"Are you ready to share your plan now?"

Even after I said those words, the old man hesitated for several moments before finally letting out a long sigh.

"I can’t hide it anymore... and I believe your help would, in some ways, be quite useful to this great personality, oh great sir. So are you ready to listen to my final story?"

His voice was as dramatic as ever as I nodded.

He began his tale immediately.

"While my friends entered our final battle against that strange creature, they repeatedly warned this great personality to stay behind and run if anything happened to them. They said, ’A storyteller need not involve himself in battle when his duty is to survive and spread the tale.’"

A bitter smile appeared on his face.

"All of those fools said it with smiles."

"But tell me, oh great sir, what kind of man would turn his back and run away while his friends were being slaughtered?"

His voice trembled slightly.

"I was a storyteller, yes, but I was their brother first. I was the one who had followed them on their journeys and recorded their stories. So even as my body trembled with fear, I threw myself into that battle to save them... even when I knew it was hopeless."

He continued, his head lowered.

"I was never particularly strong, nor was I especially intelligent. I knew the outcome as clearly as day but human emotions are strange, aren’t they?"

He looked at me as if looking for an answer and I instinctively nodded.

Even though I knew this entire story wasn’t necessary to answer the question I had asked and that he could have simply gotten to the point, I let him continue out of respect.

In some ways, this guy was similar to me.

"But by the time I entered, the battle was almost over. The bodies of most of my friends were sprawled across the ground. They had managed to seal the beast but as a result, all of them died except Auremont, who was on the verge of death as well."

"This great personality immediately ran to him. Auremont, that brute, was still smiling when I arrived by his side." The old man’s eyes were filled with sorrow. "He asked me to portray him as someone cool in my stories. He was ready to accept his death... but how could I let him do that?"

He continued.

"I fed him every healing potion this great personality carried, but it was no use... the damage was simply too severe. I pleaded with the Gods to let me save him, to let him stay alive long enough for me to carry him back home... but the world was cruel."

His hands clenched.

"Before I could even carry him out of the cave, a hooded figure wearing robes adorned with strange interlocked symbols attacked this great personality from behind."

His face twisted with anger.

"I still remember that moment vividly. That robed figure laughed at us for being too weak to even fend off a low-level creature. I was enraged but he was simply too strong. I tried to fight but I was defeated within a few moves as the figure drove his sword through my heart with a look of disappointment before leaving us to die."

The old man’s fists trembled.

"But even on his deathbed, that fool Auremont cared more about me than his own life."

His expression softened slightly as he continued.

"Even as his life was slipping away, he still worried about this great personality. Dragging his bleeding body across the ground, he made his way to my side and handed me an unassuming white ring."

The old man looked up at the sky before turning back to me.

"That ring was an artifact granted to him by the Goddess of Love and Passion as a reward for his achievement in uniting all the races of this continent under her banner. It was an artifact capable of giving someone a talent to exist outside the natural cycle of rebirth and allowing it to reincarnate with its memories intact."

"I refused, but he was too damn stubborn."

A bitter smile appeared on his face.

"He said, ’A person does not die from injuries or wounds. He dies when he is forgotten. I have lived my life to the fullest, Rian, and I have no desire to live it again.

But you, my friend, have never truly lived a life for yourself. So take this chance and spread your wings. And as long as you are alive... I will be alive within you as well, brother.

And even if you don’t use it, I certainly won’t. Since it would go to waste either way, isn’t it better for you to have it?’"

The old man’s voice grew quieter.

"He forced the artifact into my dying hands before departing ahead of me with a peaceful smile. How could that fool be so selfish as to burden me with something so heavy, only to die with such peace on his face?!"

The old man was still acting like a storyteller, narrating the tale as though he were merely another character within it, but the cracks in his voice were painfully obvious.

"I was dying as well, but I couldn’t afford to die without making preparations because if there was one thing I wanted more than my own life, it was revenge against those who had sent that beast... and against the one who had killed me."

He lowered his gaze, anger creeping into his voice.

"So I placed a small fragment of my soul into the sword that I rarely used and sent it back to my family after severing my connection to it. That fragment was meant to remain dormant no matter who entered this place, for I was certain that very few would ever be capable of clearing the trial."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"And so I waited for my reincarnation to arrive. Only then would I awaken and hand over the things I had preserved for myself but somehow I woke up due to a miscalculation it seems."

I nodded at him.

"But what exactly is it that you want my help with?"

The old man’s expression shifted back to its usual dramatic facade, clearly trying to hide the pain he had revealed only moments ago.

"This great personality was hoping... that if possible, you could find my reincarnation and hand over my soul to him."

He let out an awkward cough.

"My soul fragment was only meant to awaken once, hand over the inheritance, and then quietly disappear into the rest of my soul. But now that you have entered and mess—"

He paused.

"—I mean, introducing new variables, it is no longer possible for my reincarnation to enter this space now that you have become the sword’s new owner. So, this great personality was hoping that you would allow me to stay within this treasury for a while and eventually hand the stone containing my soul over to its rightful owner."

A smirk appeared on my face.

"And why would I do that? What exactly would I gain?"

The old man immediately flinched.

"You promised to help me if you could, did you not, oh great sir? Furthermore, I believe we have bonded over the stories I shared with you."

"Pfft, bonded in a few minutes? What are we, some anime protagonists?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

The old man tilted his head.

"Anime?"

"Don’t worry about it." I waved my hand dismissively. "Look here, buddy. When all is said and done, I am a materialistic person. If I don’t get something worthwhile in return, then even if I want to help, my conscience will keep pricking at me."

I pointed at him.

"So tell me, what do you have to offer? It doesn’t matter whether it’s big or small. I will be the one deciding that."

The founder hesitated... and then opened his mouth.

"I will offer..."