Chapter 77: Marta’s Trophy
The portal deposited them into the cold Ashwick morning, and for a long moment, no one moved.
The sun was rising over the eastern hills, pale gold through the drifting ash. The air was cool and clean—impossibly clean after the volcanic furnace they’d spent hours fighting through. A light breeze carried the scent of wildgrass and woodsmoke from the village below. Birds were singing somewhere in the distance.
Nathan stood at the Tower’s entrance, Moonlight still in his grip, and looked back at the archway. The portal shimmered with residual heat, the volcanic stone around it still radiating warmth. Above it, the Tower of Ash rose against the sky—its black spire wreathed in smoke and embers, its crimson mana veins pulsing with their steady rhythm.
But something felt different now. The Tower wasn’t a monument to failure anymore. It was a monument to what they’d overcome.
"You’re staring," Mirko said with a faint smile.
She’d already returned to her humanoid form. Her armor caught the pale morning light, and the crimson glow of the Tower shimmered softly in her pink eyes.
Nathan smiled back.
"I’m just taking it all in. I don’t want to forget how this feels."
"You won’t" Kuro said through their bond. Curled up on his shoulder in her bunny form, she sounded as calm as ever. "Victories leave deeper marks than failures. They’re much harder to forget"
Nathan looked back at the Tower.
"Then let’s make sure we have plenty more to remember."
Garrett came to stand beside Nathan, his mace resting across one shoulder while Red padded happily at his side. The Mad-Sheep’s wool had settled back into its usual soft fluff, and there was an unmistakable spring in its step.
"Six weeks," Garrett said, almost to himself. "Six weeks ago we walked out of here with broken summons... and now..."
He let out a quiet laugh, unable to find the words.
"Now we’re Ash Reclaimers," Dillon finished for him.
He rested his katana against his shoulder as the Cloud Serpent coiled lazily around his neck, looking every bit as pleased with itself as its master.
"That’s an actual title." He grinned. "I’m putting it on my résumé."
He cleared his throat dramatically.
"Dillon Briggs. Ash Reclaimer. Special-Class Samurai..." He flashed the others a smug smile. "...and devastatingly handsome."
"You’re absolutely not putting ’devastatingly handsome’ on your résumé," Elise said without missing a beat.
She stood a few steps away, leaning lightly on her staff. As composed as ever—but the singed edges of her Winterhart cloak and the loose strands of hair framing her face betrayed just how hard the battle had been. Even so, there was a quiet satisfaction in her eyes that she made no effort to hide.
Dillon smirked.
"Watch me."
The four of them started down the winding path toward Ashwick.
The village was just beginning to stir. Thin trails of smoke rose from stone chimneys, someone worked the old well in the square, and the distant bark of a dog echoed through the crisp morning air. After everything they’d endured inside the Tower, the simple sounds of ordinary life felt strangely comforting.
By the time they reached the first row of cottages, Marta was already waiting in her doorway.
She took one look at them—dust-covered, exhausted, and somehow still standing—and a broad smile spread across her face.
"You did it." It wasn’t a question. "You actually cleared it."
"Told you we would," Nathan said.
Marta looked at them for a long moment before slowly shaking her head.
"In fifty years of running this inn, I’ve watched more adventuring parties than I can count come through these doors. Most of them talk like they’ve already conquered the world." A knowing smile tugged at her lips. "Most leave with their heads hanging."
Her gaze settled on Nathan, then drifted across the rest of the party.
"But you came back."
She nodded once, firmly.
"People think clearing the Tower is the hard part. It isn’t. Coming back alive—that’s what matters."
Stepping aside, she pulled the door open.
"Now get in here. The lot of you look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days. I’ll make breakfast."
Dillon blinked.
"Wait... on the house?"
Marta chuckled.
"Think of it as an investment. Once people heara new party of Ash Reclaimers stayed here, business will take care of itself."
She waved them inside.
"Now quit standing there before one of you collapses on my doorstep."
---
The common room was warm, the AC unit humming its quiet, familiar rhythm. Electric lamps cast soft light across the wooden tables. The Tower of Ash was visible through the window, its black spire catching the morning sun.
Marta brought out breakfast in waves. Eggs. Bacon. Thick slices of toast with butter melting into the corners. A pot of strong coffee and another of green tea. A bowl of fresh fruit that must have been imported from the capital. The party ate like people who hadn’t had a proper meal in days.
When the plates were nearly empty, Nathan reached into his inventory and produced the scale.
It was palm-sized, its surface shifting between crimson and gold as it caught the light. Residual warmth radiated from it—not the oppressive heat of the Tower, but a gentle, living warmth. The Pyre Wyrm’s scale.
"You said you wanted something for the wall," Nathan said, setting it on the table.
Marta stared at it. Her gruff composure cracked, just for a moment. "I was joking. Mostly." She reached out and touched the scale. "This is... Nathan, this is worth more than my inn. You know that, right?"
"Then it’s a fair trade for the stew."
Marta laughed—a warm, genuine sound. She picked up the scale with reverent hands and carried it to the wall above the bar, where a collection of Climber memorabilia already hung. A cracked summon stone. A faded guild pennant. A photograph of a party long retired.
She hung the Pyre Wyrm’s scale in the center.
"The Ash Reclaimers," she said, stepping back to admire it. "First party to full-clear the Tower of Ash in three years. You’ll be legends in this village. I’ll make sure of it."
---
The guild bus idled at the edge of the village square. Old Marren was in the driver’s seat. He took one look at the party as they boarded and grunted.
"Heard you cleared it."
"Heard correctly," Nathan said.
Marren nodded slowly. "Good." He faced forward. "Took you long enough."
The bus rumbled westward. The Tower of Ash receded behind them, its black spire growing smaller in the rear window until it was just another silhouette on the horizon.
