead the way, General."
The next hour was a blur of introductions. Ravi met dukes, duchesses, generals, and merchants. He gave them all the same vague answers about his "training" and his "artifact weapon."
"So, the glaive," Duke Hellinger, a portly man with a mustache larger than his ambition, pressed. "Is it true it absorbs souls?"
"Only on Tuesdays," Ravi said gravely. "Union rules."
Celeste, who had wandered off to critique the magical wards on the windows, drifted back with a glass of champagne. "This swill is chemically unbalanced. Too much acidity."
"It's free," Ravi said, taking it from her and downing it in one gulp. The glass groaned but didn't shatter. Victory.
Just then, the crowd parted. A hush fell over the room, different from the silence that greeted Ravi. This was a silence of reverence.
Aurelia Lightbringer entered.
She wasn't wearing armor tonight. She wore a white gown with gold embroidery that looked like sunbeams trapped in thread. A simple gold circlet rested on her brown hair. She looked divine. Literally.
"Oh great," Celeste muttered. "Here comes the fun police."
Aurelia scanned the room, ignoring the bowing nobles, and walked straight toward their trio. The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
"Lady Stormforge," Aurelia greeted with a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Archmage."
Then she turned to Ravi. "And the man of the hour."
"Your Holiness," Ravi nodded. "Nice dress. Very... bright."
"Light illuminates the shadows," she said enigmatically. She stepped closer. "The Church has reviewed the report on the Void Hound. It seems you possess great fortitude."
"I eat my vegetables."
"The Church is always looking for... sturdy champions," Aurelia lowered her voice, the sounds of the party seeming to fade away around them. "There is a crusade brewing in the North. The dark places are waking up. We could use a man whom magic cannot touch."
Lyanna stepped forward, her silver silk rustling. "He's Guild, Aurelia. Not Church property."
"For now," Aurelia said smoothly. "But faith is a calling, not a contract. Perhaps Ravi will find his purpose lies in service to a higher power, rather than just... coin."
She placed a hand on Ravi's arm. Her touch was warm, gentle. But Ravi felt the static charge of her scan again. She was testing him. Checking if anything had changed since yesterday.
"I'm a freelancer," Ravi said, gently removing her arm. "I don't do well with strict schedules. Or morning prayers."
Aurelia laughed, a bell-like sound that charmed everyone within fifty feet. "We shall see. Enjoy the banquet, Ravi. The roast boar is excellent. Almost as tough as you."
She glided away, leaving a scent of lilies and faint menace.
"She wants you," Celeste analyzed. "Not romantically. Though your genetic compatibility is high. She wants to weaponize your invulnerability for her Crusade."
"Everyone wants to weaponize me," Ravi sighed. "Can't a guy just be a trophy husband?"
Lyanna choked on her drink. "Trophy husband?"
"I mean, I look great in this suit, right?"
Lyanna set her glass down. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and it wasn't from the wine. "Come with me. I need fresh air."
She dragged him away from the crowd, toward the large balcony doors.
The balcony overlooked the capital. The cool night wind was a relief after the stuffy ballroom. The city lights twinkled below, mirroring the stars above.
Lyanna walked to the railing. She didn't look at him. She looked out at the kingdom.
"My father used to bring me out here," she said quietly. "Before the plague took him."
"House Stormforge?" Ravi asked, joining her. "You said you're royalty."
"Cousin to the King," she corrected. "High nobility. I grew up in these halls. The whispers, the backstabbing, the arranged marriages... I hated it. That's why I joined the Guild. To be Lyanna the Warrior, not Lyanna the Princess."
She turned to him. The moonlight caught her silver hair, making her look ethereal.
"But bringing you here... putting you in the spotlight... I dragged you into my world. The world I ran away from." She looked guilty. "I wanted to clear your name, to get you the reward. But now Grimshaw's enemies will watch you. The Church will hound you. You're not safe anymore."
Ravi leaned on the stone railing. He pushed down experimentally. The stone held.
"I was never safe," he said. "From the moment I woke up in that field, I was different. If I'd stayed an F-Ranker, eventually something would have killed me. Or I would have accidentally destroyed a village sneezing."
He looked at her. "You gave me a place. You gave me a team. I can handle the nobles. They're soft."
"Not all of them," she warned. "Words can cut deeper than swords."
"My skin is pretty thick."
She laughed softly, stepping closer. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume—something earthy, like rain and steel.
"You really are a mystery, Ravi," she whispered. She reached out, her hand hovering near his cheek. "Sometimes I wonder... if I tried to cut you... would you even bleed?"
It was the question she'd been dancing around for weeks.
Ravi looked at her. He could lie. He could tell her about the 'artifact' again.
But he didn't.
"I hope we never have to find out," he said softly.
The air between them crackled. It wasn't magic. It was tension. Raw and undeniable. She leaned in, just an inch. Her eyes dropped to his lips.
Ravi's heart hammered against his ribs. This was dangerous territory. If he kissed her, he wasn't just Ravi the adventurer anymore.
Suddenly, a massive boom echoed from the ballroom behind them. Glass shattered. Screams erupted.
Lyanna spun around, the romantic haze vanishing instantly, replaced by the warrior's reflex. "Explosion?"
"No," Ravi said, his ears picking up the distinct sound of tearing metal. "Intrusion."
They ran back inside.
The center of the ballroom floor had collapsed. Not from a bomb, but from below. Something had burrowed up.
Rising from the hole was a creature made of jagged metal and grinding gears—a golem. But not a standard construct. It was glowing with that sickly purple light.
A Void Golem.
It stood twenty feet tall, towering over the terrified nobles. Its chest opened, revealing a cannon pulsating with void energy.
"The banquet is cancelled," the machine boomed, its voice a magical projection of Malachai's followers. "The Vessel must be tested."
The cannon swiveled. It pointed directly at Aurelia.
"The Saintess!" someone screamed.
Aurelia stood her ground, raising a hand to cast a shield, but Void magic would chew right through it.
Ravi didn't think. He didn't check for witnesses. He didn't care about his 'weakling' act.
He sprinted.
"Lyanna, throw me!" he shouted.
She didn't ask why. She understood the physics. He needed altitude. She cupped her hands. Ravi stepped into them.
Using her S-Rank strength, she heaved him upward.
He soared through the air, a midnight-blue missile in a tailored suit.
He drew the Widowmaker mid-flight. The black blade hummed, hungry for the metal of the intruder.
"Sorry about the suit!" he yelled to no one in particular.
He crashed into the Golem's chest just as the cannon fired.