“Smells like sun dried ass in here. No, way too moist for that. Who in the frozen hells passed the wet wind in my hall?” Hogan held a cloth over his face, waving his other hand around to disperse the vagrant odor suffusing every individual molecule of air in the place. A horrendous stench like... No, there were no equals to that. A dead corpse cut open and stuffed with rotten fish, blow torched just until the hair burnt off and then sprayed with bear musk. Kicked down a hill covered in skunkweed and pissed on by nine goblins and a herd of passing ox. Shit on by an Agoron man, spit on twice by an oni kijin, mated by an alfen and marinated in that horrifying 'curry' coming out of Assyria that was so prized by humans as a 'culinary miracle'.

“I don't get it. I don't smell a thing.” Tyr was buck naked but finally lucid. Too weak to resist Jura as she manhandled him, wiping him free of filth with cleansing cloths. Nearly a dozen of which were ruined to the point of being completely useless. Her rough hands finding every nook and cranny with expert precision, insisting that she administered to his care. Everyone else had left. Even Benny, who had carried him to the place and proceeded to vomit all over the tiled floor. Running away with tears in his eyes and sobbing apologies over a 'broken oath'.

“Seriously!?” Hogan cried. “How can you stand to be around something like that?”

“I think he smells quite nice.” Jura smiled. Her dark and full lips parting to rid her face of her accustomed hard look. No longer appearing so violent. Her otherworldly charm so magnetic that even Hogan found himself gulping, unable to smell much of anything any longer. As if his nasal passages themselves wanted to agree with her assessment in hopes of pleasing her. “As he always does.”

“...I thought orcs were supposed to have the best sense of smell out of all the races?” Tyr half-asked. Groaned as she put her hands where she shouldn't. Where no woman ever had before, and this fact seemed to amuse her more than anything else. Pinning him down and knowing that she was the only one who ever had. That violent look on her face returning, only matched by the vicious blush that threatened to overwhelm it.

“That's debatable, but some say we do.” She said. “But a good smell does not mean we are so sensitive and whiny. Predators have an advanced olfactory sense, but their sense of taste is far inferior to a, what you call, 'humanoid'. Orcs are simply built different. The best. We see to the truth of things.”

“And what the hell is the truth!?” Hogan wretched, resting against a pillar and pulling some kind of magic device out of his ring. A mask that settled around the lower half of his face, providing some relief though his eyes still watered.

“Oh, pipe down.” Jura scowled. “He's just awakened. A few more cleansing cloths and he'll be good as new. It's be easier if you let my fingers get up there, though...”

“Awakened!?” Tyr asked, attempting to rise before her powerful arms and disapproving look forced him down again. “That's not possible.”

It wasn't Jura, but Hogan that would deny him. “Nope. It is possible. Humans have a way of... Well, I don't really get it, personally, but it happens with many of the elder races. You see, alfen children are born incredibly powerful. More so than their parents, but they regress in their adolescence and have to build themselves back up again. They do this thing, it's called cultivation, or so I hear. Meditation, and all that ridiculous dogmatic drivel. Dancing and talking to animals, sipping tea and starting at trees or something. Of course, I've never seen it, but it fits the bill. Sinea declared war on the alfen after such a thing happened in their halls, if memory serves. Y'know, back when Sinea.... Existed. They can go through an awakening dozens times throughout their life cycle. Us dwarves? Born strong, grow old strong. No need for dancing with raccoons and hugging trees.”

The spira intake I experienced in the tunnel must've found those skillbooks as a stimuli to advance my core...? I'd guess. Tyr had experienced a similar thing a few times before, but never this bad, not even close. He'd felt the pain and discomfort that had passed. Those few times in recent memory where he'd had to use the bathroom despite the fact that he no longer seemed to pass waste in any manner. Usually it was no more than sweating, vomiting, or... Well... Weak as he was, he felt like a well that had been dug thrice as deep and was only waiting to be refilled. Eventually, his vessel would be far greater than its previous iteration, whatever implications it might have.

“Thank you, Jura.” He tried to smile up at her, but it came out as more of a pained scowl. She didn't seem to mind, laughing mischievously before hoisting him like a child and throwing him bodily into a steaming bath of herbal water specifically prepared for the occasion. Orcs knew this, too, but knew none of the discomfort in its experience. They celebrated it, an almost holy happenstance. For what passes as holy to orcs, that is. The other races were simply too weak. But Tyr, as she'd noticed, was strong enough. For a human, he had handled what appeared to be several awakenings all at once and he wasn't in a coma, which had to mean something.

–

“What's the word...?” Benny asked with concern, though he couldn't hide his anxiousness at being hit with a second dose of the incredibly potent odor. Inching around the door and eyeing Tyr nervously. Blissfully, the pool of blue-green liquid Tyr was soaking in seemed to do the trick in eliminating the stench. If there was ever a gift from the gods themselves, that had to be it.

“Still kind of wrung out.” Tyr replied. “But getting better.”

“That's good. But, uh... What happened there? Like.. What was that, exactly? Were you poisoned?”

“It's best not to ask, you'll just have to trust me that it's normal for... One of my kind, let's say. I think...”

Tyr had taken stock of the situation and used it as an opportunity to observe his body. All of the ills he'd 'fed' on, however it worked, had conglomerated in a mass of impurities. Like a magnet, drawing others of its like toward his sternum where it pooled up. Upon contact with the most dense area of his spira, it had literally exploded out of him. His body running into overdrive, a fever coming from his bone marrow. Expelling those, and a lot of his natural impurities with it. Striking a critical mass that his body was forced to fight. All of the collected ills were like a knot of yarn inside of him that had stopped him from advancing or growing until his spira had been compressed and forced outward. Nearly killing him. It still hurt, but as before – he felt like his capacity had undergone a qualitative change. All of the muck inside of him, so dense, had prevented him from performing this 'awakening' Jura was bizarrely aware of until the pressure had held him back until multiple phenomena occurred all at once.

He had emerged from the other side of the trial with indescribable changes wrought on ever aspect of himself. Both physical and not. His muscles felt looser, but stronger without any additional mass necessary. Hair thicker and more glossy, skin clearer. Bones denser. Not just his spira, but his mana as well. Both were different now. Brighter and more vivid when he let his gaze pass through his body in observation.

“Alright. I trust you.” Benny smiled. “What now? Do you have any plans? It's a bit late for breakfast, but we could catch an early lunch if you're up for it.”

“I don't think I've ever been so hungry in my life. I feel like I could eat a whole horse.”

–

“Oi...” Benny's eyes were shifty, leaning forward in his chair and alternating nervous glances between Tyr and the others. “How do you fit so much inside of your belly...?”

His voracious feasting was more monster than human. At a conservative estimate, Tyr had already torn through twenty kilos of meat alone. Sides, too. And the innkeeper was more than happy to keep taking his money. In fact, he'd been presented with some rather questionable dishes. Even monster meat, and eaten all of it. With the cook gratefully taking note of the things that Tyr liked, and didn't. As for the others, the feeling welling up inside of them hung on a thread between horror and astonishment. Even the bones found their way into Tyr's throat, somehow. He'd snap them in twin and suck the marrow greedily out of them before piling more food into himself.

“Is this healthy?” Yana asked. Beastkin tended to eat more than humans, but this was just insane. “Monster meat is poisonous, yes?”

“To humans and many other races.” Jura had long since abandoned any attempt at a challenge. She'd thought to, before bowing out before she'd be bedridden for the rest of a perfectly fine day. “Maybe he is half orc or something? You said you don't know who your real father might be? My guess is an orc, or a jotun. Not a chance you're all human in there.”

Tyr's mouth was too full to say much of anything. Once he'd taken that first bite of hot, greasy meat, he couldn't stop. He didn't really know where it all went, but as soon as it entered his body it was near immediately digested. No discomfort at all from the monster flesh. Though he was not so much a fan of most of it, too gamy with an undercurrent of something alkaline and metallic. Like copper dust and vinegar, mana did odd things to meat that certainly didn't help enhance the flavor.

Nearly an hour of nonstop eating, before he froze half way through a rack of mutton and frowned. “Guess I'm not hungry anymore.” It was disappointing. The mutton recipe had been created on the spot by the chef and was quite delicious. A yogurt based cucumber and garlic sauce that he was very fond of. Some telurian delicacy.

Coin passed hands as the various adventurers in the place settled their bets before leaving. All of them in a semi-fugue state of shock. Strange days, some might say. A man who possessed the ability to eat like an ogre with no ill effect.

“That's all?” Jura asked sarcastically. Everyone had taken their leave except for her, Benny, and Yana. Xavier had gone looking for Abe, growing bored at the spectacle after a while.

“You're sure we can't interest you in an actual horse?” Benny added. “It is absolutely insane that they had that much food available at the drop of a hat. Something like that could feed an entire village for months...”

“Well.” Yana said. “This place is meant to feed and board an entire army. I'm sure there's much more accumulated throughout the years in all the cities guarding astral gates. Girshan wants to know what we should be doing, though.”

“I don't care.” Tyr shrugged.

“That's rude.” She frowned.

He sighed, patting a belly that was just as hard and flat as before he'd begun. “I just meant that you can do whatever you want. As for me, Hogan and I were ordered to stay – in any case. For now, until Daito returns with reinforcements.”

“How long will that be?” Benny asked. “I don't mind staying, but with the gold embargo on the trading posts...” They were rapidly running out of money. Adventuring was profitable, but for the normal person, it was also an incredibly expensive vocation. All of the potions and magic artifacts one needed to buy to remain competitive. Many of them too expensive to buy outright, so they were loaned on credit until the debt was paid off.

“I wouldn't worry about that.” Tyr said confidently. “We can just get jobs. Or, like I said, you can leave when you want. You're not bound to the same rules that Hogan and I are. Though, I've never taken any oath either... So maybe I can just ignore the order?”

“...Jobs?” Benny asked. The word sounding alien and unfamiliar on his lips.

Tyr nodded. “I would very much like to get back to the forge, and in a place like this a decent runesmith is always in demand. You can work as my assistant, and we can split the profits on any augments I fit people with.”

“No disrespect, Tyr... But I don't think hard labor is going to keep all of us fed for long.” Yana drummed her fingers against the table. She wasn't broke, and she knew Tyr wasn't either – but as long as the guild refused to allow for a gold exchange – their time here could only be bought by trading contribution points for amenities. And the conversion rate was by no means favorable. Kept as expensive as realistically possible to prevent adventurers from loitering about the city after their permits had lapsed. “Assuming you eat like that every day, and that we continue to get free boarding in the Hunter's hall... We've got maybe a week of funds left between us. Contribution points are all well and good but I don't want to travel across the country with no money in my coinpurse.”

Tyr raised an eyebrow. “You know an apprentice runesmith from any of the notable academies can sell a decent set of augments on commission for anywhere between five to fifteen credits, right?”

“Silver credits?”

“No.” Tyr shook his head. “Gold credits. And I'm not an apprentice, I'm a journeyman. I... Think? At least I'm sure I could claim I was and nobody would know the difference. I can do augments, repairs, sockets, elemental oil anointment, or just forge new items to sell to other adventurers. Recharging a focus crystal or magic gem alone will get you between fifty silver and a single gold coin depending on its construction. While I have trouble with advanced enchantment, I'm pretty confident that I'll make a decent battery.”

“Are you serious?” Benny had a conflicted look on his face.

“About what?”

“You can really make so much money just by repairing someones gear?”

“Of course. I can't do leather, though. I'm not a tailor, but I can repair torn chain and beat dents out of a cuirass.”

“I got into the wrong business.” Benny frowned. Those who were educated on the practical applications of magic were all wealthy for a reason, he supposed. Tyr didn't see it because he'd grown up with a diamond spoon in his mouth. But even among adventurers, fifty gold was quite a lot. And yet Tyr, by logic, could make that in a single day if there was business for it. And business was booming in the city. The queue outside of all the forging halls was never ending, those who'd fought waiting for days just to get their repairs completed. Where there was money to make by some, there was money to be made by others.

“If I can do it, anyone can.” Tyr wasn't sure how true that was – but he wasn't talented. Just lucky, born with abilities others weren't. He was far from the most skilled runesmith and there were human masters that far exceeded him in every corner of the world. “Maybe--”

“Tyr of the Hunter's guild.” Bertrand entered the inn and cleared his throat to interrupt their conversation. Two armed men at his side and standing at attention. More paladins. Or 'warrior priests', rather. “You've been summoned.”

“...By who?” Tyr raised an eyebrow. The priests were nice and fit, tall and strong. Menacing enough, he supposed, but he made no attempt to move. Bertrand was quite obviously uncomfortable with their presence at his side.

“By the Grand Archivist. Please come alone.” Bertrand said, adding an 'alone' after the others attempted to follow him out of the inn. All Tyr could do was shrug apologetically as the priests flanked him a bit too close for comfort. Marching silent and hooded, iron masks covering their expressions, moving toward the tower at the center of the city.

“And what if I decide not to follow you around like that?” Tyr asked, genuinely curious.

One of the paladins snorted in sincere amusement, none of them looked offended at the alluded resistance. Bertrand frowned at him, not feeling much in the way of humor these days, even if the boy was joking, and he probably wasn't - knowing him. “I'll put your negotiation for payment on probate, and you won't see a single contribution point for the next 365 days.”

That made the decision easier, if nothing else.