Free Web NovelChapter 23: One Hundred Gold...?!
"One hundred gold."
The receptionist’s calm voice lingered across the counter.
The silver locket rested between them, faint Spirit Energy flowing across its surface in soft pulses. Atlas stood still beneath his hood. Outwardly, he gave almost no reaction.
Inwardly, his thoughts paused.
One hundred gold.
The number was absurd.
Yesterday, receiving one gold for the boar hide had already felt unreal. Before the Eternal Ruin, Atlas had survived by counting copper and silver coins, hunting animals, avoiding stronger hunters, and stretching small earnings across several days.
Now, a single relic in front of him was worth enough to change an ordinary commoner’s life.
Atlas slowly exhaled beneath the hood.
Carefully.
Reacting too strongly would only draw attention.
The receptionist seemed to misunderstand his silence and smiled faintly.
"It is normal to feel overwhelmed. Most explorers do not even see Rare-grade relics during their first few years in the Guild."
Atlas’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"...Rare-grade?"
The receptionist nodded and lifted the locket again.
"Yes. Relics are separated according to rarity, durability, Spirit density, and ability."
Soft Spirit Energy flickered across her fingertips as she continued.
"The public classifications begin with Common."
Then she listed them one by one.
"Uncommon."
"Rare."
"Epic."
"Ancient."
"Cataclysm."
Her expression shifted slightly.
"And finally..."
She hesitated for a brief moment.
"...Divine-grade relics."
Several nearby explorers quieted slightly when they heard the final classification.
Atlas noticed the reaction immediately.
The receptionist smiled awkwardly afterward.
"Though Divine-grade relics are mostly treated as myths nowadays."
Atlas remained silent.
His thoughts moved toward the Bloodbound Codex.
What exactly would something like that be classified as?
Ancient?
Cataclysm?
Divine?
Or something beyond even those categories?
The thought unsettled him.
The Codex had healed him, rewritten his attributes, absorbed monster blood, hidden inside his body, reacted to relics, and opened locked pages only after certain conditions. It did not feel like a simple relic. It felt like something that used relic rules only because Atlas needed a way to understand it.
The receptionist placed the Condor’s Locket back on the counter.
"This relic is valuable because defensive relics are always in high demand. A barrier that protects a ten-meter radius can save an entire party if used at the right moment."
Atlas lowered his gaze toward the locket.
A ten-meter Spirit barrier.
Three uses.
One hundred gold.
That told him enough. freewebnøvel.com
Relics were not only treasures.
They were power.
Portable power.
Sellable power.
Recorded power.
Which meant the Codex inside his chest could become the reason kingdoms slaughtered one another.
His fingers tightened slightly beneath his sleeves.
Then he asked quietly, "Can relics be registered without selling them?"
The receptionist blinked once, then nodded.
"Of course. Many explorers keep useful relics for themselves while registering ownership through the Guild."
Atlas narrowed his eyes slightly.
"...Ownership?"
"Yes." She leaned slightly against the counter while explaining. "It prevents theft disputes and false claims. Once registered, the Guild records the relic under your explorer identity. If someone steals it and tries to sell it through an official branch, the record can expose them."
Atlas understood immediately.
A protection system.
Useful.
But also a record.
That irritated him.
Still, keeping the locket was the correct choice.
Money mattered, but survival mattered more. After the Eternal Ruin, Atlas understood how quickly death appeared in this world. One defensive relic could mean the difference between escaping and being crushed before he could react.
"Register it," Atlas said.
The receptionist prepared the papers.
Atlas waited beneath his hood while his thoughts lingered on the relic’s price. One hundred gold was enough to live comfortably for a long time if spent carefully. But selling a defensive relic for comfort would be foolish. Comfort did not protect against monsters, nobles, or people like Mark.
Then his stomach tightened painfully.
Atlas’s expression stiffened slightly.
Hunger.
Only after the ruin, the fighting, the Guild, and the evaluation did his body begin reacting properly. He had not eaten anything meaningful for almost two days. The pain was sharp enough to make even him uncomfortable.
The receptionist noticed the subtle change.
"...Sir?"
Atlas paused briefly.
Then spoke quietly.
"...Do you know a decent inn nearby?"
The receptionist blinked once before smiling naturally.
"If you are looking for a safe place for explorers, I recommend the Golden Inn."
Atlas listened.
"It is near the center of Ormolio. Many explorers stay there because the owner does not discriminate too much between nobles and commoners."
That caught Atlas’s attention immediately.
The receptionist continued.
"The food is good, the rooms are clean, and security is reliable. Though..."
She laughed awkwardly.
"It is a little expensive."
Atlas nodded faintly.
"...That is fine."
Right now, he finally had money.
Real money.
The receptionist handed him the registered relic papers after finishing the process.
"Your relic is officially registered now."
Atlas accepted them quietly.
Then he left the Guild.
Night had already descended over Ormolio when Atlas stepped back into the streets. Golden lanterns lit the city roads, and countless voices spread from the night markets. Merchants continued selling food, tools, clothes, and cheap trinkets. Explorers moved between taverns and material shops. Carriages rolled through the wider roads with armed escorts walking nearby.
Atlas barely paid attention.
His stomach still hurt from hunger.
And his body was exhausted.
The Golden Inn was not difficult to find.
The building stood near the center district, larger and cleaner than most nearby establishments. Warm golden light spilled from its windows, and explorers and merchants entered and exited through the polished wooden entrance.
Atlas stepped inside quietly.
Warmth reached him first.
Then the smell of roasted meat.
The first floor was a large dining area filled with long tables, lanterns, and moving servants. Explorers laughed loudly near one side. Merchants spoke in lower voices near the other. Servants walked between tables carrying trays of food, drinks, and clean cloths.
Compared to the Guild, the atmosphere here felt calmer.
Safer.
Atlas approached the front counter, where a middle-aged woman stood organizing papers.
She glanced up.
Then paused slightly at his hooded figure.
"How may I help you, sir?"
Atlas answered calmly.
"I need a room for one week."
The woman nodded.
"What type?"
"Average."
Not luxurious.
Not poor.
Average people were forgotten easiest.
The woman checked several keys behind the counter.
"Ten silver per night."
Atlas placed one gold coin on the counter.
The woman’s brows lifted faintly, but she did not comment. She counted the change and handed the remaining silver back to him.
"Thirty silver in return."
Atlas accepted the coins.
One gold equaled one hundred silver.
Even now, the scale of money felt strange. In the slums, a few silver coins could decide whether someone ate properly for several days. Here, a week in an average inn cost seventy silver.
The woman handed him a key.
"Third floor. Room twenty-seven."
Atlas nodded.
Then paused.
"...And food?"
The woman smiled slightly.
"Our standard explorer meal costs five silver."
Atlas felt a faint sting at the price.
Five silver for a meal.
Back in the slums, that amount could feed someone for days if stretched carefully.
Still, he nodded.
"Bring it to the dining area."
Several minutes later, Atlas sat near a corner table beneath warm lantern light. His hood remained lowered enough to hide most of his face. Nearby conversations blended into background noise, and no one paid him much attention.
Then the food arrived.
For several seconds, Atlas simply stared.
Roasted boar meat rested on a large plate. Warm bread and sliced meat sandwiches released visible steam into the air. The smell alone made his stomach tighten again.
Real food.
Warm food.
Not scraps.
Not dried rations.
Not something stolen, hunted, or eaten quickly before someone stronger noticed.
Atlas picked up the fork and knife.
Then he ate.
Slowly.
Quietly.
The roasted meat was rich, the bread was soft, and the warmth settled into his exhausted body. He had eaten to survive many times. This was different. This was food bought with his own money, served openly, without anyone trying to take it from him.
That feeling was unfamiliar.
He did not let himself sink into it.
Comfort was dangerous if trusted too quickly.
Still, his body needed this.
Several explorers nearby continued drinking and laughing. One group argued over mission rewards. Another spoke about a failed Hollow-Class expedition in a nearby region. Atlas listened faintly while eating, collecting whatever pieces of information came naturally.
Even while eating, his thoughts moved.
Information.
Continents.
Spirit.
Relics.
Escape.
His fingers brushed faintly against his chest.
The Bloodbound Codex rested there silently.
Waiting.
Atlas lowered his eyes.
’One week.’
That was enough.
Enough to gather information, to learn more about Spirit and relics, to decide his next movement.
After that, he would leave this continent.
That decision had not changed.
Eventually, Atlas finished the meal and rose from the dining area. He made his way to the third floor and found room twenty-seven.
The room was small and simple.
A wooden bed rested near one wall. A small table stood beside a single lantern. The walls had visible cracks, and one window overlooked part of Ormolio’s glowing night streets below.
Average and Forgettable.
Atlas locked the door behind him.
Then exhaled slowly.
Silence filled the room.
For several moments, he only stood there, thinking.
Then he spoke softly.
"Originate."
A crimson glow surfaced in the room.
The Bloodbound Codex emerged from Atlas’s chest, and the Sanguis Stylus floated beside it. Red light spread across the small room, casting faint shadows against the wooden walls.
Atlas stepped toward the table.
Then opened the Codex.
The familiar page appeared immediately.
[ PROFILE ]
[ Name: Atlas Mariorett ]
[ STATS ]
Strength: 9 _ [LOCKED]
Atlas stopped.
The lock beside Strength was gone.
Completely gone.
His eyes narrowed under the crimson glow.
That meant the first limit on Strength had opened.
He could increase it again.
Atlas stared silently at the number for several moments.
Then slowly clenched one hand.
His current strength was already difficult to control. Even inside the Veil-Class Ruin, he had destroyed monsters too easily, cracked walls by mistake, and spent hours learning how not to overuse force. If he wrote ten now, the change might make him stronger, but it could also ruin the control he had just begun developing.
He remembered the agony of Spirit awakening.
The rewritten veins.
The unbearable pressure.
The feeling of becoming something no longer completely human.
His expression darkened slightly.
"...Not yet."
This time, he did not act recklessly.
Strength without control was meaningless.
Atlas slowly turned to the next page afterward.
He expected another lock.
Another sealed section.
Another page refusing him until some unknown condition had been met.
But the moment the next page revealed itself, Atlas stopped completely.
His eyes widened faintly beneath the crimson glow.
Because the lock was gone here too.
