Chapter 129
As it turned out, the guild agreed to give an additional reward without much resistance.
Rayne had expected some pushback. He had gone in ready to argue, already thinking of what points he would raise to justify a higher payment, but none of that had been needed. The receptionist had gone through his verbal report on what transpired, counted the lycan ears, noted the extra corpse, and then simply nodded.
They were almost too reasonable about it.
For completing the quest, eliminating far more lycans than expected, and bringing back proof along with an additional body, the guild raised the reward without delay. The original amount was of fifty gold coins, along with a share from whatever materials they managed to recover from the lycan bodies.
Rayne hadn’t brought back any pelts himself. They were already dragging back the corpses after all, and there were just too many lycan corpses, but the guild assured him they would send a team the next day to collect whatever could still be salvaged. The fur of the unburnt lycans alone would fetch a decent price, and whatever came out of it would be recorded under his name.
Either way, even without that, the original reward was readily increased to seventy gold coins.
Rayne had still tried to push for more, if only to try to get as much out of the guild as possible, but the receptionist had simply shaken her head and told him plainly that he was already being compensated more than fairly, especially considering he wasn’t even a registered guild member.
Rayne didn’t push further after that. He was already satisfied with the outcome.
Taking the pouch of gold, he left the guild and returned to the longhouse without delay. The exhaustion of the day finally caught up to him once he was alone, and he didn’t waste time before sleeping.
His party, on the other hand, returned much later.
By the time Rayne woke up the next morning, they were just making their way back, clearly having spent the entire night drinking. Their voices were louder than usual, their movements slower, but the moment they saw the gold waiting for them, whatever fatigue they carried seemed to disappear.
They were far too pleased. Rayne didn’t say much as he handed over their share.
Some of them were already talking about where they would spend it, and he could tell that at least a portion of it would be gone within a day or two, but he didn't say anything.
They were soldiers. No one among them knew which monster or blade would take their head when, and if they chose to spend their coin on a night of comfort instead of saving it, that was their decision.
The days that followed after that in the city were… quiet.
For the first time in a while, Rayne found himself without immediate pressure. He had gotten the skill he needed, and that alone lifted a weight from his mind. The looming truthsayer trial no longer felt like an unavoidable execution.
Now, it was something he could prepare for.
He spent part of his time resting, letting his body fully recover, but he didn’t remain completely idle. He met Casper more than once, discussing mana cultivation, skill control, and the kind of challenges he might face once they reached Valers.
Casper didn’t hold back when she spoke about the capital. Valers wasn’t just the center of power, it was a place filled with nobles of all kinds. Most families had estates there, and even those who didn’t had connections that allowed them to stay.
Along with that came academies, training grounds, and circles of influence that gathered the most talented and privileged individuals from across the kingdom.
To these nobles, Rayne would be akin to a fat rat they could crush for some influence. Casper made that very clear.
She warned him more than once to be careful, to watch how he acted and who he was talking to, especially since they had no idea how long they would remain in the capital.
Rayne listened, but he didn’t let it weigh on him too much. There was no point in worrying about battles that hadn’t happened yet.
For now, only the truthsayer trial mattered. Everything else would come after that.
And the day of the trial also arrived soon.
The night before, he barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, thoughts crept in, each one worse than the last. He knew most of it was just his mind running ahead, imagining outcomes that were unlikely to happen, but that didn’t stop it from affecting him. Even when he did manage to fall asleep, his dreams offered no rest. More than once, he found himself standing in front of a crowd, the same way the rest of the Fraysers had, waiting to be executed.
It was irrational, and he knew it, but fear didn’t always follow logic. By the time he finally gave up on sleeping, the sun hadn’t even risen yet.
Instead of lying there, he got up.
Rayne stepped out into the quiet streets and began running. The city was still half-asleep, with only a few early risers moving about, and the cool air helped clear his head a little. He ran without a set path, letting his legs carry him through empty streets and open spaces until the tension in his chest eased just enough.
When he returned to the longhouse, he didn’t rest.
Instead, he moved to the training area at the back. The place had a lot of different weapons laid out for training, and Rayne picked up an axe without much thought.
It felt unfamiliar in his hands at first, heavier and more uneven than a sword, but not for long.
He began to swing.
At first, the movements were simple, almost rough, but as he continued, something shifted. The weight of the weapon became easier to manage, and his grip adjusted naturally without him needing to think about it. It was as if his body already understood what to do.
That was the effect of [Weapon Mastery].
Until now, he had barely focused on it, choosing instead to improve his mana-based skills, but he knew it was his most flexible skill.
The moment it came into effect, he could feel the advantage it gave him. He knew where to place his hands, how to angle the blade, and how much force to use in each swing.
It wasn’t perfect, not even close to someone like Jason’s mastery of the axe, but it was enough.
For a soldier, this kind of adaptability was invaluable.
Bran had always stressed that a good soldier should know how to use every weapon.
Until now, that had remained more of an idea than a practice. Their days had been filled with quests, marches, and battles, leaving little time to train beyond what they already relied on.
Rayne had stuck to his sword and shield, learning more sword styles instead of spreading his focus. But now, he wanted to change that.
He had no intention of abandoning his main weapons. A sword and shield suited him best, and he had grown comfortable with them, but basic proficiency with other weapons could only help him. In a desperate situation, he might not have the luxury of choosing what he fought with, and being able to adapt could make the difference between survival and death.
So he continued swinging the axe.
Each motion became a little smoother than the last. His grip adjusted without conscious effort, his stance shifting naturally as he got a better feel for the balance and weight. It was still far from perfect, but he was improving faster than he would have without [Weapon Mastery].
He kept at it until the quiet of the longhouse began to break.
One by one, soldiers started waking up. Voices filled the air, footsteps echoed through the halls, and the calm of the early morning faded into the usual noise. Rayne knew he wouldn’t be able to continue much longer, and he was right.
Before he could get another proper set of swings in, Captain Edran gathered the entire warband. They had already been told to pack the day before, so there was no delay. Within minutes, everyone was ready to move.
Some of the men were clearly annoyed.
A few muttered under their breath, their sleep cut short after a long night of drinking, but Rayne paid them no attention. It didn’t matter. They weren’t marching all the way to the capital on foot anyway.
Though, there was one notable absence in their ranks. Axel wasn’t with them.
Rayne hadn’t even realized it until Hobbs mentioned it in passing two days back. Apparently, Axel had already left the day after they arrived in Haven City, heading straight to House Lanrice.
From what Hobbs said, he had been in a hurry, eager to make a good impression on the house he would now serve till his last day.
Rayne didn’t think much of it, and the whole squad looked happier without him.
The warband made its way through the streets in a steady formation. The city was still waking up, and the few people already out stopped to watch them pass. A group of armoured men always drew attention after all.
They crossed a few streets before turning toward the count’s estate.
Instead of the main building, Captain Edran led them toward a smaller mansion within the grounds. The guards stationed there didn’t question them. They stepped aside immediately, allowing the group to pass through without delay.
Rayne followed with the others as they moved deeper inside. When they reached the back of the mansion, he saw a small group standing there.
Mage Seraphel was the easiest to recognize. The man’s age showed clearly, but there was nothing weak about him. He wore deep blue robes embroidered with fine patterns, and several rings adorned his fingers, each one likely holding some form of magic. Around his neck hung a heavy-looking necklace that stood out even among the rest of his attire.
Behind him stood three others.
One man and two women, all dressed in simpler robes. They carried themselves with discipline, and Rayne guessed they were his apprentices.
But none of them held his attention for long because behind them was something far more important.
A teleportation circle.
It drew the attention of almost everyone the moment they stepped into the courtyard. Even without being active, it stood out.
A faint purple glow lingered across its surface, the mana gathered within it giving off a steady light that pulsed softly, like something breathing beneath the marble floor.
The circle was massive, easily large enough to fit the entire warband with space to spare. It had been carved directly into polished white marble, the surface smooth except for the intricate network of lines and symbols etched deep into it.
The lines curved and intersected in precise patterns, forming layers upon layers of structure that Rayne couldn’t fully understand. At the outer edge of the circle, entire syllables were carved into the stone, each one sharp and deliberate. They weren’t letters from any language he knew, but he guessed they were in the runic language.
Even without activation, the circle felt… alive in a strange way. Rayne would have kept staring, but a voice soon cut through the air.
“Edran, you are late,” Mage Seraphel said, his tone carrying clear displeasure.
Captain Edran stepped forward without hesitation, giving a small bow. “Apologies. The walk here took a few minutes longer.”
The mage snorted lightly, clearly unimpressed. His gaze swept across the warband like he was assessing everyone. It paused briefly on Casper, then shifted again before landing on Rayne.
There was a moment of silence, then Seraphel spoke again. “Is that him? The traitor?”
Rayne felt his jaw tighten slightly at the word.
Before he could react, Captain Edran answered calmly, “Yes. He’s Rayne. I believe the truthsayers should already be waiting for him on the other side. Let’s not delay.”
Mage Seraphel gave a short nod, already losing interest. “Get your men on the circle. No one touches it. Just stand. It will take five minutes, and you will be through.”
Edran turned back immediately. “You heard the mage. Get on it. And if anyone so much as twitches, I will leave you back here.”
At his words, everyone straightened up. The squad leaders moved first, organizing everyone quickly. Hobbs took charge of their squad, guiding them onto the circle without confusion.
Rayne stepped onto the marble slowly, his boots settling against the engraved surface. Up close, the symbols felt even more detailed, and his eyes stayed fixed on them, trying to make sense of the shapes beneath his feet.
But then he felt it. A faint static brushed against his legs.
When he looked up, Mage Seraphel and his apprentices had already taken position around the circle. Their hands were raised, and waves of purple energy flowed between their fingers, moving in a controlled rhythm as they began their incantation.
Rayne didn’t understand a single word. But he couldn’t look away.
The static grew stronger. It climbed from his legs to his torso, spreading across his entire body like a cold current. A chill followed it, sinking deep into his bones.
A few soldiers let out sharp breaths, one or two even gasping, but no one dared move.
Then Casper spoke from somewhere behind him. “Close your eyes now!”
Rayne didn’t question it, and shut them immediately.
The next second, everything twisted.
It felt like the world flipped over itself. A wave of nausea hit him hard, his stomach turning violently as if he had been thrown through the air. His limbs felt stretched, pulled in directions they shouldn’t go, but there was no pain, only a strange, disorienting pressure.
Then it stopped abruptly, and Rayne immediately felt something rough beneath him as he fell, but the static slowly left him.
When he slowly opened his eyes, he saw the circle still beneath him, but everything else had changed.
The open courtyard was gone. In its place stood a large enclosed chamber, stone walls rising around them. The air felt heavier here, and the faint glow of torches lit the space.
Around them stood dozens of men in crimson armour.
Before Rayne could even process it fully, one of the soldiers stepped forward sharply, his voice cutting through the room.
“Who among you is Rayne Frayser?!”