After forcing her to use a secrecy spell, Alex watched the green haired elf walk away from the inn through the window. When she disappeared around the corner, he turned his attention back to the occupants of the room.

  “So…” He let the word hang in the air. “That was a revelation, wasn’t it?”

  Grenil was sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand resting awkwardly on Duran’s shoulder, as if afraid that letting go might make him disappear. His gaze stayed fixed on Duran’s face, searching for something, while the ghoul stared back impassively.

  “She seemed pretty shaken by the fact that he didn’t have a soul.” Alex also turned his attention to the patient. “I’m guessing that’s not very common around here?”

  That finally got the old man to turn to him, if only to send him an unimpressed look. “Oh really? What gave you that idea?”

  Duran offered no input.

  “But… How?” Alex was bewildered. “If he doesn’t have a soul, how is he… doing anything? Sure, he’s been a bit non-responsive since he last woke up, he’s not a complete vegetable. Duran!”

  The ghoul turned his head. “Yes?”

  “Can you hear what me and Grenil are talking about?” Alex asked.

  “Yes.” The ghoul nodded.

  “Okay so even though-” Alex froze, then slowly turned back towards Duran. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

  Grenil also turned to look at him incredulously.

  “I mean exactly that.” The man furrowed a brow. “I can hear you.”

  “Well then why didn’t you say anything? Why aren’t you more distraught?” Alex almost started slapping the man. “You’ve been catatonic for the past few hours!”

  “I didn’t care.” Duran shrugged. “Plus, I had my suspicions. I don’t know about my soul, but my mind has definitely been deteriorating over time, especially whenever I get revived. I barely remember the last few minutes.”

  “Oh…” Alex winced. “It’s that bad?”

  As if to make his point, Duran didn’t even give him one of his looks. “I don’t have a soul. Yes, it’s that bad.”

  “But you’re speaking, and moving,” Alex argued. “How is that possible?”

  “I don’t know.” The man demonstrated an astounding lack of care. “You’re the one responsible for my current state, so you’re the one who should be answering these questions.”

  “I…” Alex paused.

  ‘He’s right.’ He realised. ‘It’s not like it’s his magic, and he can’t do anything about it. And if it’s my magic, which seems to be completely linked with the body…’

  Alex suddenly looked up. “I think… I think I know what’s wrong. More specifically, why it’s wrong, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “You do?” Grenil let out a surprised sound.

  “Yes. I do.” Alex glared at him, then turned his attention back to Duran. “From what I understand, my magic seems incredibly tuned to the body. So, blood, healing, strength, stuff like that. Now, if I’m not wrong, that means that my resurrection ability is… not.”

  “What does that mean?” The old man asked. Duran also raised a brow.

  “Well… from my understanding, I think I only raised your physical body, or your brain. Your soul is still as dead as a doornail.” Alex explained.

  Grenil’s eyes lit up with understanding, while Duran seemed just as confused as before. “What’s a brain?”

  “It’s an organ responsible for thinking.” Alex explained. “Just like your heart pumps blood, the brain lets you think and move. It’s what controls your body.”

  “So you’re saying that you revived his body, without inserting a soul into it?” Grenil clarified.

  “Yes.” Alex nodded, then recalled something he read in Elara’s book. “Which explains why he can’t generate any of his own mana and needs me to recharge him all the time. Every living thing contains—and generates—mana. By that definition, Duran is… not alive.”

  They sat in silence while they processed that. Grenil with a thoughtful expression on his face and Duran with a blank one. Just when Alex was about to speak, Grenil opened his mouth.

  “I think that’s a good thing,” the old shopkeeper finally said.

  “…What?” Alex stared at him in disbelief. “How?”

  Grenil turned to look him in the eyes, and Alex suddenly remembered that he knew very little about Grenil’s past, save for the fact that there was more to it than it seemed.

  “Do you understand the scale of the storm that would shake this continent if you were capable of true resurrection?” The old man asked. “Even if it were limited to simple mortals, a power like that in the hands of someone as weak as you… The best outcome would be getting captured and kept chained up in some gods forsaken dungeon, constantly drained of your magical blood.”

  “Even the strongest gods struggle to achieve what you do with apparent ease. Do you think they will leave you be?”

  The room descended into silence once more.

  Alex realised just how lucky he’d been that no one powerful had seen or taken an interest in Duran. Coming to a different world only to get captured and farmed for fluids did not sound like that fun of a time. At least if the fluid in question was blood.

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that this power comes with drawbacks.” Alex quickly cheered himself up. “As for helping you, Duran, I don’t think there’s much we can do about it at the moment. Even if we knew how or where to go to fix your soul, I’m certain that such a place would be way too dangerous for me right now. Which means my first priority is getting stronger. Sorry, you’ll have to live like this for a while longer.”

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  “That’s okay.” Duran shrugged yet again. “I told you I don’t care. I’m struggling to feel things right now.”

  “Oh, that’s what you meant…” Alex trailed off, then forged on. “Anyway, the first step to me getting stronger is buying a certain piece of equipment that I can finally afford.”

  Grenil frowned. “What, that armour? How much could the guild have possibly paid you?”

  “Oh, the guild only gave me one gold.” Alex grinned and shook his coin pouch. “Our new green haired friend helped me out with the rest.”

  Grenil sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

  After getting changed, Alex walked into the guild hall with excitement.

  Although it was still bright outside, the light filtering through the clouds was noticeably dimmer and more orange than before. The crowd of adventurers milling about inside the hall was even denser than it was in the morning, and if the room wasn’t so huge it would have been impossible to even step inside.

  Soon enough, Alex pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the stairs going up to the second floor, which he took two at a time.

  The second floor of the guild felt quieter than the main hall below, though the open balcony looking out over the commotion meant that it was merely an illusion. This level was given over almost entirely to workshops and specialised vendors, the kind that sold things for people whose main profession was killing things.

  He headed straight for one of the armour shops.

  It was set back behind a wide doorway reinforced with metal struts. The storefront was wide and open, the front half of the room laid out to catch the eye rather than to store volume. Suits of armour stood on reinforced displays beneath hanging lamps, arranged by role rather than by price. Heavy plate dominated the left side, polished and imposing. Lighter, segmented suits meant for scouts and skirmishers took up the centre.

  Several people were already inside. One adventurer arguing at the register about a breastplate refund—except when Alex looked over, the man was holding a chunk of something that was hardly recognizable as metal, much less armour. Another was gesturing at his forearm in front of a significantly smaller bracer, the attendant next to him wearing an apologetic expression.

  And off to one side, closer to the windows, was his target.

  The hazard armour stood apart from the rest, fully enclosed and almost aggressively plain. It was made of layered leather rather than metal, the material treated until it held a uniform, dull brown finish that didn’t catch the light. Broad panels overlapped at the joints, stitched and riveted in a way that prioritised coverage over elegance, forming a continuous shell when sealed.

  Alex stopped in front of it and ran a hand over one of the panels. The leather was firm, almost rigid, but gave slightly under pressure. Along the inside edge, where the layers met, he could just make out the shallow carvings worked into the material—fine, deliberate grooves that marked where the enchantments had been laid. Alex remembered it had air filtration, but wasn’t sure about any others.

  He glanced at the tag, then flagged down one of the attendants and pointed at the display. “Could I try this one? Do you have it in my size?”

  The man glanced at Alex, then at the armour, and asked. “You know that’s not real armour, right? Any real monster will rip right through it.”

  “I know.” Alex nodded. “I need it to protect myself from a harmful environment. That’s what it’s for, right?”

  The attendant nodded. “Great. Then I’ll go check if we have your size out back.”

  The man retrieved a measuring rod and used it to check Alex’s height and shoulder width, and disappeared into the back. A few minutes later, he returned with a large box that he struggled to lift.

  “Here.” The man grunted, then set the box down with a relieved breath. “Do you need help putting it on, or are you fine?”

  Alex paused halfway through emptying the boxes contents and cleared his throat. “Yes please. I’ve never worn anything like this.”

  The attendant nodded and bent down to pick up the chest piece. “Come here.”

  With another ten minutes of fuss, Alex was fully suited up.

  The armour locked together smoothly, the seals engaging with soft clicks as each section was secured. It was heavier than he expected, but still light enough that he could move as he wished with his enhanced strength. The weight was also distributed evenly enough that it felt much lighter when he was wearing it than it had before.

  Unlike regular armour, which focused on protection, the hazard suit’s purpose meant that it could leave all the buckles and fastenings on the front, which meant Alex could put it on alone even unassisted, though the task remained daunting.

  He moved experimentally—twisting, crouching, raising his arms. The suit was a little bit tight in the shoulders, and he could already feel himself getting claustrophobic, but that was nothing compared to being able to go out during the day.

  “This is amazing,” Alex said with excitement.

  “Of course it is.” The attendant grinned. “Did you think the guild would sell sub-par equipment?”

  Alex conceded the point. “Before I pay, I was also told that I could get custom goggles. Where would I do that?”

  “Still here.” The man confirmed. “You can let me know what you need and I’ll go get them for you if we have them.”

  “Great.” He rubbed his hands together. “To be honest, the truth is that I’m buying this because I have a condition that means I can’t be exposed to direct sunlight, or it really hurts. Is there any clear material you have that could be used to replace them?”

  “Huh,” the man said, rubbing his chin. “Sensitivity to light. That’s annoying, but not unheard of.”

  Alex blinked. “It isn’t?”

  “Not usually that severe,” the attendant admitted, “but you’re not the first person to need filtered lenses. Most people just don’t need them built into sealed gear.”

  That was reassuring.

  The attendant gestured toward the helmet resting on the counter. “Standard lenses won’t help you. They’re meant to keep debris and gasses out, not light. But we do have a few alternatives.”

  He disappeared into the back again, returning a moment later with a shallow tray lined with several sets of lenses. Some were tinted, others cloudy, and one pair was almost entirely opaque, only faintly translucent at the edges.

  “These are your options,” the man said. “You’ll want diffusion rather than outright blocking. Fully opaque lenses are safe, but you’d be effectively blind in low light. These,” he tapped a darker pair with a subtle, smoky sheen, “will scatter direct sunlight enough to stop it from burning, while still letting you see well enough indoors or at dusk.”

  Alex leaned in and examined them closely. The material wasn’t glass; it reminded him more of treated crystal or resin, smooth but faintly textured when the light caught it at an angle.

  “Any downsides?” Alex asked.

  “They won’t help you if you look directly at the sun.” the attendant said honestly. “Colours will be flatter. Depth perception might feel a bit off at first.”

  Alex hesitated. “Is there a return policy on these? It’s cloudy today so I won’t be able to test them out on the spot, but I don’t want to buy something that might not be useful.”

  “If you return it within a week, we can refund you.” The man said, then sent Alex a harsh look. “In good condition.”

  ‘Ah, that explains the argument earlier.’

  “Then that’s fine,” Alex said immediately. “I’ll take those.”

  The attendant nodded and got to work, swapping out the standard lenses with practiced ease. The new eyepieces clicked neatly into place, sealing without gaps. He handed the helmet back to Alex once he was done.

  “Try it.”

  Alex pulled the helmet on and secured it, the clicks of the seals sounding far more satisfying than they had any right to. The world dimmed slightly as the lenses settled into place. Colours dulled, edges softened—but everything was still there. Clear enough.

  Alex grinned.

  “That’ll do,” he said.

  “Good,” the attendant replied, then led him to the register. “Hazard armour plus custom lenses comes to three gold and fifty silver. How will you be paying?”

  “Gold.” Alex didn’t hesitate. He loosened his coin pouch and counted out four of the large gold coins. That was most of Darcy’s money gone now, converted into something far more practical.

  The attendant swept the coins away and nodded once. “Thank you for your purchase. Good luck out there.”

  Alex slung the helmet under his arm and gave the man a quick nod in return. “Thank you. Bye.”

  He left the shop and made his way back toward the stairs, the noise of the main hall rising as he descended—voices, footsteps, cheers and shouts—but Alex barely registered it.

  For the first time since coming to this world, daylight wasn’t a hard limit anymore.

  And now that one of his biggest constraints was gone, there was nothing stopping him from doing exactly what he’d decided to do next.

  He tightened his grip on the helmet and headed for the doors.