Chapter 10: The Bath
"Ah, so we meet again. Gyra, was it?"
Basil strolled toward her with his usual confidence, barefoot and carefree.
She smiled, handing him a piece of warm bread.
"Yes, that's correct. I figured I owed you one, considering you went out of your way to help me… so I paid your bail. Although, it was fairly cheap. Did you not have ten GC on you?"
Basil laughed. "Well, I'm actually not from around here, and though it may not look like it… I have loads of money stashed elsewhere"
He rubbed his fingers together with a smug grin.
Gyra blinked, holding a blank expression.
"Sure… anyway, if you don't have a place to stay, you're welcome to stay at mine. I have a spare room that isn't being used anymore, as well as a bathhouse and some clothes that might fit you."
The moment the word bathhouse hit his ears, Basil shuddered. A spark of life jolted through his spine.
"Did you say bathhouse?"
"…Yes? And clothes."
Tears welled up in Basil's eyes. He clasped both of Gyra's hands with his own, full of emotion.
"You're too kind. Let's go. Right now."
Gyra stumbled back, startled by the sudden change in energy.
"U-uh… okay—yes, um… this way. I live on the outskirts of town."
⸻
They walked side-by-side, catching a few suspicious looks from townsfolk running late-night errands or stumbling out of taverns.
"Do the looks not bother you, sir?" Gyra asked, glancing over at him.
Basil waddled a bit as he walked, a goofy smile plastered across his face as he imagined sinking into a hot bath.
"I suppose not." she said.
"Oh, by the goddess—how rude of me. I never asked your name!"
She gasped.
"Basileus Narciss. But you can call me Basil. Only my close friends do, but someone like you—who's full of kindness and makes amazing pies? I shall grant you that privilege."
He said it in an overly elegant tone, placing a hand over his chest.
Gyra snorted with laughter. "You sure do talk funny, Basil."
⸻
After a short walk, they arrived at a modest home tucked behind a wooden fence, a stone path leading up to the front door.
"Well, this is my humble home. It's a little shabby right now thanks to that rainstorm last month—but she's spacious. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable."
Basil smiled warmly and gave a small bow.
"Truly… thank you, Gyra. I shall repay your kindness twofold. You have my word."
She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "Haha—it's no problem, really. Who knows what that bastard would've done to me or the shop if you hadn't stepped in, Sir Basil."
His brow lifted slightly. Truth be told, he had already checked her stats the moment they met. She was at least a third as strong as he was—easily strong enough to handle all three of Garthen's men without breaking a sweat.
But Basil held his tongue. He figured she had her reasons for hiding her strength.
"Anyway, shall we go inside?" she asked, walking up the path.
⸻
Gyra showed Basil the spare room—a simple space with a bed, a table, a chest large enough to fit a person, and some quill and ink. The rest of the house followed: kitchen, gathering room, her room… and finally, the bathhouse out back.
She drew him a hot bath and handed him a fresh change of clothes.
"I'll be inside. Yell if you need anything, okay?"
She shut the door behind her.
Basil stepped toward the steaming water, a bottle of milk in hand, and sank in with a long sigh.
"Haaaaahhhh… this is everything I dreamed of."
He took a sip of milk, savoring the warmth on his skin.
⸻
Memories bubbled up—his time in the cube, his parents, the revenge he still needed to take, the life he once had.
"I can't believe I'm actually out. This is real. I'm really sitting… in a hot bath."
He stood and walked to the mirror.
"Damn. I really need a haircut."
He pulled out his earth dagger from his inventory, cleaned it, and used his skill 'Go Away Can't You Tell I'm Busy' to summon a smaller, compact mana blade. Together, the two made makeshift shears.
He cut his hair, shaved his beard clean off, and gave himself a new style—longer than before, a bit messy, but intentional.
He dried off and slipped into the clothes Gyra had given him—clothes that once belonged to her late brother. The white shirt hugged his arms and chest tightly, the sleeves looser, giving it a sharp, roguish look. Brown leather pants and a black belt completed the ensemble.
⸻
When Basil walked into the house, Gyra was just walking out of her room carrying fresh sheets for his bed.
She froze.
She didn't recognize him at first.
Her gaze locked onto his sharp jawline, the glisten of his damp hair, the way his shirt clung to his frame.
"Gyra? Is everything alright?"
He rubbed a towel over his head.
She blinked quickly and blushed. "O-oh! Yes—everything is fine. I just… didn't realize how different you looked under all the dirt."
Basil laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She handed him the sheets, still trying to keep her cool.
"Here. For your bed. If you need a lighter blanket, just let me know."
"Thank you again, Gyra. You'd really make a great wife!"
He patted her head and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him.
Gyra stood there, frozen. Then turned, walked to her room, laid down in bed, and stared at the ceiling.
Her entire face flushed red.
⸻
Basil didn't need to sleep or eat—he could use mana as nourishment—but when the food was good, or the bed was warm?
He indulged.
This time, he was asleep in two seconds.
With a smile on his face.
⸻
The Next Morning
Basil was the first one up.
He cooked breakfast and set the table.
Gyra stumbled out of her room in her sleepwear, dragging her feet to the table and plopping into a chair.
"Good morning," Basil said cheerfully, sliding a plate in front of her. "Hope you slept well."
"Mmmm…"
"Great. So—I saw a library the other day, gonna go check it out. Then I'll swing by a blacksmith, grab some supplies for your roof leak."
"Mhmm…"
"Awesome. Enjoy breakfast. I'll stop by the tavern later, see how you're doing."
"Mmm…"
Basil left the house.
Gyra picked up her fork and took a bite.
Her face flushed again.
"…Even his food is good," she muttered.
⸻
Elsewhere
Captain Lace was in his office, quill scratching across parchment.
Knock knock.
"Come in," he called without looking up.
Adian stepped in and placed a cracked crystal on the desk.
"Sir, the Church of order gave us what they could recover from the surveillance crystal. Most of it's gone—only a few fragments remain."
Lace glanced at the damaged crystal.
"Anything useful?"
"I think you should see for yourself."
Lace rested his hand on the surface.
The memory played: Basil dancing like a lunatic… then bashing his head against the wall. The scene cut—Basil meditating. Then again—talking to a wall.
Lace frowned. "Looks like he died at least thirty times in the clips alone. How many years' worth of footage?"
"If the crystal had been intact—over 600. But only fragments were recovered."
"I see…" Lace leaned back. "I want every available executioner looking for this man. You're leading the search, Lieutenant. He may be the key to uncovering where Daravin got those demon corpses."
"Yes, sir," Adian said, bowing.
⸻
Back in town
Basil sat in the corner of the city library, surrounded by stacks of books. He read everything—history of the Althanis Empire, the legacy of Guardians, the reasons demon invasions stopped, and the mystery behind the population's rising power levels.
The Empire? Once a part of a 12-kingdom alliance. One of the kingdoms being Basils place of birth. When disaster struck the Althanis Kingdom, the others abandoned them. Bandits and demi-humans flooded in, killing the king and queen. Their daughter—Mirian Althanis, at only eighteen—rallied survivors and pushed back, eventually conquering all twelve kingdoms. She became the emperor. Her remaining family, 2 brothers, tried taking the throne from her. She publicly executed one and ripped the other apart with horses. This caused the people to fear her and gave her the nick name, Myrian the ruthless. She's now 26 and has been peacefully ruling the empire. Ruthless. Feared. Unchallenged.
As for the demons? Two gates remained permanently open—the 50th Gate in the south, and the 99th Hell's Gate in the north of the continent. The Demon Prince and the Queen of Hell each established kingdoms around their gates. With so much power being drawn to those two, the remaining gates weakened. Meaning no other Gate besides these two could be opened—but Guardians still had to face high-level threats. Demons who gained the ability to roam further than the distance allowed, monsters in the dark forest, and taking on Gates to get stronger. The Guardians could still invade gates, the gates just couldn't be opened from the other side for invasions.
And why were people stronger now? Every where Basil looked peoples level were much higher than when he was a Guardian 600 years ago. Even common shop keepers' levels averaged around 30 now. It was Because Guardian blood passed down generationally. Children born from two Guardians were born as Guardians themselves, with preset skill slots—limited, but powerful. Selective breeding had even become common for a time, but was quickly dismissed because the Goddesses punished them by limiting the skill slots of them, and leaving the natural guardians, ones who awakened through a gate, with unlimited skill slots.
Basil absorbed it all.
Then he headed to the blacksmith.
⸻
A sign with an anvil hung outside the smithy.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
A burly dwarf stomped out from the back, wiping his face with a rag.
"Whatd'ya want?"
Basil blinked. He'd never seen a dwarf before. "Just need some roofing materials. And I was wondering if you could adjust some armor for me."
He laid down two sets of leather armor—his winter and summer gear, now too tight from his growth but still top-notch.
The dwarf examined the material, eyes widening slightly.
"I've not seen quality like this in years. Materials'll run ya 30 GC. Armor adjustment? That'll be 1,000."
Basil frowned. He assumed GC meant Gold Coins—not Guardian Coins. His pouch had 800 gold in it. Not enough. He prepared a pouch of gold as to not raise suspusicion when he pulled gold out of thin air, his inventory.
"1,000? Isn't that a little steep old man?"
"Steep?! Materials cost me 500 alone! Plus labor. And who you calling old man, punk?"
"700," Basil offered.
The dwarf squinted. "You think you can bargain with me?"
"Fine. I'll take my business elsewhere." Basil reached for his armor.
"900." the dwarf said with a grunt.
"800." basil smiled, knowing that their wasn't a deal he couldn't obtain with his unique skill 'Haggle (SS)' that he believes he inherited from his father.
The dwarf groaned. "Fine, 800—but don't expect it to be quality work, ya hear?"
"You got it, old timer."
Basil dropped the pouch on the counter, grabbed his roofing supplies, and left.
"Youngsters now a days"
The dwarf scoffed, poured the coins onto the counter—
And froze.
"…These are gold coins…"
His eyes widened.
"What the hell…?"
[]
End of chapter notes:**
Stats Window:
- Name: Basileus Narciss
- Age: 22 (639)
- Level: 75
- Job: Eldritch knight
- Title: Goddess's Guardian
- HP: 200/200
- Mana: 32,000/32,000
- STR: 205
- VIT: 80
- INT: 170
- AGI: 112
- PER: 60
- XP to Next Level: 12,000/30,000
- stat points available: 62
- Skill Points Available: 10
Skills Window:
Basic:
- Innocence (F)
- The King (A)
- Swordsmanship (S)
- Mana Control (SSS)
- Charisma (F)
- Crafting (B)
- Longsword Mastery (S)
- Mana Manipulation (F)
- Rune Knowledge (B)
- Healing (C)
- Scholar (A)
- Mana Vision I Guess (C)
- phantom step (F)
- mana slash (D)
- Earth spike (B)
- body reinforcement (D)
- Kneel (F)
- nova bomb (A)
- Mana regeneration (S+)
- poison resistance (F)
- GO AWAY CAN'T YOU TELL I'M BUSY' (A)
Unique:
- Immortality (EX)
- Oversight View (EX)
- Haggle (SS)
- Misfortune (D)
Inventory
- HP Potions x1997
- MP Potions x2000
- Winter Clothes (C) (being worked on)
- Summer Clothes (C) (being worked on)
- bread x100
- jerky x100
- piece of Tess
- piece of Rob
- piece of Lark
- abomination horn x10 (S+)
- jagged dagger (?)
- mana sword (?)
Gold: 60,504
{}
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