And suddenly, the laughter softened. The kids still smiled, but the weight of that last line lingered like a hush.
Elli looked at him quietly, her smile fading into something gentler. She picked up his fork and spoon, she start feeding him slowly .
hellen smile at elli and say " so ! elli and alex so you both are engaged or lover ! you look cute when you both re blushing !".
Elli's face turned bright red. She looked away and stammered,
"No! It's not like that! We're just... comrades!"
Alex just nodded, calm as always, finishing his meal without a word. Afterward, he slipped out quietly, climbing to the top of the church. Lying on the cold stone roof, he stared up at the stars like they owed him answers.
A voice called out from below.
"Kid! Come down already! Time to sleep!"
It was Brock.
Alex yawned, stood up, and climbed down.
Brock raised an eyebrow.
"You love sleeping on rooftops or what?"
Alex grinned. "Where are we sleeping, old man?"
Brock led him inside, pointing at three rooms.
"That one's yours. Side room's Elli's. Other one's mine."
Then he narrowed his eyes with mock suspicion.
"Listen, I'm too old for drama. If you two are planning to do anything... just keep it silent, alright?"
Alex burst out laughing.
"What are you talking about?! I don't know what he means!"
He slipped into his room, still grinning, and crashed onto the bed. Sleep took him without a fight.
Morning Mischief
"Brother! Wake up! Brother!"
Alex groaned. A little kid was sitting on his chest, shaking him like a rag doll.
"Alright, alright! I'm up!"
He gently moved the child aside and looked around for a toothbrush but couldn't find one.
No choice.
He muttered the cleaning spell Ruby taught him, and just like that, mouth fresh, problem solved.
Outside, kids were eating and talking. Alex threw on his bone armor and took off running around the church, his footfalls echoing like thunder. The kids stared in awe. For two hours straight, he ran circling, weaving, training. When the children joined in, laughing, Alex picked them up, two at a time, carrying them on his back as he ran like a warhorse fueled by joy.
At last, he stopped near the church doors, chest heaving.
Hellen walked up with a jug of water.
"Here," she said softly.
Alex nodded, drinking deeply, grateful. He took off the heavy armor and dropped it onto the ground with a thud.
Hellen bent down, trying to lift it.
"Who the hell are you to wear something this heavy?"
Alex smiled and lifted it effortlessly with one hand, slipping it into his infinity pocket.
She stared, wide-eyed, and before she could say more, her hand reached for his arm curious, amazed. His muscles were hard, fortified like stone.
"Alex, what are you doing?"
A sharp voice cut her off.
"Hey!"
It was Elli, arms crossed, glaring like a storm cloud.
Alex blinked, smirking.
"What? You wanna touch too?"
Elli marched over, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the dining hall like a mom catching her son messing around.
She sat him down and slapped a bowl in front of him. Her face said everything:
"Eat. Grandpa told me to take care of you."
Alex chuckled.
"Can you help me then?"
She rolled her eyes but laughed, sitting beside him and spoon-feeding him like a reluctant babysitter. Soon, they were laughing. Alex kept throwing questions at her like pebbles into water.
"So, how do Atlanteans do things down there in the ocean?"
She smiled, caught off guard by the curiosity.
"Well," she began, brushing hair behind her ear,
"We don't sit quietly all day, you know. But... I haven't trained much lately. I don't have my trident. And this land it's barren. No water in sight."
Alex laughed out loud.
"If you have a weapon in your blood, then find one. You think you're stronger than a normal being?"
Elli's eyes lit up.
"Damn right I am! We live in the deep ocean. Our bodies withstand crushing pressure, extreme cold, and intense heat. We hear better. Sense more. We're... kind of human, but with enhanced physiology and sharper senses. Nature shaped us tougher."
Alex nodded, that grin still there, slow and understanding.
"So basically, you're built different."
"Exactly."
Alex stepped out into the dusky street, the shadows long and lazy across the cobblestones. The market buzzed around him, but his eyes scanned only one thing the metallic glint of blades. He followed the scent of coal and steel until he reached a weapon shop sandwiched between a bakery and a spice merchant. A tired sign hung above the door: Grinn's Steel & Scraps.
Inside, the air was hot, thick with iron. Racks lined the walls, filled with all kinds of weapons spears, swords, axes. Freshly forged. Shiny. Pointless. Alex picked up a polished spear and gave it a whirl. It was good. Too good. Clean. Soulless.
He looked past the rows of glittering weapons and wandered to the back, where the light barely touched. There, tucked into a corner like forgotten toys, were the failures rusted spears, dull blades, and chipped daggers. Useless to most. But one caught his eye: a blackened spear with ancient markings carved faintly on the handle.
The moment his fingers touched it, he felt a low hum stir in his chest like a heartbeat not his own. He narrowed his eyes, running a thumb across the runes.
"Hey," he called to the old man behind the counter, "how much for this spear?"
The old man chuckled through yellowed teeth. "That? Bah, junk. Most of those in the back are useless. Can't even sell 'em to farmers. Five hundred trilm if you really want it."
Alex didn't blink. He took the spear and wandered deeper, drawn by something pulling at his senses. Another weapon a sword this time, blue and rusted, heavier than it looked. When he touched the hilt, a strange sensation gripped him not cold, not hot. Something like pressure, like a soul sleeping beneath steel.
Suddenly, a whisper flared in his head.
"Master, please do not touch it barehanded. That's a Spirit Weapon. It was born for someone… maybe her."
Alex flinched. "Elli?"
The whisper didn't reply.
He wrapped the blade in cloth, careful not to draw it, and returned to the front. "You got more like this?"
The old man scratched his beard. "You like junk, huh? Follow me, lad."
He led Alex to a side room, pulling open a musty curtain. The space behind it was small, stacked with rusted swords and forgotten sheaths. A graveyard of failed craftsmanship.
"Bought these off scavengers from the southern wilds. Said they dragged 'em outta the Chaos Forest. Useless, though. Most are stuck in their sheaths. Can't even draw 'em. Good for scrap at best."
But Alex felt it again. That thrum. That sleeping rage. That sadness. These weren't dead weapons. They were waiting.
He reached into the pile, touching hilt after hilt. Some cold. Some warm. Some pulsed.
"They're Ego Weapons," the voice whispered again. "They lost their pride. Their wielders. Their wars. But they still remember."
Alex picked up a bundle of rusted, ancient blades some looked cursed, others like they were used to chop wood and regrets. Most were so useless even a scarecrow wouldn't want them.
"How much for the lot?" he asked, swinging a rusted sword like it owed him money.
The old man coughed on his pipe. "For those? Five thousand trilms, and a tetanus shot."
Alex didn't blink. He dropped the coins like he was paying for gum, then scooped the weapons into his infinity pouch like a kid looting candy during a fire drill.
"You said Chaos Forest?" he asked, turning like a cowboy in a bedtime story.
"Aye," said the old man, smoke spiraling from his nose. "Beyond the no-man's land. Barbarians used to haul this junk out like it was sacred treasure. Probably brain damage."
Alex nodded thoughtfully. "My kinda place."
Outside, he tied a spear across his back and whistled. Darcy trotted beside him in her white tiger form, tail flicking with royal sass.
"Let's go get dinner."
They went full monster-hunter mode. Blood. Roars. Teeth. One poorly timed sneeze. Eventually, they dragged home a beast roughly the size of a sofa with anger issues.
Alex stomped into the church's kitchen like he owned the place and dropped the beast on the counter with a splat.
"So," he grinned. "Meat night?"
A maid screamed. One cook dropped a tomato. The head chef clutched his apron like it was a holy relic.
"You have to clean it! Skin! Bones! Guts! This is a KITCHEN, not a battlefield!"
Alex unsheathed a kitchen knife with theatrical flair. Violet aura erupted like a cooking show hosted by a warlock.
"No problem."
The room fell dead silent. Someone whispered, "He's going to murder the beast again."
And he did. Just... this time with finesse.
Skin slipped off smoother than lies at a royal council. Bones were sliced with clean, musical rhythm. He even hummed while separating organs, like some dark Disney prince.
That's when Elli opened the door.
She froze mid-step, eyes locking on the blood-soaked battlefield that was now her kitchen.
Alex looked up, still smiling like a man who thought this was a normal Tuesday. "Hey. Want some liver?"
Elli blinked. "WHAT. THE. HELL. ARE YOU DOING?"
"Helping. With dinner. Obviously."
One chef clutched a ladle like a holy symbol. "HOW are you doing this? That's a monster! It's still twitching!"
Alex grinned. "I'm an adventurer. If I don't cook it, I become it."
He handed the bucket of perfectly sliced meat to the cook. "Ready for seasoning."
The chef was trembling. "Do you want to cook too?"
Alex nodded. "Sure! Can I see the recipe?"
The chef's jaw dropped. "Wash. Yourself. FIRST. You smell like blood and demon farts!"
Alex rolled his eyes, snapped his fingers, and a swirl of water magic spun around him like a divine shower.
Blood? Gone. Clothes? Immaculate. Hair? Fluffy.
Then a warm wind whoosh dried him in a blink.
One cook whispered, " your insane kid !"
Alex struck a pose. "You mean Gored-on Ramsay."
The kitchen groaned.
Darcy peeked through the window, snorting like this idiot again?
Elli was still standing in the doorway, hands on hips, trying not to laugh. "You're not allowed to be this weird and this useful at the same time."
Alex winked. "That's why I'm everyone's favorite problem."