And I have to go to work tomorrow.
I let out a tired sigh. Since we measured our powers on that platform, somehow everyone knows that I ranked zero in every category. They did not outrightly laugh in my face, but I caught many amused, pitiful or downright mocking stares.
Now, with no protection, I can’t help but think of every little what-if. One shove alone could seriously hurt me.
Elysand, my supervisor has taken a particular interest in me, helping me with any questions I may have and guiding me alongthe way, for which I am very grateful, even though Iknowit also comes from a place of pity.
Thankfully, the workload has been manageable so far. I have my own space within the building where daily, I sift through the SoT warriors and their stats. I only have to check their official stats against a mystical map of the House of Memnon, where each SoT warrior is a blue dot depending on their location. As I’ve been told, the real trouble begins when the blue dot turns into a red one.
Perhaps I should have chosen the Archives position…
But if I did, I wouldn’t have all this new information. I wouldn’t know about ways to advance other than slow, methodical cultivation.
Even if you know about mystical objects and the consumption of Tartareian souls, what can you do about it?My cynical voice asks.
In theory, not much. That doesn’t stop me fromwantingto do it, to do better, to become…stronger. There is danger everywhere, and without father’s spiritual shield, I am extremely vulnerable.
I’ve learned that some of those mystical items are acquired through several means: inheritance, plunder and theft, or sale.
I have not inherited any, I have no capabilities for plunder and theft, so the only other option for me would be…find some for sale.
Elysand explained that those sales are not authorized, so they occur in secrecy. There are certain groups that deal in the sale and trade of such items.
Now I have two problems: find such a group and…
I take out my coin pouch and count myriches. We are paid weekly in the form of fiveslovacoins and twotrava, which means my salary so far amounts to tenslovacoins and fourtrava.
Adding in the other twentyslovacoins I still had from before, I have a total of thirtyslovacoins and fourtrava. Considering a thick winter coat cost me fifteenslovacoins the other day, and my weekly spend for food is about twoslovacoins and onetrava, my total wealth is…a joke.
I sigh and put the money back. I suppose I’ll have to keep working until I have more in savings.
As time goes by and I have to soon leave my house, I get more and more anxious. When the clock on my mantle strikes the time to leave, I’m almost shaking.
It’s fine. It’s fine. I’ll be fine!
Mortals go around their day with innumerable dangers all around. Sometimes they get hurt, sometimes they can die. But they don’t let that stop them. They continue on with their lives despite the latent dangers everywhere.
If a mere mortal can do it, why can’t I?
I hug my thick coat around my body and open the door. Hesitantly, I step out. Itiscold. A little colder from previous days. But as I walk out, nothing happens.
A few more steps, and I take a deep breath. Iamfine.
With renewed vigor, I increase my pace and head to the Central Administration office.
Yet just as I think that I worried for nothing, just a short distance before getting to work, I notice that I’m sneezing continuously.
I frown. Maybe it’s something in the air.
I get through the security at the Central Administration office and the additional screenings at the War Department. By the time I make it to my work console, I am not only sneezing, but my nose is runny, and it feels as if something is stuck in my throat so I constantly try to cough it out.
My skin is burning, and I get lightheaded.
Still, I push through, getting my files in order as I start tracking my assigned SoT warriors. With every second, my symptoms intensify.
“Nykander?”
It takes me a moment to realize someone is calling my name. Between a cough and a sneeze, I respond with a weak, “Yes?”
