Chapter 101 - The Price of Knowing

The first thing Etzel did after speaking to a dead man was sleep for eleven hours.

Renn approved.

This concerned everyone.

When Etzel woke, Neris was sitting on the floor beside his bed with a book.

He opened one eye.

“Why are you here?”

“Mom said make sure you’re breathing.”

“I am.”

“I checked.”

“How?”

“I poked you.”

Etzel looked at his arm.

Three ink dots.

“You documented it?”

“Yes.”

“Future Hunter.”

“Obviously.”

She left.

Etzel stared at the ceiling.

Edgar Vale.

The Waiting Root.

The Ninth Crown.

The Gardener restoring interrupted deaths.

Limited Necromancer reaching into that system somehow.

Too much.

So he did what he had learned.

He did not chase all of it.

Breakfast first.

Then Authority.

The recovered pinecone from the foreign Soul Space contained water with mineral composition unlike any local source.

Not proof of another world.

Could be isolated environment.

Could be System-generated space.

Could be stored matter.

Renn refused to call it an afterlife.

Etzel agreed.

Names mattered.

The two rescued Hunters recovered fully.

Lysa’s Companion Link returned to normal after twelve hours.

The root structure vanished before the Authority’s second team arrived.

No roots.

No hollow.

No residue visible to ordinary instruments.

Only disturbed soil.

And one chemical trail tab.

Evidence that something had happened.

Enough.

Orsik sat through the report.

Quiet but present.

Saeva drew a picture of the root cage on Renn’s notes.

Renn let her.

Better.

Then came the controlled sword test.

The broken blade fragment remained behind resonance shielding.

Orsik stood ten meters away.

Etzel beside him.

Tessa present for monitoring.

Renn behind glass.

No Pale Court.

No dramatic music.

That helped.

Shield opened one layer.

Nothing.

Nine meters.

Orsik felt recognition.

No memory.

Eight.

Soul resonance increased.

Seven.

Etzel’s bond pulsed.

They stopped.

Taken from NovelPhoenix, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Renn asked, “Continue?”

Orsik considered.

“Yes. One meter.”

Six.

Memory.

A hand.

Edgar’s hand.

Wrapping cloth around Orsik’s wounded palm.

A younger voice:

If you drop the Standard again, I’m taking command.

Orsik smiled.

Then pain hit.

He raised a hand.

“Stop.”

Shield closed.

Test ended.

No pushing.

No forced breakthrough.

Etzel looked at him.

“What did you get?”

“A stupid conversation.”

“Useful?”

“Yes.”

“Pain?”

“Gone.”

That helped.

The System displayed no reward.

Also good.

Outside the lab, Renn handed Etzel a mission ledger.

“Choose.”

Etzel stared.

“Choose what?”

“Your next field assignment.”

Independent field authority.

Right.

Three approved options.

A D-Rank nest-clearance operation near a trade road.

A C-Rank escort through a transformed-animal migration corridor.

A suspected B-Rank anomaly in an abandoned quarry.

Sivenne leaned over his shoulder.

“Quarry.”

“No.”

“Coward.”

“Assessment.”

Rusk smiled.

Etzel looked at the options.

Old instinct chose the B-Rank anomaly.

Higher danger.

More experience.

Potential special target.

Maybe faster Level growth.

He hated that he could feel the temptation so clearly.

Level Eighteen.

Then Nineteen.

Then Twenty.

Chest.

Reward.

He put the quarry file down.

Sivenne looked horrified.

“Who are you?”

Etzel picked up the escort.

C-Rank.

Moving civilians.

Uncertain animal migration.

Leadership problem.

Not just combat.

“This.”

Renn nodded.

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t led a civilian escort.”

Correct gap.

Not fastest XP.

Best missing skill.

Rusk looked almost proud.

Etzel pointed at him.

“Do not.”

“I said nothing.”

“Your face did.”

The escort left that afternoon.

Three cargo vehicles.

Seventeen civilians relocating between settlements.

Two drivers.

Etzel’s team.

No DK.

Again.

Orsik stayed voluntarily for another memory-rest day.

Saeva came.

Sivenne complained about the lack of quarry monsters for twenty minutes.

Then the migration hit.

Not attack.

Migration.

Hundreds of transformed deer crossed the road.

E-Rank mostly.

A few D.

Large antlers.

Glowing throat sacs.

Beautiful.

Dangerous only if panicked.

The convoy stopped.

Etzel watched.

“Engines off.”

Drivers complied.

“Lights off.”

Done.

“Everyone stays inside.”

One civilian opened a door.

Etzel was there before his second foot touched the road.

“Inside.”

“My daughter is in the rear vehicle.”

“Then the best thing you can do for her is not make two rescue problems.”

The man froze.

Then returned inside.

Leadership was different from fighting.

People argued.

Fear made them stupid.

Etzel understood because fear made Hunters stupid too.

The herd crossed.

Then a roar came from the forest.

The deer panicked.

Bad.

A transformed cat emerged.

C-Rank.

Long body.

Bone plates.

Hunting the herd.

Not the convoy.

But three hundred terrified animals could kill civilians without intending to.

“Maerin!”

Claimed Ground spread around the lead vehicle.

Not huge.

Stable.

A safe island.

“Sivenne, left side. Redirect, don’t strike unless necessary.”

She grinned.

“Boring.”

“Correct.”

“Tessa, injuries only.”

“Saeva, pressure above the road. Make them avoid the vehicles.”

Saeva rose.

The first wave came.

Hooves.

Antlers.

Noise.

Saeva pressed air downward ahead of the convoy.

Not enough to injure.

Enough to make animals turn.

Maerin’s Claim gave the lead vehicle a defined space the herd instinctively resisted entering once contact occurred.

Sivenne moved along the flank.

A deer charged.

She dodged.

Pushed its shoulder.

Redirected.

No kill.

Etzel guarded the gap between vehicles.

The C-Rank cat pursued.

It saw easy prey.

Then saw Etzel.

Changed target.

Naturally.

“Rusk!”

Impact round.

Cat dodged.

Fast.

It leapt onto the second vehicle.

Civilians screamed.

Etzel climbed.

The roof dented.

Claw came.

He blocked with spear.

Strength difference.

His knees bent.

Level Seventeen did not make C-Rank strength irrelevant.

That helped.

The cat bit for his throat.

Etzel moved.

Not enough.

Saeva pushed its head aside.

Teeth closed on air.

Etzel struck the bone plate.

Spear bounced.

No damage.

He observed.

Plates overlapped from front to back.

Protection against frontal attacks.

Mobility required gaps when twisting.

Obvious.

Not enough for Witness.

He needed genuine understanding of function.

The cat turned.

Plate lifted at the shoulder.

Etzel saw tendon.

He did not stab.

Why?

Because killing the predator beside a panicked migration might worsen the herd response.

Objective: civilians.

Not kill.

He hit the exposed gap with the spear shaft instead.

Pain.

Cat recoiled.

Rusk fired near its feet.

Saeva shoved.

The animal jumped down.

Then pursued deer again.

Etzel let it.

Sivenne shouted from the road:

“You let it go!”

“Yes!”

“I’m beginning to hate your character development!”

The herd passed.

One vehicle damaged.

Two civilians with minor injuries.

No deaths.

No dead deer.

No dead predator.

Tessa treated a broken wrist without using Bearer of Consequence because ordinary medicine was enough.

He kept that in mind.

Ability restraint.

The convoy resumed.

At dusk, they reached the destination.

Seventeen civilians arrived.

All alive.

The father from earlier found his daughter.

He thanked Etzel.

Etzel did not know what to do with that.

So he said:

“Stay inside vehicles next time.”

The man laughed.

System text appeared.

Then the line Etzel had expected eventually.

He stared.

Sivenne saw his face.

“What?”

Etzel smiled.

“Eighteen.”

She screamed louder than necessary.

Maerin smiled.

Tessa hugged him.

Saeva landed on his shoulders.

“Two to chest.”

Etzel pointed at her.

“Do not start.”

She grinned.

He had reached Level Eighteen without killing the C-Rank predator.

Without choosing the highest-risk mission.

Without farming.

The Level came anyway.

Because getting stronger had finally stopped meaning only one thing.

Then his interface added a line.

Two Levels.

Not tomorrow.

Etzel looked back at the road.

The temptation remained.

That was fine.

Growth did not mean wanting less.

It meant choosing better.

His communicator vibrated.

Renn.

Etzel answered.

“Please say congratulations.”

“Congratulations.”

Etzel blinked.

“Suspicious.”

“I also have bad news.”

“There it is.”

“The Pale Court prisoner disappeared.”

Etzel’s smile vanished.

“Escaped?”

“No.”

“What does that mean?”

Renn paused.

“The cell is still locked.”

No breach.

No body.

No teleport signature.

Only one thing remained on the floor.

A root.

Pale.

Fresh.

And beneath it, carved into concrete:

THE NINTH CROWN REMEMBERS ITS STANDARD.