Chapter 68: You... You’re the Anchor
The training yard was cold and dark, lit only by the faint glow of the guild’s warding runes. Dillon was hacking at a practice dummy with brutal, mechanical precision. His katana flashed in the dim light, each strike carving another line across the already-scarred wood.
Nathan leaned against the fence. "How are you holding up?"
Dillon didn’t stop swinging. "I’ve been cut off before. Verbally. Emotionally. Disapproving letters. Passive-aggressive messages through my brother. Financially is new."
The katana carved a deep gash across the dummy’s chest.
"But I talked to Valerie. After the debrief. She said Celestial Peak offers advancement stipends for Climbers who show exceptional performance. If I keep climbing, keep improving, I can earn more. It won’t be what my father was giving me—not even close—but it’ll be mine."
He stopped, breathing hard.
"I’ve never had anything that was mine before. Everything I owned, everything I used—it all came from him. The katana. The gear. The potions. All of it. And now..."
"Now it’s yours. What you earn. What you build."
Dillon lowered his katana. "My father gave me two weeks. That deadline is almost here. And for the first time, I don’t care. I thought I would. I thought losing the money would feel like losing a lifeline. But it doesn’t. It feels like finally being free."
Nathan nodded. "That’s worth more than money."
"Yeah." Dillon sheathed his katana with a clean click. "Yeah, it is. I just wish I’d realized that sooner."
"You realized it. That’s what matters."
Dillon was quiet for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. It wasn’t his usual theatrical grin, it was smaller. Quieter. More real.
"Thanks, Cross. For sticking by this insufferable samurai."
"Yeah, you’re very insufferable." Nathan chuckled
"I know. But now I’m insufferable on my own terms."
---
The recovery ward was quiet. The soft blue glow of the healing wards pulsed gently against the walls, their light casting slow, rhythmic shadows. Red was sprawled on a cushioned mat, its crimson wool bright and healthy, its four black eyes closed in contented sleep.
Garrett sat beside it, his back against the wall, his mace propped nearby. He wasn’t healing anything. He just liked being here.
Nathan found him there and sat down without speaking.
"Red’s fully healed," Garrett said after a moment. "The Heal Crystal did its work. He’s been feeling good. I just..."
He paused.
"I called that flank on Floor 4. Before you did. I saw the operative moving, and I just reacted. Didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Just moved."
"I noticed."
"I think I finally understand what you meant. About being steady." Garrett looked down at his hands.. broad, calloused, the hands of someone who’d been swinging a mace for months. "I’m never going to be the strongest person in the room. I’m never going to have the best summon or the flashiest skills. But I can be the one who sees things coming. The one who’s always in position. The one who doesn’t break when everything goes wrong."
He looked up at Nathan. His eyes were tired but steady.
"On the Tower of Ash, when Red shattered, I fell apart. I stopped communicating. I stopped thinking. I was so focused on what I’d lost that I forgot I still had a job to do. That can’t happen again. It won’t."
He paused.
"I want to be this party’s shield. With an Unbreakable will. Even more sturdy than Ted’s hardened Wool. Not just a mid-tier Climber who tags along because you saved his life once. A real shield. Someone the party can rely on."
Nathan met his gaze. "You already are. You just didn’t believe it yet."
Garrett nodded slowly. "I’m... starting to."
They sat in silence, the healing wards pulsing softly around them. After a while, Red stirred in its sleep, one of its four eyes cracking open to check on its master. Satisfied, it closed again.
Garrett smiled. It was a small smile, but it was real.
---
The common room was warm. The heat warmed had been turned on to low, the lights casting long shadows across the worn furniture. The party gathered one last time before dispersing for the night—Garrett and Dillon on the couch, Elise in the armchair by the window, Nathan near the Warmer.
Mirko was in bunny form on the arm of Nathan’s chair, her pink eyes half-closed. Kuro was a black shape on the windowsill, watching the stars.
Valerie joined them briefly. She’d changed into proper clothes and retrieved her TUFF GRANNY mug, which meant she was feeling more herself.
"You’ve done good work," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "All of you. Three Mid Class clears since the Tower of Ash. Solid intel on a hostile organization we didn’t even know existed. You’re handling yourselves like proper guild Climbers."
"We had good leadership," Garrett said, and Nathan couldn’t tell if he meant Valerie or himself. Maybe both.
"But you’re not done," Valerie continued. "The Tower of Ash is still out there. Uncleared. Unstable. And I think you’re ready to start thinking about it again."
Nathan met her eyes. "We’re ready."
"I know. But one more Mid Class clear, the Hollow Barrow’s sister Tower, the Tower of Silent Stones... and then we’ll talk about Ashwick." She raised her mug. "Get some rest. You’ve earned it."
She shuffled out, Boris padding behind her.
The party dispersed slowly. Garrett headed to the recovery ward for one last check on Red before he headed home. Dillon went to the training yard for a few more swings before bed. Elise paused at the door.
"Nathan."
"Yeah?"
"You... you’re the anchor. You know that, right?"
Nathan wasn’t sure what to say. But Elise didn’t wait for an answer. She nodded once and left.
Mirko’s voice came through the link, warm and amused. ’The ice mage is growing fond of you, Master. In her own frozen way.’
’She’s growing fond of the whole party.’
’Yes. But especially you.’
’i think the summoner is dense, Mirko’
Nathan didn’t respond. He was looking at the map of the outer regions on the wall, the triangle of collapse sites, the Tower of Ash still marked in red, the vast unknown territory stretching eastward toward the coast.
Somewhere out there, the Nemesis Court was watching. Waiting.
The Shepherd, whoever or whatever that was, was pulling strings that stretched back decades.
But here, in the guild hall, in the warmth of the common room, Nathan Cross had been surrounded by people who trusted him. People who had chosen to follow him, not because he was the strongest, but because he was steady. Because he didn’t break. Because he got back up. Because we was willing to be their anchor.
He looked at Moonlight, resting against the wall. The Tyrant’s Eye swirled in the riser, silver and shadow.
"This new life... Isn’t bad at all"
