Lyra stared at the hovering, ethereal document, her breath caught in her throat. In all her years of training at the Sanctum, studying ancient texts and witnessing the casting of divine miracles, she had never seen or heard of magic like this. It was not a spell scroll, laboriously inked with rare pigments and arcane runes. It was not a holy blessing, bestowed with chant and prayer. It was clean, concise, and terrifyingly modern in its efficiency. It was a contract, and it pulsed with an authority that felt as fundamental as gravity.
Her training screamed at her that such power must come at a terrible price. Deals with otherworldly entities were the subject of countless cautionary tales, always ending in the loss of one's soul or an eternity of servitude. Yet, as her eyes scanned the glowing script, she found no such insidious clauses. The terms were exactly as the strange manager had stated them: one month of absolute safety in exchange for one of her skills. The language was clear, devoid of the flowery, ambiguous phrasing common to magical pacts. It was… fair. Frighteningly fair.
She looked at Leo. He was watching her expectantly, his expression not of a predator waiting to spring a trap, but of a patient landlord waiting for a new tenant to sign the lease. He seemed completely at ease with the impossible document floating between them. To him, this was just business.
What choice did she have? Outside these walls, the Order of the Sun, the brotherhood she had dedicated her life to, was hunting her like a rabid dog. Every road was a trap, every town a potential pyre. Here, in this strange, silent inn, she had witnessed power that made the Order's holy warriors look like petulant children. Here, she was safe. The price was a single skill. It was the best deal she was ever going to get.
Taking a steadying breath, she made her decision. "I agree to the terms."
"Excellent," Leo said, his professional smile returning. "Just place your hand on the signature line designated for the 'Tenant.'"
Lyra slowly rose to her feet, ignoring the protest of her wounded side. She stood before the glowing contract, a knight of a holy order about to sign a pact with an unknown power. With a hand that trembled only slightly, she reached out and pressed her palm against the shimmering, blank line.
The moment her skin made contact, the contract flared with a brilliant but gentle golden light. A warmth spread from her hand up her arm, a pleasant, validating sensation. The blank line filled itself in, her name, 'Lyra,' appearing in the same elegant script as the rest of the document. A faint chime, like a single, perfect crystal bell, echoed in the hall. The contract had been sealed.
Then, the document dissolved into a thousand motes of light that flowed through the air, not towards her, but towards Leo.
Leo braced himself, not knowing what to expect. The motes of light swirled around him before sinking into his chest. It didn't hurt. It wasn't even uncomfortable. It was like nothing he had ever experienced.
It was a feeling of sudden, absolute knowing.
One moment, the concept of 'aura' was a vague, fantastical notion from games and stories. The next, he understood it with the ingrained certainty of a master swordsman. He understood the specific breathing techniques required to draw out one's inner energy, the mental focus needed to shape it, the way a knight's will could turn that intangible life force into a palpable, protective shroud or a razor-sharp extension of their blade. It wasn't just academic knowledge; it was instinct. It was a memory of a thousand hours of practice he'd never performed, settling into his muscles and his mind as if it had been there all along.
He knew, with the same certainty that he knew his own name, how to control his aura.
As the last mote of light faded, the familiar blue screen popped into existence before him.
[Tenant 'Lyra' has paid rent.]
[Value Acquired: Skill Knowledge]
[New Skill Learned: [Basic Aura Control] (F-Rank)]
[Description: The fundamental art of manipulating one's life force. Allows for basic reinforcement of the body and the emission of a faint aura. A mandatory prerequisite for all advanced Aura Arts.]
Leo blinked, the notification confirming the strange, new instincts humming within him. F-Rank. The bottom of the barrel, but it was a start. It was more than he'd had five minutes ago. He looked over at Lyra, who was now leaning against the pillar again, looking drained but resolute. Their transaction was complete.
"Welcome to the Threshold Inn," Leo said, his voice quiet. "Your room is the first on the right, up the stairs. The facilities are… limited, for now, but they are clean. Rest. You've earned it."
Lyra gave him a single, weary nod of gratitude and, using the wall for support, slowly made her way towards the grand staircase.
Leo was left alone in the vast, silent lobby. The events of the last hour felt like a fever dream. The knights, the rules, the magical contract… and now this. This new feeling inside him. This potential.
He looked down at his own hands. They were the hands of a real estate agent, accustomed to keyboards and pens, not swords and sorcery. But now… now they were different.
He recalled the new instincts, the knowledge that had been so neatly filed away in his brain. He took a slow breath, letting it settle deep in his gut, just as he now knew he should. He focused his will, his intent, gathering a nascent energy from within himself and coaxing it towards his palm. For a moment, nothing happened. He felt a flicker of disappointment. Was it just a feeling, a trick of the mind?
He tried again, concentrating harder, shutting out the world and focusing only on that small, warm kernel of power. He pictured the light he had seen from the knight's warhammer, not its power, but its simple existence.
And then, he felt it. A faint warmth in his palm.
He held his hand up in the dim light of the Inn. A soft, gentle golden light began to emanate from his skin. It was weak, barely visible, a flickering candle flame compared to the roaring bonfire the knights had wielded. It cast a warm, wavering glow on his face, and in its light, his expression was one of pure, unadulterated wonder.
It was his. Not the Inn's power. Not a rule enforced by his domain. This was a power that existed within himself.
He, Leo, the overworked paper-pusher, could use aura.
It wasn't much. It was F-Rank. But it was the first piece of Value he had ever earned, and as he stood there, bathed in the faint glow of his own life force, he felt like he had just closed the most important deal of his life.