Raynel and Mettel turned towards Cavien, who was hugging his arms.


    "That''s a good question, why indeed Cavien? Why now?"


    "I – I, I don''t haven''t any gotten no special reason, why you asking me something not real?" Raynel laughed.


    "Look at this blubbering stutter mess. Could you repeat that slowly? Did you understand what you said?" Cavien suddenly became calm.


    "How about you? Why are you asking Mettel for his study materials now? Anytime is alright, you could''ve spent time with your brother instead. Or maybe that mysterious pretty girl you caught a glimpsed of." Raynel raised his eyebrows.


    "Because now is the best time—if it had been any other day, I doubt I would get Mettel to agree. Because of what you did, and the festivity''s fun time raising everybody''s spirit up, I went along the flow and took advantage of it. Also, that mysterious pretty girl is a princess, I already told you that. I am just a bum." Cavien was taken aback.


    "Alright you win. I wanted to talk to Mettel because I wanted to make friends with him. That''s all."


    "Huh?" What in the world? What''s more astonishing is that Cavien wasn''t particularly embarrassed and seemed proud of it, even.


    "My uncle advised me to make friends with interesting people. They often surprise you in unexpected ways, good or not. So, I followed that advice and went along with the festival flow, like Raynel said. Mettel is interesting, as the only normal boy here with relation to one of the greatest wizards to ever exist, I just had to." Raynel nodded to himself, self-assuredly.


    "Alright, there you have it Mettel. What do you say?" It seemed reasonable then, why these two in particular kept coming to him sometimes. He''d always assumed they had a secret motive to humiliate him or something, but it wasn''t like that. But could he accept it? Should he?


    ''Why am I hesitating? This is stupid…'' Seeing Mettel still silent, Cavien spoke up.


    "I mean, why not? We could start being one right now. Dunno what happened with you, but I lost my mother. Raynel here lost his parents. Perhaps I could never understand the pain you went through, but my father say that isn''t necessary to bond together—sometimes even strangers could become lifelong friends in an instant. Hunters make their companions that way many times, and I want to become a hunter someday. So, I thought, why not act as a hunter now?"


    "Cavien, your head surely rubbed off of mine, seeing as you''ve transformed so eloquent enough that you could deliver such rich lines of profound wisdom." Raynel turned to Mettel amidst Cavien''s lost look of trying to understand ''transform'', ''eloquent'' and ''profound'',


    "So?" Raynel asked again as he reached out his hand.


    "…. Fine. I''ll take you up on your offer." Mettel took his hand and shook it. He''d made his first friends in this life.


    <hr>


    A battered rough street, uneven soil, flying scraps of paper and thrown garbage bags on the corners of the street with equally battered stalls and two-story stores. That was the first layer. The second layer above it were connected mainly with wooden bridges; the residences of the neighborhood. Shabby grooved sheets and wooden boards, graffities, blinking lightbulbs, quilts draped over the windows and doorways, ropes as clotheslines between the houses, and electrical lines separated from the ropes.


    Though the area was largely unmaintained, the opposite of pristine, many people lived here. Strived, even. Some wear complete cotton or linen attire of tunic and pants, some wore somewhat wrinkly dirty ones, and the others simply rags. The last simply sat on the street begging for alms.


    The sun had set and it was now evening. In one well-lit large tavern, the most frequented in the whole avenue which were just beside the empty canal of the underground market, two figures were drinking ale by the countertop. They were Arwen and Tryndale.


    "You know, I wanted to ask. Why did you hire me for this? Aren''t there other hunters or suitable people for the job instead of a rat like me?" Tryndale, wearing a black cloak veiling almost all of his features tapped on the wall.


    "Refill." The bartender, who wore a scary mask shaped like an octopus, poured his glass. As the liquid sloshed, Tryndale spoke softly:


    "I did not hire you for your competence, a bare minimum is enough, which you met. I needed a complete unknown who requires money, someone like you, for this mission. Admittedly, you''re quite well-known in this town for the race we just did, but outside? I doubt no one knows."


    "Hmmm, you just dissed me, did ya? I know I said I am a rat but I ain''t letting you treat me like one either—on account of being my client, I''ll forgive you. So, what''s this highly suspicious scouting mission on the Dajien Highlands really all about? And why not any other Hunter?" A group of other tavern-goers passed by behind them, going down the wooden creaky stairs. They appeared to be heading towards the bulletin board beside the countertop, nearby them.


    "Do you understand this question you''re asking?"


    "It''s because I understand and I am a disposable brat that I need to know; otherwise, I''ll be riskin my life for nothing. Dajien Highlands is the most common hunting area for beginner hunters before venturing to the dungeon proper, after all. But you can sometimes see monsters that shouldn''t be there, too. Of course, the ''bare minimum'' info is enough, I know I ain''t pushin my boundaries for troubles I won''t like." Tryndale looked to the ceiling, there - billowing smoke was gathering round. The kitchen oven pumping them out through the vents and pipes behind the tavern countertop.


    "It''s not monsters but people. Illegal dungeon smugglers. They may or may not pass through Western Dajien Highlands but if they do, it''ll be better to have an inexperienced unrelated scout. ''Inexperienced'' in the context of hunter-related ways. Unrelated in the context of not having joined any organization." Tryndale finished his drink then. In comparison, Arwen barely touched hers.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    "So, like, you expect me to be found by them? What''s the point of a scout then?"


    "I will give you an unassuming artifact that will alarm its other pair if it hasn''t returned to being whole after three days. I will know then should something undesirable befell upon you. If they didn''t find you out and you spotted them, good, but I don''t expect it to happen. Better to get caught and released later than outright killed. These dungeon smugglers are brutal, in particular."


    "… Can I request 10 gold coins for mission completion reward?"


    "That depends if you successfully report the relevant information to me. Otherwise, don''t bother." Arwen sighed.


    "Okay but this is un—"


    *Bang*


    All of a sudden, a group of intimidating thugs wearing a black bandana wrapped around their head came inside. Snarls were on their faces as they checked each person in the tavern out. Their appearance made the tavern staff approach them for their business.


    "We''re looking for some suspicious people. Especially a young man, white tunic of medium build. Anybody here saw one?" Whether by coincidence or not, the only person fitting the description was Tryndale. There was another a young man but he looked sickly and weak, small. The people surrounding them gazed at Tryndale, with his now auspicious black cloak on. The group of thugs stomped their way through.


    "Hey you. Take off your hood." Tryndale lifted up his glass, playing it around with his palm.


    "I believe it''s quite rude to involve unrelated parties for your troubles—except that I do appear someone you''d suspect." Tryndale pulled his hood down, which made other people gasp.


    "Oh it''s Tryndale the Eighth Star! Didn''t he just win the LandScape Rush today?" Tryndale didn''t react. The group of black-bandana thugs observed him for a moment or two before moving away. One could see the tattoo of a gun on their spine.


    "Why don''t you tell me what you''re looking for?" Tryndale asked. One of the thugs paused before he turned around and spoke hoarsely:


    "None of your business." Then, they disappeared. As if nothing had happened, the customers simply continued their day. Tryndale meanwhile was smiling softly.


    "How cute."


    "…?!" Did she really hear that right? ''Cute''? No wonder people say he''s still single even with all the women pushing themselves onto him! In reality, he was ga-


    "Before you misunderstand, I was talking about their attempts at playing gang. Like little boys. I believe they''re called the Outskirt Syndicate?"


    "Oh." So that was it. "Wait, little boys? Don''t let them hear you that, those Outskirt Syndicate are the big bosses around here." Even though their name is literally something like a second-rate bandit group''s, and they''re actually kind of pus*ies against Gathos'' guards. She didn''t say this out loud though.


    Not too long, however, a cluster of noise came from the outside. Shouts and voices of aggression could be heard. Some sort of panic spread through the tavern customers'' faces.


    "What''s happening now? Did those Outskirt Syndicate really pick a fight so quickly?"


    "…. Let''s take a look outside. I need to confirm something."


    <hr>


    Earlier, right after the LandScape Rush event ended, Erick was celebrating a party in a bar along with his Harvest Invent Co. In an hour of drinking, however, he remembered his other, more important job.


    "Ah, I forgot I got to look out for those naughty bunch. Sorry, my friends, yep, excuse me, next time next time. See y''all." Sobering himself with a few headcracks and a mental exercise he''s always done, Erick set out towards the outskirts.


    ''Litney should still be patrolling. Jess should be takin care of the brat. Tryndale should be seducing the talented lady with his devilish charm to do his devilish bidding.''  Erick hummed a tune as he pocketed his hands. With his characteristic sunglasses on, he was particularly feeling stylish.


    "It''s funny man. Hunting monsters, fending off cults, confronting extremists, defending innocents from greedy delulus—bein'' a hunter ain''t like this! Guess that''s why I retired, too. Too much responsibility." Shaking his head, Erick thought about what led on to this. After the destruction havocked by that damn lizard, the Atlas Confederation''s southwestern region not only misplaced millions of people, but it also opened up hundreds of possible dungeon entrances. With many of the passageways still unaccounted for—mostly due to the noxious air remaining in the Miiphul Region—this opened up the avenue for mass unauthorized dungeon smuggling. And as the primary road leading in and out of the Miiphul Region passes through Gathos Town, it''s inevitable some would pass by here to resupply or whatnot.


    Seriously, it was such a troublesome task that even Gathos had to hire retired mercenaries like himself, Tryndale, and Litney.


    When he arrived by his assigned area, he could see the outskirts people enjoying the festival, much like the same as the inside town. Just standing around here like an idiot wouldn''t net him anything, however. He had to disguise himself and search suspicious dim alleys, the kind where the act of procreation often happens.


    "Yikes. Don''t wanna come up on that by accident." As he went to a hidden corner to dress up, he came upon a peculiar sight. A young man of medium build, Quin, from the church was sneaking through the crowd with a somber expression.


    "Freak? What he doin with this tell-tale sign he''s about to do somethin'' crazy? Freaky. Oh, that rhymes." Shaking his head, he''d decided to confront the guy on his dubious intentions when he saw something even crazier. Jess, the nun, was following Quin, who was unaware he''s being followed.


    "….???" Who was taking care of Mettel then?


    ''These two on a tryst or something? No way, that ain''t it. But… oh well, it ain''t none of my business. I''ll search the dark alleys as planned.'' He didn''t expect that Quin was heading to such a place in mind.


    Erick went on about here and there—almost as if sightseeing the dilapidated yet lively outskirts. A look of nostalgia on his face. It was about two hours before his efforts were rewarded. He witnessed a bunch of angry Outskirts Syndicate thugs picking on an old shopkeeper who was almost dementedly drooling and whispering. Probably from fear. That was when the most shocking thing happened by far—and he''d just attended a race and chanced upon a church couple tryst!


    From his position, he could see it clearly, several crates suddenly fell on the thugs'' heads. No force. Nor was it at the edge of falling. Something invisible pulled on them. And he could feel it. The air of Aether is disturbed.


    ''Someone used their Tezhe? A telekinesis-related Tezhe or a spell… no one in town I know has something like that. An outsider then.'' Erick''s gaze became sharp as he took off his sunglasses and scanned the surroundings like a hawk. That was when he saw it. A fleeing small figure up there on a second layer building, going inside the tarp-covered window. The Aether flowed from their location. He recognized that figure. That white hair.


    "Impossible… it can''t be? Mettel?"


    <hr>


    Archived History: The First Signs.


    It was unknown when and where exactly did the Maverick first used their astonishing powers. It was stated that it only happened in great crisis, against the onslaught of a fearsome monster, inside the dungeon depths. Some say however, it was when they were about to lose something precious. The intensified emotion of fear pushed them to the brink, forcing out their latent Tezhe to act upon the world—an invisible force of will that is only often seen in higher rank, more special Tezhes. Which was unseen and unheard of at that era. Yet, after that first usage against the people who wished them harm, the Maverick disappeared. For many years.