One day had passed since Atlas returned from the Hollow-Rank Ruin.

After returning, he had stayed inside the Silver Wing Inn and he had already assimilated all the remaining low-ranked Traits he had stored in the Hollow rank Ruin Yesterday. Most of them were not strong compared to Qield’s Horn, Regenerative Hide, Crowbeast Wings, or Velgrath’s Spirit Sphere, but Atlas did not dismiss them.

Low-ranked did not mean useless.

Some Traits helped movement, some helped sensing airflow, some helped small adjustments in Spirit control, some were too weak when used alone, but when combined with other Traits, they could still create effects that were useful in combat. After learning how Qield’s Horn could strengthen Spirit Claw and how Spirit Poison could disturb the Chapel Wraith’s flow, Atlas understood that Traits were not only separate abilities.

They were parts that could be used together.

Still, after finishing that, Atlas had one more important matter left.

The Whirlstone.

He had kept it until now because selling it would be foolish. Nors Solace had said clearly that it was an Epic-rank catalyst, and if a capable craftsman handled it properly, it could become the core of a Legendary weapon. Atlas had not cared about weapons much at first because he could fight with his body and Traits, but after thinking about Abyss-Rank Ruins, that changed.

Going into an Abyss-Rank Ruin barehanded would be stupid.

He needed a weapon.

Not an ordinary sword bought from a shop.

A weapon made for him, a weapon that could handle his Strength, Spirit, and future growth.

The problem was that Seraphiel was the one who had the connection to the master craftsman.

Atlas still did not trust her fully. He did not trust nobles in general, and Seraphiel being polite did not erase everything he had seen from nobles and royals. But her proposal had been fair. She did not ask him to hand over the Whirlstone, did not force him to sell anything, and only wanted a business relationship.

That was something he could consider.

For now, his plan was simple.

Go to the Guild, see if Seraphiel was present.

If she was there, he would accept the proposal and talk about crafting the weapon.

If she was not there, then he would have to ask the Guild receptionist where her house was and go there.

That was the situation Atlas wanted to avoid.

Going to Seraphiel’s house was different from talking to her inside the Guild. A noble estate meant guards, servants, family members, household procedures, and people who would ask questions. If Atlas entered the Rosaria Household directly, then other people in that house might notice him as someone connected to Seraphiel.

And once nobles noticed someone, they liked inspecting them.

That was what Atlas did not want.

So after waking up, taking a bath, and eating the simple meal provided by the Silver Wing Inn, Atlas left quickly and walked toward the Guild.

[A/N: He has already paid for another week’s fee in the Inn]

Lumivale was already active in the morning.

The roads were clean, merchants had opened their stalls, and explorers moved in groups toward different parts of the city. Angels flew above from time to time, while others walked normally through the market paths. Some children with small wings ran near the shops, and older people scolded them when they nearly crashed into passing travelers.

Atlas walked through all of it with his hood covering his head and his mask hiding the lower half of his face.

As he moved, his thoughts slowly drifted.

For the first time after a month and several days, he remembered his past properly.

A commoner boy born near Ormolio’s Outer Village.

He had lived near the outer areas. In that kind of place, commoners did not dream about fairness. They worked, starved, fought, and endured whatever the people above threw at them.

As a child, Atlas had been pushed around by people stronger than him.

Villagers who thought their slightly better life gave them the right to mock those below.

Older boys who took food.

Adults who blamed everything on the weaker side.

Guards who looked at commoners like they were problems waiting to happen.

And nobles.

A noble did not even need to personally hurt someone. Their carriage passing through was enough to make everyone move aside. Their servants could speak rudely, their guards could beat people, and their word could ruin someone who had no backing.

Then Atlas became older.

He thought he had already understood the world.

But the Royal Family and nobility showed him something worse.

They threw him into an Eternal-Class Ruin as bait.

Just because he was a commoner with no one behind him.

As Atlas walked through the clean roads of Lumivale, his fingers curled slightly at his side.

Under his hood and mask, his teeth clenched.

’I will get my revenge someday.’

His gaze remained forward.

’Just a little more time.’

After a continuous walk, Atlas finally appeared in front of the Lumivale Guild.

And what he feared happened.

Seraphiel was not there.

Atlas stood outside for a moment and looked through the entrance. He saw explorers moving around, receptionists handling reports, and the mission screen shifting in the hall, but Seraphiel Rosaria was nowhere in sight.

His expression did not change, but disappointment and irritation rose inside him.

He had noticed before that Seraphiel had stopped coming to the Guild for the past day or so. At that time, he had ignored it and dismissed it for later because he was focused on clearing ruins and increasing his strength. But now, when he actually needed her because of the weapon, she was not present.

That irritated him more because he did not want to get help from a noble in the first place.

His fight was against nobles and royals; he did not want to depend on someone with that same kind of status.

But then he remembered this was the Angelic Continent.

Seraphiel’s behavior so far had not been like the nobles of the Human Continent. She had spoken clearly, did not try to take the Whirlstone, and had offered a business proposal that had value for both sides.

Atlas needed the weapon.

And for the weapon, he needed the craftsman.

Considering all that, Atlas sighed and entered the Guild.

He walked toward the receptionist counter.

The Angel receptionist looked up and recognized him quickly.

"Mr. Atlas, good morning."

Atlas nodded once.

"Good morning."

Then he asked directly.

"May I know where Lady Seraphiel’s house is, and if she is present there as well?"

The receptionist looked at him for a moment, then nodded with a soft smile.

"Lady Seraphiel had told me about you."

Atlas’s eyes narrowed faintly beneath the hood.

The receptionist continued as she reached under the counter.

"If you wanted to contact her, she told me to hand you this slip."

She took out a small paper slip and gave it to him.

Atlas accepted it and looked down.

There was a small sign drawn on the slip. It looked like a Rosaria Household mark, but not something too formal. More like a pass that could let the guards know he had been expected.

The receptionist spoke again.

"Go to her house near the Eastern District of the noble estates. The biggest one there is hers, so you can locate it easily. Show this slip to the guard, and he will inform Lady Seraphiel."

Atlas looked at the slip for a few seconds.

’She was already prepared for this type of situation?’

That meant Seraphiel had expected him to come looking for her eventually.

Atlas did not know whether to call that foresight or business sense.

Either way, she had prepared a path without forcing him.

That made things easier and also more troublesome.

Atlas placed the slip inside his coat and nodded.

"Thank you."

The receptionist smiled again.

"You are welcome, Mr. Atlas."

Atlas turned and exited the Guild.

- - -

An hour later, Atlas was sitting on a massive luxurious couch inside the Rosaria Household.

The room he was in was larger than all the houses he had seen in Ormolio. The floor was polished white stone with faint silver patterns running across it. The curtains were soft and expensive, the table was carved from some kind of pale wood, and the tea set in front of him looked like it cost more than what ordinary commoners earned in years.

Atlas sat with his back straight.

His hood had been lowered, but his mask still covered the lower half of his face.

In his hand was a teacup.

He took a sip slowly as he slightly lifted the mask.

The tea was warm, smooth, and clearly expensive.

Opposite to him sat Seraphiel Rosaria.

Her silver-white hair fell neatly over her shoulder, and her wings were folded behind her. She looked calm as usual, but there was a faint helplessness in her eyes today.

Because beside her sat another woman.

Seraphiel’s mother.

The woman looked mature and elegant, but the smile on her face was far too playful for the calm noble atmosphere around them. She had been giggling for a while now, looking between Atlas and Seraphiel as if she had already decided something in her own head.

Atlas did not know what to say, so he focused on the tea.

Then Seraphiel’s mother suddenly spoke.

"So, you won’t introduce me to your future husband, my baby girl?"

Atlas coughed into his tea.

"Kh—!"

He turned his mouth hurriedly to the side so he would not spill it forward.

Seraphiel’s expression froze for a moment.

Then her eyes slowly moved toward her mother.