CHAPTER 139: ARKHAVAL’S ETERNAL ECLIPSE

Chapter 137 – Arkhaval’s Eternal Eclipse

Ethan walked in the guild hall with his usual calm stride, Lirael and Sylvie trailing at his sides.

At the counter, the receptionist—a young woman with neatly tied hair and a practiced smile—straightened when she saw them approach.

"Welcome. How may I help you today?"

Ethan leaned lazily against the counter. "We’re here to register her." He motioned toward Sylvie. "She’ll also be joining my party."

The receptionist dipped her head politely. "Of course." She pulled out a neat stack of parchment and ink, sliding them across. "Please fill in the basic information."

Sylvie clutched her hands nervously in front of her apron but did as she was told, her handwriting small and precise. When the profession field came up, Ethan answered for her without hesitation.

"She’s a healer."

The receptionist froze mid-stroke, her quill tip blotting a tiny spot of ink.

"A... healer?"

Ethan raised a brow. "Is there a problem?"

"Ah, no, not at all," she said quickly, recovering her composure. "It’s simply unusual. Most healers prefer to stay in cities, running clinics or charging for their services. Having one in a team is..." she smiled faintly, "...a literal lifesaver."

"I want to travel with Master," Sylvie said, her voice clear despite her shy demeanor.

The receptionist blinked, then her eyes fell to the faint shimmer of the slave’s collar around Sylvie’s neck. Master? Oh... She glanced at Ethan. He looked entirely unbothered, shoulders relaxed, eyes bored. Doesn’t seem like he mistreats her at all. Hm. Good for her.

The paperwork finished smoothly.

"Registration complete. Sylvie is now an F-rank adventurer and officially part of your party. The fee is one gold and two silver—two silver for her registration, and one gold for party addition."

Ethan’s smile twitched. "...A rip-off."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." He slid the coins across with a sigh.

Inside his mind, Lirael’s voice echoed dryly. Stop whining. You don’t even blink when spending piles of gold on luxuries, and yet here you are groaning about a guild fee.

Those are necessities, Ethan shot back mentally. This— he jabbed the air, —this is daylight robbery.

Another luxury, Lirael replied flatly. Just admit you’re jealous of how much profit the guild makes off adventurers.

"Tch." Ethan clicked his tongue but handed over the money.

Then, as if remembering, he said aloud, "We’d also like to register a party name."

The receptionist looked up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "A party name? That’s rare. Very well—it’ll be another gold."

Ethan winced so hard his shoulders hunched. "...They never stop bleeding us dry, do they?"

Ignoring his grumbling, he prepared to say the name he had in mind—Orion Dynamics—but something tugged at his consciousness. A whisper. His tongue felt heavy.

"...Arkhaval..." he murmured under his breath, eyes briefly unfocused.

"Ethan?" Lirael tilted her head, concern threading her voice.

He blinked as if shaken from a trance. A strange chill crawled across his skin, and yet... the name resonated. It fit.

"Arkhaval’s Eternal Eclipse," he declared.

The moment the words left his mouth, the air shifted. For a heartbeat, it felt as if unseen eyes opened somewhere above, watching and probing. A shiver ran down his spine before the sensation vanished just as abruptly. Ethan scanned the hall, but everyone was going about their business, oblivious.

The receptionist, unfazed, simply nodded and made her careful entry. "Party name registered. Congratulations."

"Were did you get that?"

"...Sounds good," Lirael said with an approving smile.

"Yes... it’s nice," Sylvie added shyly, eyes soft.

Ethan rolled his shoulders, pushing away the uneasy weight that lingered in his chest. "Good enough."

With the formalities done, the three of them turned toward the quest board, the heavy parchment notices fluttering slightly under the draft of an opening door. Ethan’s eyes scanned the wall of opportunities, his mind already moving toward the next step.

The parchment quest notice was brief:

Mission: Orc Subjugation (B-rank)

Location: Abandoned cave near the northern ridge

Threat: 8 confirmed orcs

Objective: Kill them and bring back proof of subjugation

Reward: 2 gold, plus any spoils recovered

Ethan tore the slip from the board and handed it to the receptionist, who stamped the guild seal with a firm thunk.

"Best of luck," she said with a faintly strained smile. Few people took B-ranked missions so casually.

---

The afternoon sun dipped lower as they reached the rocky ridge where the cave mouth yawned like a wound in the cliffside. A faint stench of sweat and rancid meat drifted from within.

"There." Ethan’s sharp eyes caught the lumbering forms first—four orcs loitering outside the cave, their mottled green hides glistening with grime, tusked mouths chewing on raw strips of meat.

Ethan snapped his fingers. Two spectral soldiers materialized at Sylvie’s side, shields and spears in hand, their ghostly armor humming faintly with mana.

"You two—protect her," he commanded, his tone ironclad.

Then, he brought out his blade, he unsheathed it.

SCREEEECH!

The Dark Duskfang let out a shrill, metallic cry that echoed unnaturally across the rocks. Ethan’s brows furrowed as the weapon writhed in his grip, its blackened steel glowing with crimson veins along the edge. The weapon pulsed, alive.

A window flickered before his eyes:

---

[Inspect: Crimson Duskfang]

Type: Weapon Artifact – Rank A (Growth Type)

Description: A cursed blade that feasts upon blood. With every enemy slain, it absorbs vitality, sharpening its edge beyond mortal steel. The absorbed blood converts into stamina for its wielder, fueling relentless slaughter. As a growth-type artifact, it will evolve in step with its master’s ascent.

Perk: Restoration – A portion of stamina for user and durability of weapon is restored for each kill proportional to the blood absorbed.

---

Ethan’s lips curved into a grin. "So that’s how it is... This thing evolves with me. With this, I can—"

"Ethan!" Lirael’s sharp voice cut through his awe. "You idiot! The noise drew their attention!"

The orcs snarled, their piggish yellow eyes locking onto him. They roared, stomping forward with crude cleavers raised.

"Too late," Ethan muttered, but there was no fear in his voice. Only anticipation.

One orc raised its weapon—an arrow whistled past Ethan’s cheek. Thunk! The creature collapsed, Lirael’s shaft buried in its throat.

Another raised its cleaver to block, splintering the shaft of her second arrow.

But Ethan was already there. With a single flowing motion, he swung his evolving blade.

Shhhhlick!

Two heads flew free of their bodies, blood spraying across the rocks in a steaming arc. The Crimson Duskfang drank it eagerly, the red markings pulsing brighter as Ethan exhaled, vitality rushing back into his limbs.

He laughed. "This feels amazing! Hahaha—"

The fourth orc, wide-eyed, dropped its weapon and turned to flee. Lirael’s third arrow cut through the air, striking it square in the back. The beast toppled, twitching.

The silence that followed was broken only by the drip of blood on stone.

---

Orc (Lv.24) slain — 15,000 XP

Orc (Lv.23) slain — 14,500 XP

Subordinate contribution — 27,500 SP

Total SP : 63,560(57,000+6,560)

Level 11 - 168,135 / 179,030

---

Ethan wiped the blade on a fallen orc’s ragged cloth, smirking. "With gains like this, we won’t be waiting long before our saintess joins us."

"Ethan!" Lirael’s voice was sharp with reprimand. She stalked up to him, eyes narrowed. "What exactly was that? You nearly blew our cover."

He raised both hands innocently. "Ahh, sorry. Looks like my weapon decided to upgrade."

Her brows arched. "Another cheat of yours?"

"Hehe. Right."

Before she could retort, Sylvie tugged on Ethan’s sleeve. Her expression was troubled.

"Master... weren’t there supposed to be eight orcs? We’ve only slain four."

As if in answer, a long, guttural howl echoed from the nearby forest covering. The sound made the small birds fly away.

Lirael nocked another arrow, her eyes sharpening. "Looks like we have something new here."

Ethan’s grin widened, blade thrumming hungrily in his grip. "Good. I can practice more."