Chapter 181: Familiarity

  The morning air in Reinhart carried a sense of calm, the kind that felt almost unnatural given the town's struggles from a few weeks ago.

  The streets were busy with life — merchants shouting prices from their stalls, blacksmiths hammering away in rhythm, and the steady clatter of horse-drawn carriages rolling over cobblestone roads.

  Workers hauled materials — stone, timber, and other supplies — up and down the streets as the town’s rebuilding efforts continued.

  Despite the lingering scars of past chaos, the townspeople found comfort in routine. Conversations flowed easily, shopkeepers chuckled with their customers, and children played along the sidewalks.

  The public had grown accustomed to the strange occurrences that had plagued Reinhart. The unknown was still frightening, but knowing that the mayor and the officers could hold the line gave them hope.

  In fact, the town's faith in its protectors had only strengthened.

  Three new Lieutenants — Abu, Emilia, and Sander — had entered the spotlight, filling the void left by the fallen Niko.

  Abu, with his mysterious aura and strange prowess, intrigued many. Emilia, known for her precision with a wand that unleashed powerful fireballs, had already earned a reputation for her fiery spirit and sharp mind. Sander, wielding an old fork that transformed into a deadly weapon, carried himself with quiet determination — a steady presence that put others at ease.

  The new faces were promising, but Reinhart still felt incomplete. Without Burt around, there was an emptiness — a silent reminder that the town’s most steadfast defender lay poisoned and bedridden. Though hope remained, it came with an undercurrent of anxiety.

  Yet, despite the tension, stories of the town’s protectors circulated with excitement — especially among the children.

  A group of kids gathered near a bakery window, voices eager and bright as they swapped tales.

  "Lieutenant Jenny’s third eye can shoot green lasers!" one boy declared dramatically, waving his arms as if channeling her power.

  “That’s nothing!” another countered. “Stewart’s got a glowing blue gecko! It’s like... his partner or something! It jumps around and fights beside him — it's so cool!”

  “I like Jet the most,” a younger girl added shyly. “He’s got a real spear... bronze and everything! My dad says he’s gonna be a great warrior one day.”

  The stories painted these officers as larger-than-life heroes — protectors who stood between the town and the dangers that loomed beyond. To the children, they were legends in the making.

  But that moment of innocence shattered when the unmistakable sound of bells rang out, loud and urgent.

  The children's excited chatter froze, replaced by fear. Parents who had been laughing moments ago now grabbed their children’s hands, guiding them away from the streets and into shelter.

  Merchants hurried to pack their wares, and workers abandoned their carts to seek safety. The air, once warm with life, turned cold with tension.

  For the people of Reinhart, the bells no longer signaled curiosity — they meant danger was near.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Jet stood firm, gripping his bronze spear tightly as he stared down the smug mercenary before him. The man had a wiry frame, greasy hair tied back in a loose knot, and a smug grin that dripped with arrogance.

  His leather armor looked worn but layered with various trinkets — charms, beads, and what seemed to be small bone fragments. He leaned in close, his breath reeking of stale liquor.

  "You must not know who I am," the man sneered, his voice low and threatening. "You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, officer. Walk away, and I’ll pretend this little encounter never happened.”

  Jet’s grip on his spear tightened. “I don’t care who you are,” he said evenly. “Use of magic or artifacts in public without approval is forbidden. Either you comply, or I’ll have no choice but to bring you in.”

  The man’s smirk faltered for a moment before twisting into a scowl. “I don’t give a shit about your rules,” he spat. “Me and my boys? We’re just passing through. So if you want this town to stay peaceful, you’ll back off... now.”

  “Not happening,” Jet replied, his voice calm but firm.

  The mercenary let out a derisive chuckle. “Fine,” he said, stepping back. “Have it your way.”

  He placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp, shrill whistle that echoed down the street.

  Jet’s muscles tensed as five more figures emerged from a nearby alley, each one carrying weapons — axes, blades, and cudgels — and all of them with the same hardened, predatory look. The mercenary grinned, pointing at Jet’s spear.

  “Didn’t expect an officer from some backwater town to have an artifact,” he said, his eyes gleaming with greed. “That’s gonna be mine soon. You don’t know who you’re messing with. We’ve crushed towns bigger than this — taken what we wanted, left nothing but ash.”

  Jet’s heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression cool. He leveled his spear toward the man, voice steady.

  “Last warning.”

  The mercenary’s grin widened. “You’re brave. Stupid... but brave.” He tapped his chest. “Do you know why they call us The Benevolent Heart?”

  Jet kept his spear raised but said nothing.

  The man chuckled darkly. “Because each of us carries a piece of a Shore Frog’s heart — split between us in a ritual. Ever heard of it? Gives us a boon — makes us stronger, faster. We’re more than human now.” He cracked his knuckles. “Anyone below a pseudo is nothing to us.”

  Jet’s brow furrowed. A boon from a Shore Frog? He knew of those rare creatures thanks to some of Abel’s lectures on creatures from the area that hadn't been seen in a long time — their mana-rich hearts were prized in rituals and alchemy alike. If these men had successfully absorbed its power, they might actually pose a threat.

  Before Jet could speak, a familiar voice called out from behind him.

  “You’re not alone, Jet.”

  He turned to see Samir, Emilia, and Sanders approaching, each flanked by their officers.

  Samir’s lantern flickered with a bright yellow flame, Emilia twirled her fire-spitting wand between her fingers as she looked excited for a battle, and Sanders calmly gripped the old fork artifact in his hand, already beginning to shift it into a deadly sai.

  But it was the last figure that stole the attention of the mercenaries — Abu, his new lieutenant uniform swaying as he calmly stepped forward. His singular glowing eye locked onto the group of men, and the air seemed to grow heavy.

  The change in the mercenaries was immediate — their arrogance evaporated, replaced by fear that seemed instinctive, primal.

  Their postures slumped, their faces paled, and their hands trembled. Even their leader, who moments ago seemed so smug, stumbled back a step.

  “I... I-I'm sorry,” the man stammered. “We didn’t know... we didn’t realize... we’ll go quietly.”

  Their weapons hit the ground with dull clangs as they raised their hands in surrender. The officers quickly stepped in, binding their hands and hauling them away.

  Jet, still gripping his spear, exhaled slowly. He couldn’t believe how fast things had turned.

  As the mercenaries were led away, a voice came from the shadows.

  “I’m surprised... that by your aura alone, you could strike fear so deeply, Abu.”

  Abu’s head turned sharply, his expression darkening until a shocked look appeared on his face.

  “…Stargazer,” he muttered under his breath.