CHAPTER 13: NIGHTBLOOM

The tavern was alive with noise and warmth that night.

Laughter and chatter filled the air, the clinking mugs and the scrape of plates adding to the hum of conversation.

A minstrel strummed a lute in the corner, his voice weaving a ballad about some long dead hero, while serving girls hurried between tables with pitchers of ale.

At one of the crowded tables near the center, Wade sat with his party.

Sebastian had his mug tilted back, froth lining his beard as he drank deep.

Rowan leaned back in his chair, smiling broadly at something Ingrid had said, though Ingrid herself wore her usual straight expression, her eyes half-lidded, sipping slowly from her cup.

Wade tore a chunk of bread, dipping it into the stew before him.

The food was rich and filling, far better than anything he had eaten before awakening, and the ale left his head pleasantly light. And it tasted even better when he wasn’t the one paying.

He let the noise of the tavern soak into him, and in that moment, he felt like he was part of something, seated at the same table as real adventurers.

Earlier that day, after their return to the guild building, Rowan had insisted they train.

He’d claimed his body was still buzzing with leftover energy from the swamp, and Sebastian agreed that Wade needed to see how his skills measured against others.

They’d sparred in the practice yard, and Wade had quickly realized how outclassed he was.

Sebastian defeated him with the kind of fighting style that reminded him of a wall. He felt closed in, with no options.

Ingrid’s speed was terrifying, and he knew she could kill him with her arrow before he could even do anything about it.

Rowan was the worst. He hardly moved, only weaving around Wade’s attacks, tripping him up again and again before tapping him on the head with his staff.

It hadn’t been strength that beat him. Wade could feel that in his body. He wasn’t weak anymore.

No, it was skill, honed through years, or in Ingrid’s case, months of experience.

They read his movements before he even committed to them.

He had fought the slimes with brute force, but against real adventurers, his swings meant nothing.

He had laughed with them anyway, though the lesson burned in his chest. He needed to learn. He had to.

Now, in the tavern, with stew and ale warming his belly, he thought back on it with a mix of frustration and determination.

Rowan slapped the table suddenly, his grin wide. "The moon is out!" he said loudly, earning a few glances from nearby tables. "That means it’s time to check our prize, eh?"

Sebastian chuckled, his deep voice rumbling. "You’ve been waiting all night for this."

Wade blinked. "The herb?"

"The herb," Rowan confirmed. He drained the last of his ale, stood, and gestured. "Come. Let’s not keep the moon waiting."

The party rose, weaving through the press of bodies.

Outside, the night air was cool, a relief from the stuffy heat of the tavern.

They slipped into a narrow alley where the shadows were darker, but the moon still pierced through, its silver light spilling down between the rooftops.

"Go on," Rowan said with a smirk. "Let’s see it."

Wade reached into his inventory and pulled out the flower he had grabbed in the swamp. Its dark petals looked as plain as they had before. He held it up, letting the moonlight strike it.

A second passed. Then another. Nothing.

The flower stayed dark and ordinary. There was no faint glow. Not even a shimmer of magic.

Rowan burst out laughing, doubling over with the force of it. "I knew it! I knew it would be like this!"

Wade frowned, his face heating. "What...?"

Rowan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. "Wade, with your perception where it is, the only way you’d find a real Nightbloom during the day is sheer dumb luck. You just grabbed some look-alike plant."

Sebastian’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smile. Even Ingrid’s gaze tilted her head, her eyes on Wade a moment longer than usual, though she said nothing.

Rowan reached into his own inventory and pulled out a flower.

This one’s petals shimmered faintly, a silver glow blooming across it as the moonlight touched its surface. It was the real Nightbloom.

"I picked this up after our little encounter with the Dreadmire," he said, still grinning. "Didn’t say anything earlier because I wanted to see the look on your face."

He pressed the glowing flower into Wade’s hand. "Here. I don’t need the coin. You keep it."

Wade blinked at him, stunned. "Are you serious?"

Rowan winked. "Dead serious."

Wade swallowed hard, then nodded, his gratitude plain in his voice. "Thank you."

He slipped the true Nightbloom into his Inventory, feeling its glow fade from his palm.

"Don’t mention it," Rowan said cheerfully. "You’ll repay me someday. Maybe by not getting eaten by a slime next time."

After a few more jokes from Rowan, they said their goodbyes, splitting off one by one.

Sebastian clapped Wade on the back, nearly knocking him off his feet, before heading towards his apartment.

Rowan whistled as he walked down another street. Even Ingrid turned away without a word, vanishing into the city shadows.

Wade alone made his way back to the guild building. Everyone else in the party had an apartment in the city. Very soon, he would too.

The streets were quieter now, the lamps burning low, and the cobblestones cool underfoot.

His body ached from the day’s battles and sparring, but his mind was still working, churning over everything he had learned.

Inside the guild hall, only a few attendants remained at the reception desk, ready for the adventurer arriving at an odd hour.

Wade approached one, presenting both the quest parchment and the Nightbloom.

The woman accepted them both carefully, her eyes flicking over the papers before sliding his badge across the counter.

She pressed it against a slab, numbers flickering across its surface.

"Your quest has been logged under your captain’s number," she said briskly. "The payment will be delivered through him after verification. You’ll hear by tomorrow."

"Thank you," Wade said quietly.

The woman only nodded, already turning to the next task.

Wade pocketed his badge and dragged himself back up the stairs, his boots heavy.

His room was quiet, the narrow bed waiting.

He barely managed to kick his boots off before slumping onto the mattress, exhaustion crushing him into the thin straw stuffing.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was simple.

’It’s been one hell of a day.’