CHAPTER 60: 60: THE STRANGER RETURNS II

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"I’m staying for a while," John said. "Got some upgrades to make. Maybe a pancake debt to repay."

Fizz’s ears perked up. "Pancake debt?"

"You remember what I said after the last battle," John said with a smile. "You earned it."

Fizz burst into applause. "Pancake festival is coming! I shall name it ’The Redemption of Fur Day.’ Can I cook?"

Sera smirked. "Fizz, You better not burn down the kitchen again."

"That was an accident," Fizz muttered.

"You put your fire and cooking oil into a mushroom pot." Sera said. "It exploded."

"...It looked like syrup. Don’t bring up my past. I don’t like it." Fizz said by giving Sera a look.

They all shared a laugh, the kind that broke tension like sunlight after stormclouds. Even Gael let out a bark of amusement.

As they walked John noticed how the people watched from far or paused in their chores to see him pass. Some offered polite nods. Others avoided eye contact entirely.

Gael led them to the storehouse near the north end of John house. Now it has been converted into Fizz Holdings’ base of operations. It wasn’t much to look at, but inside, the space had been transformed. Workbenches, smelting pots, wooden racks filled with gear, and even a small side table with tea and salted nuts.

Fizz darted inside first and shouted, "Behold! Our majestic lair of doom!"

One of the blacksmiths, a younger man with soot-covered eyebrows and a pair of gloves too large for his hands, looked up from the corner. "Boss John Lord Fizz?"

"Hey," John said, waving.

The man dropped the hammer and nearly tripped over himself standing. "Sir! The prototype’s in the back! And we’ve stored all the uncommon ones separately as per instruction!"

Fizz whispered loudly, "Wow, you’re like a cult leader now."

John ignored him. "Thanks. I’ll check it soon."

After touring the makeshift forge and giving praise to the workers, John finally sat down in the corner office. It was more like a plank on crates with a cushion. Gael pulled up a stool and passed him a small ledger.

"This is everything," Gael said. "Inventory, coin reserves, we got few orders from nearby villages, and the tools storage logs. We’ve kept everything tight. But you’re the founder. What’s your move now?"

John stared down at the ledger for a long moment, then looked up. His mind spun with ideas. The Void Howler fight had shown him what he lacked. Precision. Strength. Tools.

He needed better gear. A way to combine magic with his modern understanding.

"I need a lab," John finally said. "A real one. With elemental mana fields, rune arrays, stabilizers and everything."

Gael raised a brow. "Expensive!"

John nodded. "Then we’ll find a way to fund it. Sell tools, take local work, hunt beasts. Fizz Holdings is just getting started."

Fizz clapped. "That’s the spirit! I can already see the banners. Doom, fire, glory, and breakfast foods!"

Sera chuckled. "I’ll get to work on weapon commissions. I will spread your name in villages I visit. Gael and others are good, but they still make everything a little too... thick."

"Thick is safe," Gael grunted.

"Thick is heavy," Sera shot back. "You all will get better in time."

John leaned back, watching them bicker with a faint smile. Somehow, despite everything, this place already felt more like home than the Duke’s house. These people had accepted him — not with open arms, but with respect earned through effort.

And he had more to prove. "Tomorrow," John said, standing up. "We start expanding."

Fizz floated up and saluted. "Operation Pancake Doom begins!"

"Not that kind of expanding," John sighed.

The sun dipped low outside, casting golden light through the windows. And soon, the real work would begin.

A few moments later...

The forge’s warmth lingered in John’s clothes as Gael finished updating him on the contracts and Sera leaned against the doorway, arms folded. The scent of hot iron and sawdust filled the room, and sawdust settled over the benches and tools.

"You will need to be up early tomorrow," Gael said. "Two merchants from the East Village are coming through. It is a good chance to sell some weapons. It will be our first official order."

"I will be there," John said.

Sera studied him for a moment. "Good. Before that, you should wash. You have been gone half a month and you look like you slept in a thicket. Merchants notice these things."

Fizz, perched on a workbench, lifted a paw. "I have been saying this. He smells like bark." He paused and nodded to himself. "Yes. Still a very good line."

Sera gave Fizz a side look. "I did not need the poetry. The point stands."

John’s jaw tightened. "I have been busy."

"I know," Sera said, her voice gentler. "But do not let effort be ruined by first impressions."

The forge felt suddenly closer and heavier. John’s gaze slid to a shallow bucket in the corner where the smiths rinsed their hands. The lamplight shivered across its surface. The silver ripple became a sunlit pond. The clink of cooling metal turned into muffled laughter.

(A flashback Five Years Earlier...)

He was twelve, knees scraped from drills, breath still quick in his chest. The Duke’s estate pond lay smooth as glass beneath pale arches. He did not hear them approach. Five shadows fell over the stone. Five smiles that were not kind.

"Father says you are not one of us," the first brother Julian said, bright and easy, like a joke. "Learn your place. Why did you touch the pond water?"

Hands shoved him between the shoulders. The edge vanished. Water closed over him with the weight of stone. He kicked. He clawed. A fist held his collar and drove him down. Sound warped into a distant drum. His chest burned. His mouth opened against his will. The cold poured in. The world thinned to pain and light and then to a narrow black tunnel.

A big hand seized his forearm and wrenched him up. Air hit like fire. He coughed and choked and blinked against the glare while footsteps fled across marble and laughter faded into the hedges.

Whoever had pulled him free was gone before he could see a face. He only saw the hand of his saviour. Only the taste of iron remained. No one in that house would care. But who was that man who pulled him out of water still remained a mystery to John.

(The flash back ended.)

The forge returned in a blink. The surface was still. Sera’s voice reached him through the hum of the bellows. "John. What are you wondering about? You look so pale."

"I will handle it," he said quietly.