CHAPTER 63: NUMBERED SOLDIERS

Chapter 62 – Numbered Soldiers

Ethan stood with his arms crossed, eyeing the figure before him.

Fallen Empire Soldier – Unnamed.

Level: 11.

He tilted his head, unimpressed.

"Hmm? Only level eleven? Still, that’s good enough. But... unnamed? Do I really have to give them names? All ten of them?" He groaned under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "And what happens when I get even more? Hell no, I’ll drown in names."

Straightening, he raised his voice with mock authority.

"You are Number One. You’re Number Two. And you—Number Three."

He summoned the rest in a neat line, his lips curving with smug satisfaction as he pointed at each in turn.

"Four, Five, Six... Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten. Perfect. Done. Easy."

The soldiers, expressionless as statues, accepted the decree without complaint.

Satisfied, Ethan dismissed them back into his summon space.

Beside him, Lirael blinked, then stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and exasperation.

"Did you just... name your summons with numbers?!" Her voice cracked between a laugh and a groan. "Just how lazy can you be?! They’re yours!"

Ethan scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah, yeah... look, I’m terrible at names. Even worse at remembering them. And I don’t want the hassle of naming every single one once I get more soldiers. Let’s say... a proper name will be a reward for exceptional performance."

As he spoke, a faint ripple passed through the tether of his summoning bond. Ethan stiffened slightly, sensing it.

"...Huh. They’re... excited?"

It was bizarre. The soldiers, usually so stoic, stirred with faint emotion within his summon space—like soldiers awaiting recognition.

Lirael blinked at him in utter disbelief.

"You... you’re serious." She took a step closer, her golden eyes narrowing. "Wait... more soldiers? Are you saying you’ll get more?"

Ethan raised a brow, completely casual.

"Of course. I’m fairly confident my next class advancement quest will unlock more. Why do you look so bewildered?"

"Bewildered? Bewildered?!" Lirael threw up her hands. "Do you even know what it means to have ten private soldiers bound only to you? People would kill for that! And now you say you’ll get more?! Do you even realize how—how utterly powerful that makes you?"

Ethan lifted both palms in mock surrender.

"Now, now, calm down. Isn’t that better for us? Even better when those people come to drag you back." His smile curved sly, a sharp edge in his tone as he leaned closer. "They’ll never expect that you have such a powerful ’master.’"

He put deliberate weight on the word master.

Lirael’s lips parted, ready to snap back, but the expression faltered. Her eyes softened as she realized—he still thought of her safety first.

Ethan glanced skyward. The sun dipped low, painting the horizon in molten orange and shadowed crimson. He breathed in the cooling air, then looked at her, a wolfish grin tugging his lips.

"Looks like my tests are done. Time to head back to the village. I’m getting restless to see you in the things I bought for you, my beautiful maid."

The tender warmth on Lirael’s face instantly shattered. She puffed her cheeks and whipped her head away with a sharp, indignant "Hmph!"—her ears burning red.

The village came into view as dusk settled. Lanterns flickered to life along the dirt streets, the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread wafting through the air. Ethan and Lirael slipped into the busiest tavern they could find, the warm glow of the hearth chasing away the evening chill.

The place was alive with noise—tankards clinking, laughter, the strum of a bard’s lute in the corner. A serving girl brushed past with a tray piled high, the scent of spiced stew making Ethan’s stomach grumble.

"Let’s eat here," Ethan said without hesitation, steering Lirael toward an empty corner table. His excitement made him move almost too quickly, as if everything else were just a distraction from the real anticipation gnawing at him.

Lirael sat stiffly, hands folded in her lap, eyes darting around. She wasn’t even looking at the food—her mind swirled with thoughts of him, of what he had bought earlier, of what he might demand tonight.

They ordered quickly—a steaming pot of stew, a loaf of crusty bread, and mugs of frothy ale. Ethan devoured his share with a vigor that made it clear his thoughts were already elsewhere. Lirael, on the other hand, only nibbled, stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking.

When the last crumbs were gone, Ethan stood abruptly.

"Alright. That’s enough. Let’s get a room."

He strode to the counter, his impatience almost palpable. The innkeeper, a stout man with a balding head and sharp eyes, sized him up as he leaned forward on the counter.

"One room. For the night." Ethan’s voice was brisk, rushed.

The innkeeper’s gaze flicked briefly to where Lirael waited by the stairs. Her delicate features, the faint blush on her cheeks, the way she shifted nervously under the attention—it all painted a very obvious picture. The man’s brows lifted slightly, then he smirked knowingly.

"Of course, sir. One room. Double bed. Top floor."

Ethan barely even listened, tossing a few silver coins onto the counter. "Good. Done. Give me the key."

The innkeeper’s grin widened as he handed it over. "Enjoy your stay."

Lirael’s ears twitched, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled in frantic thoughts. He’s in such a hurry... does he really mean to—

Ethan was already halfway up the stairs, waving for her to follow. She hurried after him, her pulse hammering against the collar at her throat.

The door creaked open to reveal the room—warmly lit, cozy, with polished wooden walls and a single broad bed neatly made with fresh linen. A bowl of flowers sat on the table by the window. The faint smell of lavender hung in the air.

Ethan dropped his pack carelessly onto a chair and stretched with satisfaction. "Finally. Privacy."

It was only then that Lirael’s gaze landed on the bed. One bed. Her face went crimson, her hands clutching the hem of her skirt.

"E-Ethan... this... this room..."

He blinked at her, confused. "What about it?"

Her voice caught in her throat. "T-there’s... only one bed."

Ethan turned, glanced at it, then smacked his forehead. "Ah, damn it. I forgot to say ’two beds.’" He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Guess I was too excited to think straight."

Lirael’s blush deepened. "You...!"

He leaned against the wall with a sly grin. "What? Don’t tell me you’re the one with your mind in the gutter. I didn’t say anything."

She puffed her cheeks, trying to look offended, but her ears betrayed her with how red they were.

"You’re impossible..." she muttered, turning away sharply.

Ethan only chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of her fluster.

Ethan chuckled at her flustered state, then waved a dismissive hand.

"Don’t worry, don’t worry—I’ll get us another room later. Relax."

Then, with a sly grin, he snapped his fingers. His storage space shimmered, and in the next moment, the pile of neatly folded garments he had bought earlier appeared on the bed. Silken fabric, lace, and ribbons glimmered faintly in the candlelight.

"You, however," he said, voice low with amusement, "have some clothes to try." His smirk deepened.

Lirael’s eyes widened, her face going crimson as she recognized exactly what kind of clothes they were. She clutched her hands against her chest, glaring at him through trembling lashes.

"Y-you...! I—I’ll take a bath first!" she stammered, nearly tripping over her own words.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, chuckling under his breath.

"Tsk. Guess I’ll have to wait then. Fine." He shrugged, stretching lazily. "Might as well take a bath myself."

They both grabbed fresh towels from the inn’s shelves and headed downstairs. The tavern’s bathing area was divided into two sections, separated by a sturdy wooden wall. Steam curled up from the stone baths, carrying the scent of herbs and lavender oil that the inn used to soothe weary travelers.

A serving girl guided them with polite bows.

"This way, sir. The men’s bath is to the right. And the lady may proceed to the left."

Ethan shot Lirael a playful grin as they parted ways.

"Don’t take too long, my maid. I’m impatient."

Her ears twitched violently, and she spun on her heel with a sharp "Hmph!"—marching into the women’s side with the cloths ethan provided tucked beneath her arms without looking back, though her flushed cheeks betrayed her.

Ethan chuckled, stepping into the men’s bath. The warmth of the steam wrapped around him instantly, loosening his muscles. "Well," he murmured to himself as he sank into the water, "I suppose a little patience will make the reward sweeter."

—————

Author’s Note:

For the the misunderstanding that some of you might go through about author having some weird ’tastes’.

Ahem! For clarification, it not ’me’.. it yours truly...the main character Ethan Cross specifically.

So don’t accuse me for anything, I am sure you guys know that an individual has their own will and personality...and that individual doesn’t happen to be ’me’.