"Trust issues," Grey replied simply as he paid for the rusted sword.
Achilles stared at the dark-haired boy in disbelief, as if he were seeing him for the first time.
What does that even mean? Just yesterday he talked to me like I was his closest friend. He asked me to watch his back and keep an eye on the training. And now he's saying he can't trust me.
Did the cultists scare him that much? Is he trying to distance himself from us now? Is he afraid they'll catch me and I'll reveal his "real hideout"? Or is he upset because I refused to become his subordinate?
Achilles curled his lips in contempt.
The moment Grey said those words, he stopped looking like a dependable and honorable leader. The doubts Achilles had managed to suppress since their first meeting came rushing back stronger than ever.
Maybe he's just using my brothers? Raising them into real mercenaries, while staying ready to cut all ties the moment things get out of control?
The longer he thought about it, the more reasonable those suspicions seemed.
Of course, Grey had no idea what Achilles was thinking.
Although Junior had nothing against the overly charismatic blond, Achilles was not someone he trusted.
Ever since childhood, Junior had been a withdrawn person. He had long convinced himself that people feared and hated him. Around those closest to him, he could speak freely and share whatever was on his mind. But with people he barely knew, he preferred to hide behind a cold mask and answer only what was necessary.
Reading the mood, making friends, understanding other people's emotions... none of that came naturally to him. There was a reason he had spent half a year failing Blind Grandpa's test, while his sister had passed it with ease.
Back in the Village of the Forsaken, where barely a dozen people lived, that personality had never caused any problems. But the moment he stepped into the outside world, it turned into an endless source of trouble.
That was exactly why the people in the slave camp had disliked him as well. Overseers, children, adults... every one of them either avoided him or made him the target of their bullying. In all those months, he had only grown close to Sheryl and Lily, and that was only because the three of them had been locked inside the same cell.
Junior wasn't the type who could lie through his teeth.
He remembered Senior's warning, so he answered Achilles honestly without giving much thought to the fact that his bluntness might offend him.
Even so, they continued searching the market, hoping to find more weapons they could use against the cultists.
At the moment, Grey had three artifacts close to the Gold Rank hidden inside his Bottomless Pocket, all of them carried over from the days of the Village of the Forsaken. A standard karambit dagger, the Gladius sword he used most often, and the Silent Killer bow, crafted from the tendons of the fourth-rank Wind Wolf that Grace had slain.
Ever since Senior had taken over the teenagers' training, he had been buying every weapon he could get his hands on.
Over the past few days, he had managed to acquire several decent knives, a spiked club, a Bronze Rank sword, and two Silver Rank sabers. Each of them had cost thirty silver coins, and Senior was extremely proud of that purchase.
But it still wasn't enough to stand against a group of Merciful Flame's Cult members.
In Eridania, where martial arts flourished, magical weapons were divided into ranks just like cultivation levels. The system was simple and easy to understand.
Bronze Rank belonged to the weapons of mortals. Kitchen knives, steel swords, hunting bows... anything that did not require mana fell into this category.
Rudiarii (1), Legionaries (2), and Centurions (3) preferred Silver Rank artifacts if they wanted to maximize their strength. Mana could be infused into such weapons to enhance their properties.
This was the most sought-after class of weapon across the entire world, since half of all people would never reach the Saint stage. Because of that, finding one without the right connections was extremely difficult, especially in a poor city like Thorn's Cloaca.
No local lord in his right mind would allow such weapons to be sold freely within his territory. They were valuable strategic resources and an important guarantee of security.
Only the military and the nobility had official permission to trade Silver Rank artifacts.
How could it be otherwise? They had to keep their subjects under control and prevent rebellions.
That was why Senior Grey, despite the expense, was so proud of the fact that he had managed to get his hands on two Silver Rank sabers.
Those who reached the Saint stage, Saint Adepts (4), Saint Apostles (5), and Saint Arbiters (6), had to put in tremendous effort to find a blacksmith capable of forging a Gold Rank artifact.
Once they stepped into that realm, their bodies underwent a fundamental transformation. Silver Rank artifacts could no longer keep up with the power of their mana, so upgrading their weapons was no longer a luxury but an absolute necessity.
Weapons of that level were considered strategic assets even for an entire Empire, while any master craftsman capable of forging them was treated with the utmost respect wherever they went.
That alone showed just how valuable Grey's weapons were, considering they had been forged by Grandpa Clark with his level of skill. The materials alone could have been worth several gold coins.
What about the Sky-dwellers?
Information about weapons beyond that level was considered classified and completely inaccessible to ordinary people.
Grey only knew because he had studied under the greatest experts at the Sky-dweller level. How many people could ever claim such an honor?
Sky-dwellers of the First, Second, and Third Heaven wielded Rare Rank weapons, assuming they could even find one.
Those who reached the Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Heaven dreamed of Epic Rank artifacts.
And what about the strongest of them? Those who had reached the Seventh, Eighth, or even Ninth Heaven? They also used Epic Rank artifacts.
Only rulers, the most devoted high priests, and the mightiest experts could lay their hands on Legendary Rank weapons. Calling such an artifact a national treasure would not have been an exaggeration. According to rumor, even the almighty gods were limited to Legendary Rank weapons.
Across all of Eridania, only one person was known to be capable of forging such weapons: Hephaestus. The legendary God of Blacksmiths, revered by every race and every pantheon.
Remembering that, Grey gently brushed the Bottomless Pocket where Artemis's Arrow rested. Grandpa Clark had estimated it to be a quasi-Legendary Rank artifact. The arrow could only be used once, but it was the kind of treasure that could save a life.
It had been a gift from a priestess of Artemis whom the family met in the Province of the Endless Forests while fleeing their pursuers from Lutetia. Even Catherine had not realized how precious those arrows were at first. One could only imagine her shock when Grandpa Clark revealed their true rank.
A complete stranger they had met by chance had given the twins something so incredibly valuable. Such generosity went far beyond ordinary kindness.
With his confidence restored, Grey looked at Achilles and said,
"We're ready. Time to move."
"How many can we arm?" Achilles asked, unable to imagine what had just been going through Grey's mind.
"Seven fully equipped fighters. The rest will have kitchen knives."
"Not much..."
Grey frowned.
He knew Achilles was telling the truth and thought exactly the same himself, but it still wasn't pleasant to hear those words from someone who, just a few days ago, had been starving on the outskirts of the city, hiding like a rat just to survive.
"It's better than nothing," he replied shortly.
"True enough." Achilles nodded.
That was the end of their conversation.
The threat of the cultists weighed heavily on the two boys, leaving them tense and on edge.
No matter how composed Grey and Achilles appeared, they were still just teenagers forced to take responsibility for everyone else. That burden put enormous strain on their minds.
Would they make it in time? What was the best strategy? How could they keep everyone safe? How many of their companions would survive in the end?
Even seasoned veterans could not stop themselves from trembling before a battle. So what could be expected of two teenagers who had only faced death a handful of times?
They wanted to run away and hide. They wanted to ask someone for help. They were afraid of dying too, yet they still had to stay calm and keep everyone's fighting spirit alive.
They ran toward the manor as fast as they could, taking care not to leave any traces. Their eyes swept the surroundings while they listened to every faint sound.
The journey was long, and the heavy bags weighed down their backs.
The fact that Grey and Achilles could still move without making a single sound under such conditions spoke volumes about the quality of their training. Even compared to Reus, who had been raised as an assassin since childhood, they were not inferior.
Fortunately, they reached the old manor without incident.
As the crumbling walls came into view through the thick forest, Grey heard a muffled voice inside his head.
"Are you ready?"
Junior let out a sigh of relief and smiled.
Senior Grey would not be able to play any meaningful role in the coming battle. He simply lacked the necessary skills. Even so, it was comforting to know that he would never have to face it alone.
"Are you nervous?" Junior asked.
"Of course I am. In case you've forgotten, if you die, I die too. So do me a favor and answer my question clearly. Otherwise, I'll take control of the body right now and run as far away as I can. Venus's Embrace is a wonderful place. Safe and comfortable. I'm sure Lady Veronika can protect us. There's absolutely no reason for us to get involved in this madness."
"What about building our own faction? Are you really ready to abandon everyone else?"
Senior did not answer right away.
"As long as you're alive, opportunities will always come. A true gentleman can afford to take revenge even ten years later."
"Seriously? You don't actually believe that. I know what kind of person you are."
"I'm saying there's no shame in retreating. We could move somewhere else and regroup."
"And how long would we keep hiding? How many people could we save? Would they still trust us after something like that?" Junior fired off one question after another, leaving Senior without an answer. He let out a faint, melancholy chuckle before continuing with far more conviction. "There are times when you simply can't retreat. And I don't want to retreat. Even if I'm crippled, I don't want to spend my whole life hiding. Let me choose to fight, just this once."
Senior fell silent.
"Fine. But you have to promise me you'll run if things get out of control. There's a difference between courage and stupid self-sacrifice. If you can promise me that, then I'll help you."
"I promise. But what can you possibly do with your lack of skills?"
"You don't seriously think you'll be able to raise everyone's morale with that stone face of yours, do you?"
This time, Junior was the one left speechless.
"Then I'm counting on you."
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