CHAPTER 202: CHAPTER 202 – RETURN TO THE CASTLE

The air in the room felt frozen and still when Sylvia opened her eyes. Awareness came slowly, like mist pushed away by the morning wind only here, there was no wind, no morning. Her gaze settled on the gray stone ceiling, the thin cracks in its surface the only decoration it offered.

She drew a long breath. No scent of wet earth, no birdsong, no rustle of leaves, only the faint metallic tang from the magic circle in the center of the room, still pulsing softly with blue light, like the heartbeat of some sleeping giant.

"...How long was I asleep?" she murmured, her voice rasping into the silence.

No one answered. In a dungeon, time was an illusion; without the sun, day and night were only guesses. For the permanent residents’ monsters, traps, or the lingering fragments of trapped souls it might not matter at all.

She sat on the edge of her bed, pulled a bottle of water from her system storage, and drank deeply. The cold water slapped at her throat, sweeping the last threads of fog from her mind.

After a few minutes letting her body remember that she was still alive, Sylvia rose. Her movements were slow but steady, like someone who had just crossed a narrow ledge over a bottomless drop and was now looking back at the far side.

Her gown was full of scuffs, though the blood that had once stained it had long dried. The chains at her waist were neatly coiled again, their surface dulled from the heavy drain of energy yesterday. Thankfully, the gown’s auto-repair effect meant she wouldn’t have to bother fixing it herself.

She made herself presentable enough: running her fingers through her long black hair, smoothing the folds of her clothes, checking that all her gear was in its place. No mirror, but she knew her own face well enough including any trace of dried blood that might linger at the corner of her mouth.

Only then did her steps carry her toward the teleportation circle.

"All right," she exhaled softly, as if speaking to herself. "That’s the Tower of Echoes done."

SWIINGG!

A burst of blue light flared beneath her feet, and the world shifted.

In an instant, the stifling stone chamber was gone, replaced by open air against her face warm, fresh. Before her stood the entrance gate of the Tower of Echoes, looming high like the mouth of some great beast, gazing coldly at all who dared enter.

Sylvia narrowed her eyes, tilting her head back to the sky. The sun was already high, bathing the land in golden light a stark contrast to the darkness inside the tower. She lingered a moment, letting the light touch her skin.

"...Feels good," she murmured, releasing a heavy breath. Not just relief from fresh air, but the realization that luck had been on her side this time.

The Ancient Titan, the swing of its axe, the collapsing floors they were still vivid in her mind. And though she’d won, she knew the victory had been far too thin. A single thread had kept her from a different ending.

"Next time..." She looked at the gate again, her eyes dimly alight. "...don’t get cocky, Sylvia. Bring the others. Celes, or Stacia and Alicia. No more going in alone for bosses like that."

She turned away from the gate, following the cobblestone path down toward the small lake at the base of the hill. The soft splash of water on the surface was a warm welcome after days of nothing but the rattle of chains and the rumble of battle.

Sylvia crouched at the water’s edge, letting her fingers brush the surface. It was naturally cold, the kind that washed away dust and weariness. She cupped her hands, lifted the water, and splashed her face.

The first wash made her close her eyes, letting the coolness sweep away the last heat of battle. The second made her breathe in deeply, as if her body remembered that the world was far wider than the cramped space of the sixtieth floor.

She looked at her reflection in the water pale face, red eyes still sharp, but now edged with a fatigue she couldn’t quite hide. A faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Still alive. That’s enough."

She stood, letting the drops fall from her chin back into the lake, then turned onto the path toward her castle.

Her pace was unhurried. The air beyond the city carried the scent of grass and dry earth, warmed by the sun. From time to time, flocks of birds crossed overhead, their shadows gliding over the ground.

In the distance, she could already picture the castle towers rising in a place where reports from her scouts were no doubt piling up on her desk, waiting for her signature. And Celes... she was certain the girl would be worried sick, even if she’d hide it behind her usual calm mask.

"Well, Celes, get ready. I’ve got a long story this time," she murmured, letting that faint smile linger a little longer.

She didn’t speed her steps. Every meter of this journey felt like a fitting closure after the Tower of Echoes, a quiet ending, rare for her.

In her mind, the image of the Ancient Titan was still there. The broad back, the golden glow, the final roar... and then the bow, the words Greetings, my queen. The absurdity of it almost made her laugh again just thinking about it.

"Zombie Titan," she muttered with a shake of her head. "Might be the castle’s newest legend."

The sky was fading into a dusky purple when Sylvia was only halfway to the castle. The evening breeze had turned cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and a faint trace of smoke from far-off villages. She glanced upward, realizing the sun had already slipped behind the trees.

"...If I push it, I’ll get there well past midnight," she said under her breath.

In the distance, warm yellow lights began to bloom signs of a settlement. She quickened her pace, following the dirt road as it gave way to stone, until a wooden town gate came into view. Two guards stood in front, spears in hand, light wool cloaks draped over their shoulders.

As always, entry meant an identity check. One guard stepped forward, raising a hand to stop her.

"Good evening, miss. Please show your identification or guild card."

Sylvia produced her guild card, its bronze surface gleaming faintly in the lamplight, the engraved Rank B emblem clear to see. The guard examined it briefly, then looked back at her this time with a hint of respect.

"You may enter, Miss Rank B. We don’t often see hunters of your rank passing through here," he said, signaling to his partner to open the side gate.

Before stepping in, Sylvia tilted her head slightly. "If I may ask, any recommendations for a comfortable inn?"

The guard smiled, pointing down the town’s main road. "The Silver Moon Inn, miss. Right in the center, near the night market. Two stories high, with a silver moon sign above the door. The owner’s friendly, the food’s good, and the rooms are clean."

Sylvia nodded faintly. "Thank you."

Once through the gate, she found the small town warm and alive. Oil lamps hung at every street corner, casting soft light over damp stone roads. The air was rich with scents, spices, roasting meat, and the faint sweetness of market pastries.

Despite the directions, she didn’t head straight to the inn. Her feet wandered, letting her take in the atmosphere. She passed stalls selling trinkets, a carpenter still working in his shop, and children laughing in the side alleys.

Before long, the aroma of skewers grilling over charcoal caught her attention. She stopped before a simple stand with a wooden sign reading Three-Spice Skewers. The vendor, a middle-aged man in a brown apron, was turning the sticks, a thin, tempting smoke rising.

"Evening, miss. Care for some of our spice skewers? Fresh off the grill," he said warmly.

Sylvia gave a small smile. "Sure. Five skewers, please."

She sat on a wooden bench out front. The night breeze carried the scent of caramelizing meat. When the skewers were served on a wooden plate, she took a bite immediately. The savory-sweet spice spread across her tongue, the warmth sinking deep into her tired body.

As she enjoyed the second skewer, she asked, "Sir, where exactly is the Silver Moon Inn?"

The man gestured with his skewer toward a branching road at the end of the stall row. "Follow the main road until you see the bird statue in the roundabout, then turn right. Two buildings down, you’ll see a big silver moon sign. Can’t miss it."

Sylvia nodded, finishing the rest of her food in quiet contentment. "Thank you. I’ll head there after this."

The man chuckled. "Perfect timing. The owner loves chatting with hunters and says they’ve got the best stories."

Sylvia only answered with a faint smile.

She finished her last skewer slowly, letting the flavor fade before sipping the warm water he’d served. Her body felt lighter food always had a way of quietly erasing leftover fatigue.

Placing a few silver coins on the counter enough for the food plus a tip she said, "Thank you. Those were excellent."

The man’s grin widened. "Thank you, miss. Enjoy your stay in our town."

With an easy stride, Sylvia followed his directions. The main road was quiet now, with only the occasional passing carriage. Oil lamps hung neatly on the posts, casting golden reflections across the damp stone.

Before long, she reached the small roundabout with its bronze bird statue wings half spread as if ready to fly. Turning right, she soon spotted the unmistakable sign: a large silver moon with fine engraving around its edge, hanging above the door of a two-story building.

The Silver Moon Inn was well-kept, its pale limestone walls framed by dark wood windows. Warm light spilled through sheer curtains, and the faint sound of string music drifted from inside.

Sylvia pushed open the heavy wooden door. A small bell chimed overhead. The gentle scent of lavender and cedar filled her lungs, a deliberate, calming choice.

Behind the counter, a neatly bun-haired, gray-haired woman greeted her with a warm smile. Her deep green eyes shone with welcome.

"Good evening, miss. Looking for a room?"

"Yes," Sylvia replied softly but firmly. "One night, please."

The woman nodded, pulling out a large ledger and a quill. "Would you prefer a room with or without a balcony?"

"With," Sylvia answered without hesitation she liked the night air.

"Very well. Three silver coins for the night, including dinner and breakfast. Will that be acceptable?"

Sylvia took a gold coin from her system storage and handed it over. "That’s fine."

Accepting the payment with a nod, the woman fetched a key marked with the number 12 from the rack. "Here you are. Your room is on the second floor, at the end of the left corridor. If you need anything, pull the bell rope beside the door. Dinner is served in the dining hall until midnight."

Sylvia took the key. "Thank you."

Her footsteps were quiet along the wooden floor, the boards giving a soft rhythm as she climbed the stairs. Framed paintings of moonlit forests and lakes lined the hallway.

Room 12 was exactly as described. Inside, the space was warm and inviting: a large bed with crisp white sheets, a thick quilt, and soft pillows. A small table held a vase of fresh flowers whose scent blended perfectly with the lavender in the air. Heavy curtains framed the window leading to a small balcony, where moonlight poured in.

She set her ,mantle on the chair and stepped out to the balcony. From here, the small town lay calm below, its lights like stars fallen to earth. The night air brushed her face, cool and clean.

For the first time in days, she felt truly in the normal world again no roars, no killing light, no scent of blood. Just a peaceful night.

She closed her eyes briefly, exhaling. "Tomorrow... I’ll go home," she whispered to herself. Tonight, she would let her body rest completely.