Chapter 36 Level Up?

In the recent months, a research paper had shaken the world. It spoke of “transcendence” and something it called a “level up.” The idea was absurd on its face, almost childish, as if the world suddenly decided it wanted to borrow rules from a role-playing game. According to the paper, even an ordinary person could transcend if they killed another lifeform and absorbed its essence. The suggestion alone had thrown nobles, scholars, and adventurers into a frenzy of arguments and back-alley whispers. The paper even claimed that dungeon creatures yielded the best results, however the ‘killing’ had to be done again and again.

I remained skeptical. I had seen what real transcendents looked like from Jandar, Lydia, and even that woman, Ginny. Even I qualified as a transcendent in this world. I’m fairly sure there was no such thing as levelling up. However, recalling the minute experiences of murders I committed. Maybe there was truth in the claim. Lydia insisted we should not dismiss the research so lightly. She even pulled out her subscription to the society of mages, citing them as her reason. I trusted her judgment, but I couldn’t shake the unease of it all.

The controversy spread quickly, louder than wildfire. Preachers denounced the paper as an endorsement of murder, while opportunists whispered about the “shortcut to glory.” Even here in Enmar, I had to clean up after fools who thought they could quit their jobs, run into dungeons, and walk out as demigods. Most never returned. Some did, half-broken, waiting for us to drag their battered bodies out.

But Lydia had another reason for caring.

“Renzo,” she told me one evening, “what if Nira’s trauma is magical in nature? If so, then all our efforts would be in vain… Unless, she awakens. We don’t know the exact reason as to why her trauma was becoming worse and worse. If it is magical nature, it is possible for her to raise her resistance against it if she becomes a transcendent herself. I think trying to ‘level’ her up was not that bad of an idea.”

Her proposal was simple yet terrifying: to heal Nira, we had to make her a transcendent.

I didn’t want to gamble Nira’s life on a theory, but after months of stagnant therapy and no progress, my resistance began to falter. Perhaps this madness was worth a chance.

“Dad, where are we going?” Nira’s small voice cut through my doubts. She sat on the bed as Lydia helped her into traveling clothes. Her tone was sleepy, uncertain, but she looked at me with those wide, trusting eyes.

I forced a smile, even if she couldn’t see the trembling edges behind it. “We are going on an adventure,” I said.

Lydia adjusted Nira’s cloak, tying it gently beneath her chin. The girl looked smaller than ever in those layers of cloth, as though we were preparing her to face a storm. Lydia’s expression was calm, but her hands lingered longer than usual, as if reluctant to let go.

Outside the door, Stabs was already waiting in full gear. He had grown more disciplined these past months, and I noted with quiet relief that he no longer called me “lord.” That was one thing I had been firm about.

“You ready?” I asked.

“Yes, boss,” he replied, giving a curt nod. His daggers was strapped tight, his pack slung over his back.

“Good,” I said, trying to sound steady. “This time we’ll need everyone to pull their weight.”

Lydia maintained the illusion of my body, the magic shimmering faintly whenever I brushed against something physical. Thanks to her spell, I could interact with the world directly, even with Nira holding my hand. She didn’t realize it was an illusion, and I didn’t have the heart to remind her.

We stepped out of the refurbished church, into the quiet morning air. The carriage stood waiting, sturdy enough for a long road. Stabs climbed onto the driver’s seat, taking the reins with the practiced calm of a scout who expected trouble before it came. Lydia settled in beside Nira, staff resting across her lap, while I climbed aboard last, more shadow than passenger.

As the wheels creaked and the horses started forward, I thought about our little arrangement. Stabs as our coachman and scout. Lydia our healer. And me… damage dealer, perhaps. If I were generous with my imagination, we almost resembled a party straight out of the games I used to waste hours on.

Except this wasn’t a game. There were neither save files nor extra lives. I wished I could treat this like the fantasy it sounded like, but I knew better.

And so we left Enmar behind.

The carriage moved at a steady pace, the creak of its wheels and the rhythmic clop of hooves strangely soothing. Stabs handled the reins with surprising ease, the leather straps firm in his calloused hands. It struck me that he must have had some practice before joining Jandar’s gang, because he guided the horses with the calm precision of someone who’d been a coachman in another life. For once, he seemed perfectly in his element.

Inside the carriage, the air carried a faint trace of hay and leather, but the mood was lighter than the last few days had been. Nira leaned against the small window, watching the countryside roll past. Her gaze kept drifting back to me until finally she spoke.

“Dad, where are we going to adventure?” she asked, her voice caught between curiosity and worry.

I hesitated only for a second before answering, “To a dungeon.”

Her eyes widened, and though she tried to keep her lips pressed into something firm, I caught the faint tremor of fear in her expression. Dungeons were not bedtime stories; even the bravest adventurers didn’t speak lightly of them.

Lydia noticed too, tilting her head with a gentle smile. “Are you afraid, Nira?”

Nira straightened in her seat, fists curling on her lap. “No.” The word came too quickly and sharp. She was afraid, but she wanted to be brave.

I leaned forward, meeting her eyes, my voice steady. “It’s alright if you are. But I’ll be there to protect you. Nothing will happen to you as long as I’m with you.”

Something softened in her then, her shoulders relaxing slightly. She nodded once, then forced a grin that was far too wide for her small face. “Then I’ll be brave too. And if something does happen, I’ll handle it. I’ll save you instead.”

Her declaration caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of me. “Save me, huh? I’ll hold you to that.”

Lydia chuckled softly at our exchange, reaching over to smooth Nira’s hair.

I leaned back against the wooden bench, letting the rocking motion of the carriage carry me into thought. For now, things in Enmar should hold steady. Pietro had the reins of the business, and though I didn’t fully trust him, Ken’s watchful presence would keep him in check. Between the two of them, the city’s operations were insulated. That gave me the breathing room I needed for this gamble with Nira.

The road stretched on, the trees thinning as we passed through a patch of open field. Then, without warning, Stabs’ voice cut through the easy quiet.

“Boss,” he called, his tone sharp and alert. “We got company. Bandits.”

The carriage jolted to a sudden halt, Stabs pulling hard on the reins. His voice had already warned us, but the sudden tension in the air confirmed it. I phased straight through the wood of the carriage, slipping into the open air, and settled myself beside Stabs on the driver’s bench.

“Whoa~! That scared me…” Stabs nearly dropped the reins as I appeared, then gave me a half-grin that betrayed nerves he was trying to hide.

I studied him for a moment. Over the past months, he had changed more than he probably realized. Gone were the greasy rags and stink of ale. Instead, he wore clean leather armor, patched here and there but well-kept, and carried himself more like a proper adventurer than the street thug he had once been.

My eyes shifted ahead. The road stretched open, barren of trees save for the occasional tuft of grass or stray shrub. Eight men stood across the dirt path in a loose formation, their armor mismatched but serviceable. I didn’t need to think hard to know there were more hidden off the roadside. Bandits rarely came in even numbers.

One of them raised a bow, his hand steady as he drew the string back, arrow aimed directly at our carriage.

I cupped my hands and shouted toward the back, “Lydia, can you handle it?”

Her voice returned, clear and resolute. “I can manage!”

“Good,” I said, eyes narrowing on the bowman. “Run them over if you have to.”

Stabs cracked the reins, the horses surging forward with a startled whinny. The bandits braced themselves, but something strange happened. Their eyes went wide all at once, terror flooding their faces. The bowman dropped his weapon, and shouts broke into panicked cries.

“What—what is that?!” one screamed.

“Retreat! Retreat!” another howled, stumbling over his own feet as he bolted.

The once-threatening blockade dissolved into chaos. Men scattered like frightened children, some tripping, some throwing down their weapons in desperation. Their formation collapsed in moments, the open road left clear before us as the last of them disappeared into the scrub.

I phased back through the wood into the carriage, where Lydia sat calm as a placid pond. Nira, however, had her face buried in her cloak, peeking out with wide eyes.

I raised a brow at Lydia. “Alright, what did you do?”

She adjusted her grip on her staff, as if she’d done nothing at all. “Nothing complicated. I just showed them a dragon.”

I blinked. “A dragon.”

“Yes,” she said simply, as though it were the most mundane answer in the world.

Leaning back against the seat, I exhaled slowly. This world never ceased to remind me how dangerous it could be. Bandits, monsters, and dungeons. It wasn’t the kind of place where one could afford to relax. But for now, with Lydia by my side, even the shadows of the road felt less oppressive. Her presence made the journey easier, and for that, I was quietly grateful.