Sword Art Online: Moonlight Swordman.

Ren stepped out of the restaurant with a full belly and a quiet satisfaction flowing through every cell of his body.

He almost wanted to sing out loud from happiness.

…Until he opened his inventory.

[Current Cor: 68,670.]

Ren froze.

"Six… six thousand?" he muttered, blinking as if hoping the system had displayed it wrong.

But no.

He had really spent over 6,000 Cor on one meal. A single hand swipe, a nod at the menu, and a luxurious feast.

And now… warm belly, empty wallet.

"This sucks," Ren frowned, hand on his stomach.

But at the very least, he had confirmed the rumors. The food there was truly worth the money.

The flavor burst from the very first bite, the meat melted on his tongue, the seasoning blended perfectly, and the hot soup wrapped around his tired stomach like a comforting hug after a long journey.

Ren nearly cried when he took the final spoonful.

Even so… he knew he couldn't eat there regularly. That kind of spending wasn't for normal players. It was for nobles.

Ren walked straight to the church.

The church door was just as it had always been, slightly ajar, as if always welcoming anyone who might wander in. And the one who greeted him… was still the same elderly priest, with gentle eyes that seemed untouched by time.

Ren gave a slight nod as a greeting, then quietly handed over the mission completion record. There wasn't much in the note Ren gave the priest. Just one name.

"Razgar."

The priest paused for a moment. But then he smiled, a soft smile, thin as the final trace of incense in a morning ceremony, enough to conceal something deeper behind his time-worn eyes.

"Thank you," he said slowly. "For helping us… remember Him. Even if now… He is just a forgotten name."

Ren remained silent. Then he looked up, hesitated for a breath, but still asked:

"Can you tell me… how many gods are there? And what are their names?"

A question that seemed simple, yet made the entire sanctuary fall into stillness.

The priest looked at him. Not just with his eyes, but with a kind of understanding that went beyond words.

His gaze was not stern. Just… sad. As if someone had once asked him that exact same question, and never came back.

"That answer…" he whispered, "…you'll have to find for yourself."

He folded his hands before his chest, as if praying for something that was about to begin.

"There are names etched in the holy scriptures."

"There are names passed only in whispers between the dying."

"And there are names… that were never meant to be spoken again."

Then he closed his eyes, bowing his head slightly.

"May you… find the answer you seek."

That was all.

No further explanation, no questions asked. As if he knew more than he said. Or… as if he didn't dare say more.

Ren didn't press.

He silently accepted his reward, some money and experience… and a small, tarnished silver necklace. A side item added to his already heavy inventory.

Its function was simple:

If the wearer prayed while holding it each morning, they would receive a small, random buff. No need to visit the church.

Convenient.

And also… very much like the church, always offering something halfway. Just enough to keep belief alive, but never enough to truly rely on.

Ren took the necklace and dropped it into his inventory.

He didn't expect much. In fact, he'd never really expected anything from this quest. He had once tossed it aside, unable to find any clue about the name Razgar.

And yet in the end… he was the one who found it.

Not through guidance. But through blood, bone, and surviving in a darkness where no one lit the way.

Ren left the church. The door behind him closed without a sound, as if everything had already been predetermined.

A gentle breeze swept by, carrying the floral scent of the carefully tended flowers lining the path, and the faint earthy trace of rotting wood left in the sacred space.

He stopped at the top of the steps, letting his body relax, letting his heart breathe.

For the first time in a long while, Ren's quest list was completely empty. No more blurry notes about unfinished objectives, no more broken promises made to forgotten strangers.

He had completed everything. All of it.

A sense of relief flowed through his chest like rainwater after a storm.

For a brief moment, Ren nearly forgot how much he had been carrying, those strings of half-done quests he'd abandoned for weeks, even months, because he couldn't find the leads or couldn't find the strength.

They had just sat there in his quest log like shadows, reminders of unfinished duties, of things he owed to himself.

And now, they were gone.

Empty. But peaceful.

Ren slowly descended the stone steps, his legs still a bit numb from the heavy meal, but his spirit felt unusually clear.

He looked up at the sky. Soft golden sunlight spilled across the red-tiled roofs, shining down on the cobbled streets, each beam like a needle stitching the world back into its everyday rhythm.

The Town of Beginnings, such a simple name, yet never meaningless.

This was where everyone started. Where he had once started. And also the place that, somehow, he kept choosing to return to, every time he was torn too badly to keep moving forward.

Ren stood still, watching the crowd pass by.

Everyone was in a hurry. Everyone had somewhere to go. Groups of players were eagerly setting off, their laughter echoing through the square, eyes bright beneath the morning sun.

Others were resting under eaves, wiping down weapons, checking items, preparing for another journey.

All of them were alive. All of them were moving forward.

Ren smiled faintly...but no one saw.

It was time for him to return to the frontlines.

Time to search for something else, not just answers to questions about gods or ancient fairytales, but answers for himself.

For why he still kept walking, still kept fighting, still hadn't given up.

And if possible, he would earn enough money to buy a small house in this town.

It didn't need to be big. Didn't need to be pretty. Just quiet enough for him to call it home, a place to return to. A place where he wouldn't feel like a leftover in someone else's story.

Ren took a deep breath, letting the morning air fill his lungs, soothing what little fatigue remained.

His fingers instinctively gripped at the hilt of a sword, an old habit, a reflex etched into his blood.

…But there was only air.

He grasped at nothing.

Ren froze. A moment of confusion, then remembered. His sword… was gone. It had broken in that battle. Disappeared, like the bizarre memory he wasn't even sure had been real.

He let out a quiet sigh, a heaviness settling in, not from regret, but from a strange sense of nakedness.

A warrior without a weapon… what remains, other than a will wandering without purpose?

Not long after, Ren stepped into the street, blending into the crowd flowing in all directions. Life moved on. The Town of Beginnings remained as lively as ever, but to Ren, it felt like a completely new start.

The first task, obviously, was to buy a new sword. A reliable weapon, enough to start again. It didn't have to be powerful, didn't have to shine, just enough to last until he found something better.

After that… it was time to grind levels.

Ren knew exactly where he stood on the progress ladder among players. Back when they struggled against the first floor boss, he had been one of them, shoulder to shoulder, fighting, sacrificing.

But after that day, everything changed.

They, the players at the frontline, had never stopped climbing. Floor two, floor three… Each new level brought a new world, new lands, and increasingly rich resources, quests, and gear.

But Ren…

He had paused. Temporarily. And now that pause had become a deep chasm. The friends he once fought beside had probably far outpaced him in level. They were now fighting bosses Ren couldn't even imagine.

He knew he couldn't catch up overnight.

But he could begin again.

With a new sword.

With one more step.

From the very place where everyone once started: the Town of Beginnings.

…Or maybe, he didn't need to start all the way from the bottom.

Ren shivered slightly at the thought of returning to that old blacksmith's shop near the town's western edge, where the grumpy old smith would often explode in rage if a customer broke their weapon after just a few fights.

And Ren… had literally shattered his sword in a brutal battle with a monster underground.

No. He didn't have the courage to face that old man's steel-melting glare again.

Forget it.

Ren clicked his tongue. Maybe he should contact someone else… like Agil.

The tall, bald big brother figure, always speaking in that deep, calming voice that made everything in life seem less terrifying.

Word was, Agil was doing well these days, running a proper shop on the third floor, his name now known among many players as a fair merchant in a world where fairness had nearly vanished.

Instead of selling at outrageous prices, Agil collected weapons from players who'd cleared higher floors, then resold them cheaply to slower climbers on lower levels.

Because of that, many had been able to catch up, boosting the number of players at the frontlines and significantly speeding up the rate of floor exploration.

A guy like that… was worth trusting.

The only thing was, Ren needed to get to the third floor.

Luckily, the teleport gate between floors had been activated. No more hiking through labyrinths, just place your hand on the glowing stone pillar at the center of the plaza, speak the name of the desired floor, and let the light swallow you whole.

Fast, clean, and spine-chilling.

"Does it feel the same as that time…? When I think about it, it felt like I was thrown out of Aincrad…"

Ren exhaled, eyes drifting toward the plaza ahead, where the teleport gate shimmered under the morning sun, like a lighthouse guiding the lost.

Maybe it was time for him to take the next step.