CHAPTER 238: GO GET STRONGER

Kael awoke to the soft sound of an ethereal bell. For a brief moment, he didn’t know where he was. The ceiling above him was made of living stone and enchanted moss that exuded a faint scent of mint. The walls seemed to breathe, as if the entire room were a sleeping creature.

He blinked slowly, trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night. The grimoire, Raven, the unexpected bite in the bath—he shuddered—and finally, the strange room in the magical "motel."

He sat up in bed and looked around. The room was spotless. No sign of Elion. Not even a trace of magic. Only silence.

"Of course..." he muttered, scratching his messy hair. "She left me."

He got up slowly, feeling heavy but rested. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before — a practical combination of light armor and traveling tunics — but there was no sign of his belongings. Backpack? Gone. Coin purse? Non-existent. Weapons? Nothing but a small dagger tucked into his boot.

He walked to the bedroom door, opening it carefully. There was no one in the hallway. Just a light breeze blowing with the scent of incense and lavender.

On a small table outside, there was a scroll sealed with a magical clasp in the shape of a black flower—unmistakable. It was drenched with Elion’s energy. It could only be hers.

Kael sighed deeply before picking up the note. When he touched it, the seal crumbled into particles of light and the message began to write itself, in dancing handwriting that seemed to mock him with every curve.

"You probably woke up and are looking for me. Well, I’d say it’s better for me to go out there and for you to learn to be a big girl. This city is good for making friends and developing yourself better. Please don’t come home until you’re stronger. Love, Mom."

Kael stared at the note for a long second.

"...Really?"

As if that weren’t enough, more words began to appear just below. A magical postscrip

"P.S.: I’m going to go to those girls and train them in the basics so they can become strong. I know you have a pact with Yggdrasil, so I’ll help out temporarily by protecting Sylphie. Reach a sufficient level of strength. You have two years!"

He read the last part aloud, his tone increasingly incredulous. "You have two years? What do you mean?!"

The ink stopped moving. The note lay motionless, as if it had fulfilled its mission. Kael looked around, hoping it was a joke, that she would jump out from behind a door or appear from the ceiling with more magic-laden sarcasm.

Nothing.

"She really left... and abandoned me." He left the note on the table, frustrated. "What did I do to deserve such neglect?"

The silence answered for her.

He checked the pockets of his tunic. Empty. He searched the small dresser in the room. Not a coin, not a magic apple, not an emergency spell. Just his body, his mind, and that insolent note.

"No money, no food, no plan, no dignity..." he muttered. "Life after reincarnation has really turned into complete chaos."

He walked around the room once more, trying to find any crumb of resource. There was not even a spare mana ring, not even a minor grimoire. Nothing. Literally thrown into the world.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His appearance was worthy of the protagonist of an epic tragedy: disheveled hair, wrinkled clothes, eyes that had seen too much corruption for his age, and an expression somewhere between sarcasm and despair.

"So that’s it, huh?" he said to his reflection. "My mother abandoned me in an unfamiliar city, with orders not to return until I was strong enough. Classic."

The mirror did not respond—which, for some reason, offended him even more.

Kael sat down on the floor, crossing his arms. "All right. Okay. You want me to grow up, right, Elion? You want me to fend for myself? Fine. I’ll figure it out."

A magical cricket chirped outside the window, as if mocking him.

"...eventually."

He stood up with a resigned sigh. The first step was to leave that motel. The second was to figure out how to survive in a magical city where he knew no one and had nothing to offer but his own name—which wasn’t even that famous outside of arcane circles.

"Good morning, chaos," he muttered to himself, leaving the room with the slow gait of someone who has accepted his fate but still dreams of punching the universe in the stomach.

The day was just beginning when Kael descended the motel steps, feeling the gentle warmth of the magical sun filtered through crystals suspended in the city sky. The street before him was bustling with merchants, travelers, and enchanted creatures of all kinds moving between tents, floating carriages, and shops carved from living stone.

He let out a long sigh, his tenth that morning.

"One day... just one day without nonsense would be too much to ask?"

Kael had taken no more than three steps outside the motel before he heard screams coming from a nearby store. He turned his head and saw the source of the commotion: a huge man—over six feet tall and with enough muscle to intimidate a lesser troll—was leaning over a petite weapons saleswoman.

She was no more than five feet tall, wore a dark leather apron covered in soot, and had a stern expression that only partially hid her boredom with the argument.

"YOU’RE RIPPING ME OFF, YOU DAMN DWARF!" roared the man, his face contorted with rage. "THIS SWORD IS WORTH HALF THAT! I’M NOT AN IDIOT!"

"Yes, clearly you’re not..." replied the woman, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. "But maybe you should try acting like an adult, not a drunken boar."

Some people around them backed away with worried expressions. The tension between the two was about to explode—and Kael, for some reason he couldn’t explain, walked into the center of the scene with his hands in his pockets and an expression of absolute impatience.

He stopped next to the brute and looked directly at the saleswoman.

"Hey... how much is that sword your buddy wants?"

She didn’t even blink. "One silver coin. Fixed price. Tempered runic steel, balanced for quick combat. No built-in curse — at least not this time."

Kael nodded. "Fair enough."

The man next to him flushed with indignation.

"HEY! Who do you think you are, sticking your nose into MY business?! You think you can just show up here out of nowhere and steal my sword?!"

Kael turned slowly, staring at the man with the weary air of someone who has fought the undead, demons, and temperamental mothers.

"First... I didn’t steal anything. I just asked a simple question. Second..." he looked the guy up and down with a mocking smirk "...just because your dick is tiny, you don’t have to compensate with that fucking arrogance."

The silence was absolute.

The crowd around them held their breath.

The man turned red. Not just red with anger, but with humiliation. It was as if the world had stopped for a second just to absorb the offense.

"YOU’LL REGRET SAYING THAT!" he shouted, pulling the sword from the counter with violence.

The people around him screamed, throwing themselves back in fear of what was to come. The blade came down like lightning toward Kael, fast and furious. A real weapon, sharp and powerful.

But Kael... didn’t even move.

The blade stopped a few inches from his face.

Held between the index finger and thumb of his right hand. As if it were a wooden stick.

The crowd gasped. Even the saleswoman raised an eyebrow.

Kael looked at the sword trapped between his fingers and then at the thug, with a slightly irritated expression of boredom.

"There. Now I can interfere."

And then, with a simple twist of his wrist, he twisted the blade so hard that it broke in half like old porcelain. The sound of shattering steel echoed through the street like muffled thunder.

The man staggered backward, holding the empty hilt with eyes wide with sheer terror.

"W-who... who are you?!"

Kael took a step forward, and for the first time, his magical presence leaked out a little—like a slowly rising tide. Nothing visual yet, but the air around him changed. The pressure grew denser. The streetlights flickered slightly.

"I’m just someone who was abandoned by a psychopathic mother and needs a new sword."

The man stumbled and ran off without saying another word, nearly knocking over a cart of potions on his way. The crowd laughed nervously. The tension dissipated.

Kael sighed once more. "Why does it always fall to me?"

The saleswoman watched him with sharp eyes, evaluating every inch of him—not with lust, but with the coldness of a blacksmith who knows how to recognize rare material.

"You have condensed mana in your veins... that’s not common."

Kael turned to her. "Not at all. I’m a walking disaster, according to my mother. But anyway... do you still have that sword?"

She pointed to an identical version of the broken weapon on a shelf nearby. "One silver coin, as I said."

Kael reached into his pocket... and remembered.

"...I don’t have a single copper coin."

The blacksmith raised an eyebrow. "...Then why did you ask the price?!"

"Instinct. Basic manners. Maybe hope."

She snorted and crossed her arms. "Name?"

"Kael."

"Family?"

"Scarlet."

The woman’s eyes widened and she immediately seemed a little more tense. "Q-q-q-q-q-q-queen of witches!!"

"Yes, my grandmother, nice to meet you," Kael said calmly.

The saleswoman stared at him for a long time, then finally sighed and took the sword from the shelf, placing it in front of him.

"All right. Consider this an investment. If you die, I inherit the weapon back."

Kael blinked. "Wow... that was kind. Kind of dark, but kind."

"It’s the best you’re going to get in this town."

He picked up the sword and twirled it lightly in the air. The balance was perfect. Light, but sturdy. Ideal for his hybrid fighting style.

"Thank you—"

"Get out of here before I change my mind."