Fame?

Ezra lingered at the site, his presence a silent but imposing deterrent against any lingering cultists who might dare to strike back. He stood at the base's perimeter, his sharp gaze scanning the treeline. Though the battle was over, his instincts wouldn't allow him to relax until the reinforcements had arrived.

It wasn't long before a team of private soldiers emerged from the forest. Clad in standard armor and moving with military precision, they approached Ezra with respectful nods. Behind them, a group of investigators and mages followed, their robes marked with the insignia of the kingdom's intelligence division.

One of the soldiers, a stern-looking man with a captain's badge, stepped forward. "You're Ezra, right? Heard about your handiwork here. Impressive cleanup," he said, surveying the destroyed base and the neatly piled remains of confiscated weapons and artifacts.

Ezra inclined his head slightly, his expression neutral. "Just doing my job. There's a lot of dangerous stuff in there—Strange weapons, stolen equipment, maybe even forbidden texts. Make sure your mages don't touch anything they don't understand. These cultists had some clever tricks."

The captain gave a sharp nod. "Understood. We'll secure the area and transport everything back for examination. You've done enough here—get some rest."

Ezra didn't move immediately. He watched as the team spread out, securing the site and beginning their recovery efforts. The investigators sifted through the wreckage with meticulous care, while the mages cast detection spells to identify and neutralize any lingering enchantments. A few soldiers hefted crates filled with stolen goods, their expressions grim as they uncovered evidence of the cult's operations.

Satisfied that the site was in capable hands, Ezra finally turned away. The moon was high in the sky by the time he made it back to his base, its silvery light casting long shadows across the camp. The night air was cool and carried a faint scent of pine, a stark contrast to the stench of blood and ash that still lingered in his mind.

As he entered the barracks, Ezra loosened his hood and stretched his shoulders, the weight of the day's events settling over him like a heavy cloak. His companions had already turned in—Korr's loud, rumbling snores echoed from one bunk, while Storm lay sprawled out in another, goggles perched haphazardly on his forehead.

Ezra allowed himself a faint smile at the sight before heading to his corner. He removed his gear piece by piece, Letting his sword dissipate into nothingness before sinking onto the edge of his bunk. For a moment, he simply sat there, staring at the floor as the adrenaline faded and exhaustion crept in.

The events of the day replayed in his mind—the battles, the cult leader's desperate plea, and the ease with which they'd dismantled the operation. It wasn't guilt that weighed on him, but the gnawing feeling that something bigger was at play. The cult's leader had spoken of rebuilding, of a broader plan, and Ezra couldn't shake the sense that they were only scratching the surface.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before lying back on the cot. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the cracks in the barracks' walls, casting a serene glow over the room.

"One battle down," he murmured to himself, his eyes closing. "But the war's far from over."

With that thought lingering in his mind, Ezra finally allowed sleep to claim him, 

Ezra awoke to find Serena standing by his bedside, her expression a mix of amusement and mild concern. "Uhm, Ezra, you might want to come downstairs. It's getting pretty hectic down there."

Still groggy, Ezra sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Hectic? What do you mean?" he asked, but before she could answer, he caught the unmistakable sound of a raucous crowd. Voices overlapped, shouting and clamoring from downstairs, their sheer number making the floorboards tremble.

With a frown, Ezra threw on his boots and followed Serena out of the room. As they descended the staircase, the scene below came into view: the front lobby of their base was packed with people. Korr and Storm stood near the entrance, attempting to calm the swarm of reporters and curious onlookers. Storm was visibly exasperated, gesturing wildly as he tried to explain something, while Korr looked as though he was one wrong question away from tossing someone out the door.

Ezra turned to Serena, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Okay, please explain what the hell is going on."

Serena gave him a cheeky smile and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. "Well, after you finished your mission last night, the guy who commissioned it was so impressed that he decided to look into your other exploits. Turns out, you've been busier than I thought. He had everything published in the city papers, and now…" She gestured to the chaos below with a laugh. "…you're kind of famous."

Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Of course I am. Why not?"

Serena wasn't finished. "Oh, and because I was bored, I decided to run the front desk this morning. Then suddenly, bam! A flood of people shows up, all begging to get an interview with you. You should've seen their faces when I told them you were still asleep."

Ezra shot her an unimpressed look, muttering, "Thanks for that, Serena." He took a deep breath and started down the stairs.

As soon as the crowd noticed him, the room erupted into noise once again. Questions were hurled in rapid succession:

"Ezra! Is it true you single-handedly took down a witch?"

"Will you be accepting commissions outside the city?"

"Are the rumors about your Aether abilities true?"

Ezra raised his hand, and the noise only grew louder, as if his gesture encouraged them further. His patience thinning, he stopped halfway down the staircase and released a burst of Aether aura. It radiated through the room like a tidal wave, potent and commanding, even affecting those who weren't attuned to Aether.

The room fell silent almost instantly, the crowd frozen in a mix of awe and unease. Ezra's presence was undeniable, his calm gaze sweeping over the sea of faces.

"Now that I have your attention," Ezra said, his tone firm but composed, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but this is a place of business, not a circus. If you have questions or requests, write them down and leave them at the front desk. We'll address them in an orderly fashion."

The crowd murmured among themselves, clearly reluctant but unwilling to challenge him. Serena, suppressing a grin, clapped her hands and started ushering people toward the exit.

As the room began to clear out, Korr crossed his arms and chuckled. "Boss, thank god I was this close to throwing someone." 

Storm leaned against the wall, shaking his head. "I'm just glad I didn't have to deal with that all morning."

Ezra sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Remind me to stay out of the spotlight next time."

Serena smirked as she passed by. "Good luck with that, 'City Hero.'"

Ezra groaned inwardly, already dreading what the rest of the day might bring.

Over the next several hours, hundreds of letters flooded into the base, each containing questions or commission requests. Ezra sat at his desk, a stack of parchment on one side and a steadily growing pile of responses on the other. Despite the tedious nature of the task, he worked diligently, even addressing some of the more personal questions.

As he was sealing another envelope, Serena approached from behind, peering over his shoulder with a skeptical expression.

"You know you don't have to respond to all of those, right?" she said, crossing her arms. "You're just going to end up inviting unsavory types here—people who think you're interested in them."

Ezra frowned slightly but didn't pause his work. "There weren't any worthwhile jobs in these requests anyway, so it's not like I have anything better to do." He signed another letter with a flourish before adding, "Besides, running off a few noblewomen with inflated egos might be the most entertaining thing I'll do all day."

Serena rolled her eyes and leaned against the desk. "You say that now, but just wait until you have a line of angry suitors at the door demanding explanations."

Ezra smirked, finally glancing up at her. "Then I guess I'll get even more practice handling people who annoy me. It's a win-win."

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. "You're impossible. Just don't come crying to me when one of them sends their guards to drag you off for a 'romantic dinner.'"