CHAPTER 138: GIFT

A/N: For those wondering why the group choose this kind of pub it’s because it’s a retro pub. There are lots of modern pub as well but this time the group preferred this retro style pub.

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The pub’s warmth wrapped around them like a comfortable blanket, the golden glow of lanterns swaying overhead and casting shifting shadows across the rough oak tables. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, frothy ale, and a faint trace of pipe smoke curling lazily in the corners. Laughter rang out from every direction—boisterous, unrestrained, carrying with it the easy camaraderie of cadets and staff who had survived another day in the academy’s relentless grind. Even though the academy was still under lockdown, it doesn’t stop people from staying true to their usual nature, it’s how humans are.

At one table, a group of burly second-year knights were locked in a drinking contest, mugs slamming onto wood as they roared in challenge. In the far corner, a few older instructors nursed their drinks in a more reserved manner, their quiet conversation punctuated by knowing chuckles. And in the center of it all, near a cleared space on the floor, a lively troupe of fiddlers played a quick, toe-tapping tune, sending a cluster of cadets into a clumsy yet cheerful dance. Boots thudded against the planks in time to the rhythm; someone even whistled along.

Adam leaned back in his chair, a wide grin on his face as he raised yet another tankard, foam spilling slightly down his thick fingers. Lux sipped more slowly, though his cheeks were already lightly flushed. Nero, for his part, matched Adam almost cup for cup—not out of a competitive spirit, but because the rich, spiced brew was simply too smooth to put down.

Blake, on the other hand, had lasted only a short while. With his head resting on one hand, the other lazily holding his nearly untouched drink, his purple eyes had grown heavy-lidded before long. He swayed slightly in his seat, muttered something incoherent, and then—just like that—slumped forward onto the table with a soft thud.

Adam looked down at him and smirked.

"Lightweight."

Lux chuckled quietly. "Not everyone’s liver is made of steel like yours, Adam."

Nero only shook his head in mild amusement, watching Blake’s slow, even breathing.

The night rolled on with more laughter, occasional bursts of applause for the dancing cadets, and a round of hearty cheers when one of the warriors from the drinking contest finally keeled over. But eventually, the energy at their table began to fade. The drinks had been plenty, the conversation comfortable, but the day’s weight—and the weeks before it—were starting to settle in their bones.

"Time to head back, don’t you think?" Nero finally said, glancing toward the window where the dark summer sky was faintly tinged with the silver of approaching midnight.

"Yeah, I agree," Lux said, pushing back his chair with a faint scrape. He rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders as though shaking off the pub’s warmth.

Adam clicked his tongue, clearly reluctant.

"Tch. I could’ve gone another round or two, but... fine. I suppose tonight’s celebration can end here."

They began gathering themselves, Adam slinging a half-conscious Blake over his shoulder without ceremony. Blake mumbled something that might have been a protest, but it was too muffled to be understood. They were halfway to the door when Adam suddenly stopped, his eyes widening slightly as if something important had just crossed his mind.

"Aha! I almost forgot," he said, grinning.

"Here’s a little something for you three."

Setting Blake gently—well, gently by Adam’s standards—onto a nearby bench, the dwarf prince reached into his spatial ring. The crowd’s noise faded into the background for Nero, Lux, and even half-asleep Blake as Adam began pulling items free.

First came the sword. Its blade gleamed under the pub’s lamplight, a steel-gray sheen laced with faint, intricate lines of silver and black metal, the pattern almost alive as it shifted subtly when the light caught it. The hilt was wrapped in a grip of deep crimson leather, and the guard was shaped like a pair of outstretched wings, sharp and elegant. Even without touching it, Nero could feel the balance, the craftsmanship, the way it seemed to hum faintly in the air as if eager to cut.

"This one’s for you, Nero," Adam said with an almost smug pride. "Forged to endure any kind of Law. It won’t shatter on you, no matter how hard you push it."

Nero, who rarely let emotions reach his face, found a flicker of warmth stirring in his chest. He reached out, fingers brushing the hilt before gripping it firmly. The weight was perfect—not too heavy, not too light.

"Adam..." His voice was softer than usual. "Thank you."

Adam grinned wider. "Of course."

Next came the wands. The first was long and slender, the wood a pale silver-white polished to a glass-like finish, with veins of faint blue running along its length like frozen lightning. At the tip, a single shard of crystal pulsed faintly with light. Adam handed it to Lux.

"This one’s yours. Crafted from frostwood and moon crystal. Perfect for channeling Light—and maybe some of your... other tricks."

Lux accepted it with a smile, the corners of his silver eyes crinkling. "It’s beautiful. Thank you, Adam."

The last wand was far darker—literally. It was made from an onyx-black wood that seemed to drink in the lamplight rather than reflect it, with faint streaks of deep violet along its length. The tip ended in a small, jagged piece of dark crystal, which seemed to pulse faintly as if with a heartbeat. Adam crouched next to the still-drowsy Blake and held it out.

"Yours," Adam said simply.

The daemon prince, Blake’s purple eyes cracked open, focusing lazily on the wand before he took it in hand. For a moment, he just stared at it, silent. Then, in a rare show of sincerity, he said, "Thanks... Adam."

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Adam pause, his smirk softening into something less teasing. "Don’t mention it."

The four stood there for a moment, the noise of the pub washing over them again—laughter, music, the clinking of mugs. It was just a small exchange, but in that moment, it felt heavier than any drink or toast could. A reminder of the bond between them, forged not just in battles, but in moments like this.

Then Adam straightened, swinging Blake back over his shoulder. "Alright, now we really head back before the I get all sentimental."

Nero chuckled. Lux shook his head in quiet amusement. And together, the four left the warmth of the pub, stepping into the cool summer night of the academy grounds.