John rubbed his temples.
Relying on the engineering techniques left behind by his father, along with the strange and diverse skills provided by the system, he had been living a relatively comfortable life.
But that was about it.
These medicinal materials were just too expensive.
A Crimson Flame Flower that had matured for a hundred years was worth at least 100 silver coins!
To put it into perspective, one silver coin was enough to cover the monthly living expenses of a family of three.
And that was just the price for one type of herb. As for the Mandrake that had aged fifty years, its value was nothing short of astronomical. He'd heard that even a ten-year-old Mandrake had been sold at the auction house for 300 silver coins!
Add the prices of all the required ingredients together, and even a rich heir would shed tears. Even a known spendthrift would feel the sting in their heart.
Still, John understood well—choosing the path of a combat class was inherently expensive. And at his current age, starting the combat path was already a bit late; he would need even more resources to make it work.
"Five years just to get started? That's way too long, isn't it?"
"It's mainly because your mana pattern is far too sparse," Celia said, shaking her head. "If you hadn't saved my life, I wouldn't bother helping a second-tier cripple like you, no matter how much money you offered."
John sighed and looked up at the sky, feeling more than a little exhausted.
With what he currently had, he couldn't even afford the scraps of those herbs.
Suddenly, he turned to Celia and asked, "If I become a combat awakener, will I be able to live longer?"
"In theory, yes. The higher the class level, the more vigorous the life force. After reaching the basic bronze rank, one could live to around two hundred years old. But in practice, it's not that simple."
"Combat class awakeners rarely live to die of old age. After all, they're constantly fighting, risking their lives. How many end up dying miserable deaths in battle?"
"Even if one doesn't actively engage in combat, the process of pushing one's limits and reinforcing the body carries its own toll. If you're not careful, you can leave behind injuries and hidden damage."
As she spoke, Celia raised her head and looked at the bright sky. She said slowly:
"I've already told you the formulas and the necessary herbs to transfer into the swordsman class. I've paid back the debt of saving my life. As long as you bathe using the medicine made from those herbs, even though it'll take a long time, you'll eventually become a class swordsman."
With that, she walked toward the courtyard gate, seemingly ready to leave for good.
"Celia, you're badly hurt. Shouldn't you rest and recover for a while?"
John called out to her, watching her departing back.
"I don't know exactly how you saved me last night," Celia replied without turning around, "but the people hunting me won't stop. The longer I stay here, the greater danger you're in."
With those simple words, she continued striding toward the gate without hesitation.
"The two black-robed men who were chasing you are already dead. It's safe here. You can leave after your injuries fully heal."
Celia froze mid-step and turned her widened eyes toward John.
"Do you even realize what you're saying? Those two black-robed killers were A-rank combat class swordmasters—one was silver rank, the other gold rank! You're saying you took care of them?"
The hierarchy of awakeners was extremely clear-cut.
Starting from bronze rank, it progressed through silver, gold, platinum, diamond...
It was already difficult for a person to become a bronze-ranked awakener, let alone silver or gold. In this small city, even a single silver-rank was considered top-tier, not to mention gold.
Without saying a word, John reached into the toolbox beside him and pulled out two gleaming mercenary medals.
These medals had been spat out by the Shadow Sweeper after it devoured the corpses of the two black-clad attackers.
The Shadow Sweeper only consumed flesh. These items were naturally considered its trophies.
Clang!
John casually tossed the two medals at Celia's feet, and they landed with a crisp metallic thud.
Celia's pupils suddenly shrank. "Impossible…"
Meanwhile, elsewhere...
"Where are they?"
Rocky's face was dark as soot as he glared at the black-clad men kneeling before him.
"This time," he said through gritted teeth, "a gold-rank swordsman, a gold-rank mage, and six silver-rank swordmasters were dispatched, and you're telling me they couldn't take down a single target?"
"Not only that, but most of them were killed or injured, and the two final pursuers are now missing?"
Under Lord Rocky's furious questioning, the assembled black-robed men trembled uncontrollably.
"Lord Rocky, she was hit by the mage's lethal poison spell and was severely wounded. She won't survive!"
"Her life is irrelevant!" Rocky roared, his eyes burning with fury. "What matters is that scroll she's carrying. Even if she's dead, we must retrieve her corpse and bring the scroll back!"
"If we fail in this mission, none of us—including me—will survive the wrath of our superiors!"
As he spoke, a terrifying aura burst forth from his body. It was as if a massive stone had slammed into the ground—the earth trembled beneath his feet.
The pressure was so intense that the kneeling black-robed men were creaking under it, bones grinding, as though they were about to be pulverized.
"No matter what method you use—find her, and bring back that scroll!"
The kneeling black-robed men didn't dare to hesitate. Gritting their teeth and bracing under the pressure, they scattered to begin the search.
"Useless fools!"
Watching their retreating backs, Rocky knew he had to prepare for the worst.
"She's severely injured. Dead or alive, she must still be somewhere within Winterhold. If we fail again... then Winterhold itself has no right to exist."
Back in the house, Celia returned to her room.
She stared intently at the two mercenary medals in her hand.
They were unmistakably the same medals worn by the two black-robed assassins who had pursued her—cold to the touch, as chilling as frozen steel.
One was clearly a silver rank medal.
The other—platinum rank.
How was that possible?
John was just an F-class, not even a bronze rank awakener yet. He was merely a Furniture Maker—how could he possibly have taken down those two?
Even though she had already noticed that John's physique was far stronger than that of an average person—perhaps even comparable to a low-tier combat awakener—those assassins were anything but ordinary.
Even if she hadn't been injured, she would've had to go all out to fight them.
How could someone like John eliminate them? And he'd done it with such ease?
She had already asked John how he had managed it.
But he only replied mildly, "I knew saving you might bring me some trouble... but it's nothing I can't handle."
Ordinary people wouldn't even think about intervening, let alone killing two awakeners. Just witnessing that kind of bloodshed would be enough to send most fleeing in panic.
After all, in this world, kindness was a cheap commodity—one that could easily get you killed.
Yet John, fully aware of the danger, had still saved her.
Clearly, he had some hidden trump card. What it was, she couldn't say.
"There's a high chance the poison in my body was neutralized by him, too."
She had her secrets.
But this so-called Furniture Maker definitely had more than a few of his own.
Maybe… staying here for a few days wasn't such a bad idea after all.