My Grim Reaper Class: I can kill anything.

Chapter 72: Rendel

*Day 33 since the Seal’s activation.*

Nathan drove the cart all morning.

The landscape kept changing. The hills grew steeper. The trees began to take different shapes, with smaller leaves and thicker trunks. The air had a wet wood smell Nathan hadn’t felt in weeks. And in the distance, the Threshold Mountains looked sharper each moment, their peaks already visible under the clear midday light.

Liaraen read for the first two hours.

Then she lowered the book. Looked at the road. And with her calm voice:

"Nathan."

"Yes?"

"How long have you had the Seal?"

Nathan thought for a moment.

"About a month. A little less."

"Less?"

"Thirty days, maybe."

"Understood."

"Why?"

"Because you just went up three levels and unlocked three new derived skills in two fights. In thirty days since receiving the Class. And apparently none of the bearers documented by the Church or by my house’s archives have had that trajectory."

"Kalen told me the same thing."

"Kalen was right."

"Apparently."

They continued.

Around midday, the road began to show clear signs of regular traffic. More pronounced cart tracks. Remains of campfires near the path’s edge. A wooden sign at a crossroads, with carved inscriptions pointing in different directions.

Nathan stopped the cart beside the sign to read it.

"Sprout."

"Yes?"

"The sign says Rendel to the north. Karvath to the east. Sorros to the south. Aelthoren to the northwest."

"Understood."

"Rendel isn’t just a road to Aelthoren."

"It’s a crossroads."

"A crossroads of routes to several kingdoms."

"Yes. Selene mentioned it, but I didn’t give it much importance. Apparently it’s a commercial exchange point between humans, elves, and apparently some northern races."

"Which ones?"

"The Kalindar. The Tren-Ferth. Some lesser ones. Most have territories in the mountains or to the east."

"Interesting."

They continued.

Around mid-afternoon, they rounded a bend. And Rendel appeared at the end of the path, at the foot of a small rise overlooking the Threshold Mountains.

And it was considerably larger than Nathan had expected.

---

Rendel wasn’t a settlement.

It was a town.

With two-story houses built of stone and wood. With cobblestone streets. With a central plaza visible from the entrance path. With a guild building identifiable by the banner of an open eye over a crossed sword. With what appeared to be an inn with guest rooms.

And with different inhabitants moving between the buildings.

Nathan stopped the cart at the town’s edge.

He watched them.

Elves with darker skin than Liaraen’s—apparently from a region of eastern Aelthoren Nathan didn’t know. Humans with clothes suggesting origin from the kingdom of Karvath, with marks of a god Nathan didn’t recognize. And two other figures that were neither human nor elven.

One considerably shorter, about a meter and a half, with skin a color between gray and green and with pointed but straight ears. Another tall, almost two and a half meters, with golden skin and what appeared to be small horns on the forehead.

"Sprout," Nathan said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Those two buying fruit at the stall beside the guild."

"The short one is a Kalindar. The tall one is a Tren-Ferth."

"What are they doing here?"

"Kalindar are professional merchants. Apparently the kingdom of Karvath uses them as commercial intermediaries between humans and elves. Tren-Ferth are ceremonial warriors from the north. They sometimes come to Rendel to contract with minor guilds."

"Understood."

"The Veil apparently controls Rendel according to what Selene mentioned, but to outside observers it’s a normal commercial town."

"Good."

Nathan drove the cart into town.

No one looked at them specifically. Apparently Rendel received new arrivals frequently enough that one more cart wasn’t notable. Only a couple of people gave them a nod of courtesy as they crossed the main road.

Nathan drove toward the inn.

The inn was large. Three stories. With a wooden sign at the entrance that read "The Crossing Rest." An older man sat at the entrance, on a bench, smoking a small pipe with the calm of someone who’d spent decades watching carts arrive and leave town.

Nathan stopped the cart.

He climbed down.

"Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon."

"We need lodging. Two nights."

"How many people?"

"Two."

"Separate or shared rooms?"

"Shared with separate beds."

"Acceptable. Five silver coins per night. Ten total."

"Acceptable."

Nathan paid. The man handed him a small wooden key with a carved number.

"Room seven. Second floor. Stables in the back for the horse. Dining room opens in two hours for dinner. Shared baths at the end of the hall."

"Thank you."

Nathan turned back to the cart.

Before climbing up, the man spoke again.

"You’re Veil travelers."

Nathan looked at him.

"How do you know?"

The man tilted his head slightly.

"Selene sends letters when someone’s going to pass through. Your letter arrived four days ago."

"Understood."

"There’s no network here. Rendel is a commercial crossroads. The Veil has informants but no formal organization. I’m one of those informants. Information reaches me because I run the inn. I don’t actively participate."

"Understood."

"If you need anything from the town, let me know. If you need to cross the border discreetly, let me know too. The official crossing to Aelthoren is a day’s journey from here."

"Thank you again."

The man nodded and kept smoking.

Nathan climbed onto the cart. Drove to the stables. Tended to the horse. Then he and Liaraen went up to the room with their bags.

---

Room seven was spacious.

Two separate beds. A table between them. A window overlooking the town center. A small washroom with a pitcher and bowl for washing. Everything was clean, without luxury but functional.

Nathan set the bags beside one of the beds.

"Sprout."

"Yes?"

"We’re eating in two hours."

"Okay."

"Before dinner, I want to go to the guild."

"The guild?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"The open eye over the sword banner—apparently it’s a minor guild. In a crossroads like Rendel, they probably have short missions available. Combat with nearby forest creatures. Local things. Low pay, low risk."

"Nathan."

"Yes?"

"You’re going to accept a mission?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I want to test the new skills in real combat, not just training. And because a minor guild isn’t going to ask questions if I accept a mission and complete it quickly. It’s the cleanest opportunity I’ll have before crossing into Aelthoren. After Aelthoren, the dynamic is different."

Liaraen thought about it.

"Understood."

"Are you coming?"

"Yes. But as an observer. Not a participant."

"Acceptable."

They left the room.

---

Rendel’s guild was considerably more modest than Greywall’s.

A one-story building. Main hall with a counter at the back. Mission board on the right wall. Approximately ten people inside. Adventurers of various races, apparently each on their own business. A receptionist at the counter—an older dark-skinned elf with her hair pulled back in a simple bun.

Nathan approached the board first.

Approximately twenty missions were pinned. Nathan quickly reviewed them. Most were standard types. Escorts. Deliveries. Searches. What caught his attention was a mission with the red combat seal.

*Infestation elimination requested in Rondel Forest, two hours north of town. Approximately eight to twelve documented minor creatures. Difficulty rank: Low D. Payment: 30 silver coins.*

Nathan took it from the board.

He approached the counter.

The receptionist looked at him with the naturalness of someone who’d processed thousands of missions in her career.

"Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon."

"I’m here to accept this mission."

He extended the parchment.

The receptionist reviewed it.

"Rank?"

"F. From the Greywall guild."

"Name?"

"Nathan Voss."

The receptionist took out a small verification device, similar to the one Nathan had seen in Greywall but considerably older. Nathan placed his thumb on it. The device activated. Confirmed his registration and rank.

The receptionist looked at him.

"F-Rank."

"Yes."

"Low D-Rank mission. Eight to twelve creatures. Going alone?"

"Yes."

"Hunter Voss."

"Yes?"

"I’m not saying no. Rendel’s guild accepts Hunters of any rank who decide to accept any mission. It’s a liberal policy by design. But I’m asking by protocol. Are you sure?"

"I’m sure."

"Your life, not mine."

Nathan signed the register. The receptionist filed the parchment at the counter.

"When you complete the mission, bring evidence. Fangs, claws, heads if appropriate. Payment is released upon confirmation."

"Good."

"Good luck."

"Thank you."

Nathan turned.

Liaraen was standing by the door with her usual calm posture. They left together.

In the plaza outside the guild, about ten meters from the building, there was a raised stone platform with a circle carved in the center. About twenty people surrounded the platform. And two figures within the circle were fighting.

Nathan stopped for a moment.

"What’s that?"

Liaraen looked.

"The Magic Plaza. It’s a tradition of commercial towns. Anyone can challenge another to non-lethal combat. People pay to watch. The fighters get a share of the payment based on how long they last or how entertaining they are."

"Understood."

"Apparently popular entertainment."

"Apparently."

Nathan watched for a moment.

A Tren-Ferth with a short sword against a human with a spear. Both were apparently at a similar level. Neither was using major magical abilities.

Nathan processed it.

*Interesting. After the mission, if I have mana left, apparently I can test combat without major skills at the plaza.*

*Noted.*

"Sprout."

"Yes?"

"Let’s get the horse. We’re heading out on the mission now. I’ll be back before dinner."

"Acceptable."

They turned to go back to the inn.