The Uninvited Guest

Anna watched him with a critical eye, her expression softening slightly.

Leonardo glanced at her, clutching his sheath and the experimental sword he was testing. "If you attack it again, it'll definitely tackle you down" Anna says, eyes narrowing at the inanimate foe.

"How'd you know that" Leonardo replies.

Anna nodded knowingly. "Every story skill comes with what you might call a 'starter pack,'" she explained, gesturing vaguely. "Like mine, Real Illusionist, gives me enhanced perception, better than anyone who doesn't have a skill catered toward it. That's the basic stuff. Elara's skill, for instance, means easier or better projection of objects to create." She paused, studying Leonardo intently. "Yours, though... Have you noticed anything unique that others don't have? Like a—"

"I have a handbook," Leonardo interrupted, his tone flat.

Anna blinked. "A what?"

"I have this thing I call 'Text.' It answers my questions if I ask it," he replied, fumbling with the sword as he tried to fit it into a sheath that seemed too big.

Anna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So it knows everything? Then why bother—"

"It doesn't know everything. It's limited, mostly Rasvian, currency and languages." Leonardo cut in, his voice laced with frustration. 

He cast a wary glance at the dummy, still poised ominously. Anna tilted her head, considering his words. "How many languages?"

Leonardo paused, the floating text rising before him. 1,324 languages known, it read in a neat, glowing script.

"One thousand, three hundred, and twenty-four," he relayed, still staring at the text.

Anna whistled softly, impressed. "That's how you're able to communicate with us so easily. I've always wondered why your Kol-Nic is so perfect except for you're accent that is."

"A Stage Five Story Skill grants that much, I suppose." she repeats again

"Can we stop?" Leonardo blurts, the words sharper than intended. His hands tremble at his sides, calloused fingers brushing the hilt of the mismatched sword.

Anna pauses mid-swing, her practice blade hovering in the air. She tilts her head, sweat-damp hair clinging to her neck. "Why? You were finally getting the hang of it."

His silence stretches. She follows his gaze to where Elara dozes on the weathered garden couch, her chest rising in rhythm with the cicadas' hum. When he speaks again, his voice cracks like dry kindling. "I'm just… exhausted."

"Alright." She throws her practice sword on the ground. A yawn escapes her. "We'll start fresh at dawn. Better light anyway."

Elara stirs as Anna nudges her shoulder, blinking owl-like in the twilight. "Hmm? Right—right, the gazebo." She rolls upright, joints popping.

"Alrigh-" He stopped abruptly. His voice faltered as he watched the sheath seemed to narrow and envelop the sword, fitting perfectly despite its prior misalignment. He hesitated, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand, its structure shifting subtly.

"How did I learn that...?" Leonardo muttered, eyes wide with shock.

The glowing text on the sheath's surface caught his eye, pulsing with a faint light that outlined each word.

[Weapon-skill imbuing is easy, just the extension of the skill is hard to produce]

"Let's just go now..." Elara added, her tone carrying the same exhaustion. She tugged at her baggy pants, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet corridor.

Everyone was worn out, their energy sapped from endless hours of wakefulness and tension.

Each step heavier than the last, towards the door they had entered through. The gazebo's spiral staircase loomed ahead, twisting upwards into the dim light.

"Beds are on the fourth floor," Anna murmured, gesturing vaguely with her hand. She led the way, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls.

"The floor where your mom's room is?" Leonardo asked, glancing at Anna. His grip tightened around the sheath, its shifting form still an unsettling presence in his hand.

"She should be sleeping right now," Elara replied, her voice quieter than before. She seemed lost in thought, eyes unfocused as she stared at the stairs ahead.

"I just don't want to be like Kaelan," Leonardo confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at the sheath again, its shifting texture and form mirroring his unease.

The way it adapted, molded by the slightest touch—was this what Altan did? He remembered Altan's spear, the same color as his armor, a vibrant grey hue that blended seamlessly with the metal plates.

"Anna, the Draconis Hogeol... you never really explained what they are," Leonardo said, his curiosity piqued by the mysteries surrounding Altan.

Anna took a deep breath, as if searching for the right words. "They represent a dragon, I think," she began, speaking slowly.

"The others, they represent the legs, wings, head... and one embodies the actual body of a dragon. Altan represents the ferocity."

"I haven't really met them, just Altan. The others... they appear briefly, then vanish."

"There's a door near the entrance. Just walk straight to the end; don't go up the stairs. Once you're done, come back to the second floor and knock and we'll get you." She yawned deeply, rubbing her eyes as she finished speaking.

"We'll talk soon. Also Don't worry, everything's in the shower." She gave a half-hearted wave before walking off, disappearing behind the door.

Leonardo hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the door they had entered through.

It seemed to lead only to stairs, an endless spiral stretching upward. He shook his head and began descending, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hall.

As he passed by couches and finally the lounge he stood at the door Anna mentioned, his gaze shifting to the main entrance door, half-expecting something unusual to happen.