<div>


    "They''re just goblins, Sunni.”


    It was a cloudy afternoon. The small party of four hid behind the foliage. The thickets were cramped, forcing them to bunch up and bump shoulders just to squeeze in, much to everyone''s chagrin.


    Well, not everyone.


    Frederick smiled as felt the warmth of his companions. They were beauties that anyone would admire. If he got bold, he could always play the cool and charismatic mercenary card just as he''s always done. A charming smile and a wink. The ladies loved it. They always did.


    Lauren and Sunni, an Archer and a Fire Mage respectively, had been in his party for some time now. He met them while party searching not too long after the full mobilization of the Alliance. Together, with himself as the Swordsman and sole vanguard fighter, they followed the textbook balance of melee, range, and magic of every standard party.


    “S-still… I-Isn’t that just a bit too many?” Sunni held the collar of her cloak closer to herself and her magic staff even closer. “I don’t think the four of us will be enough. And I only have enough mana for two or three spells right now...”


    Lauren peeked through the scope, licking the wind on her lip. “Hmmm… I can nail them at this distance. As long as we have our leader here to keep them off our hides, I don’t see why not.”


    The goblins had formed an entire encampment. Walls of twine and logs enclose a series of huts. From far away it would look like a small village—if villages were built out of sticks, dirt, and the leftover bones and scraps of their game. The only entrance was enforced with wooden spike barricades, guarded by a pair of armed goblins. Their rusted helmets and spears appeared too big for the little green men, handled far too awkwardly to be of practical use. All stolen, certainly.


    Their defenses did not seem like much. As monsters known for being weak and stupid, goblins proved little trouble to even the beginners of this generation’s adventurers. And besides…


    “We’re not amateurs anymore.” Frederick tapped on a metal piece that hung on the upper ridge of his chest plate. It sang the satisfying ring of silver. Freshly minted silver. “Trust me. It will be fine. A couple of goblins won’t put a scratch on us, not when we have our resident White Mage here—”


    “I agree with Sunni.”


    Everyone turned their heads to the back of the group.


    A pure white cloak. Platinum white hair cut off by the shoulders. Blue eyes serene enough to be of the holy church, intelligent enough to be of noble birth.


    While Frederick, Sunni, and Lauren already knew each other, their fourth member was the odd one out.


    The aligned kingdoms of the Halos Alliance had mandated that every guild, academy, and noble house support their endeavors against the coming monster crisis. In exchange they offer honor, titles, wealth and land paid straight out of the treasury, even going as far as to sponsor those with the potential and offer equipment, potions, and weapons. Many opportunists, looking to change their lives, leapt at the chance to join one of the four Guilds. Even Frederick himself was wearing an Alliance-issued armor set.


    Sans the helmet of course.


    No way was he hiding this handsome mug.


    In order to handle the Hallows Alliance-sanctioned elimination quests, the Rosarium Kingdom and Dragon Tale guild formed the Support Corps. Every adventurer not in an active party, especially Priests, Exorcists, Clerics—the support classes coveted by every party yet too expensive or demanding to invite—were required to temporarily join other parties to increase the success rates.


    They would lose the right to choose their own party, their own quests, and the quest rewards themselves. In exchange, they were paid a monthly pension directly funded by the Halos Alliance.


    This White Mage was one of them.


    Being a last-minute addition to fulfill the four-member requirement for this mission, she had kept a fair distance from the core group.


    “The mission is to scout out and map the goblin camps,” she said. “Leave the raiding to the extermination teams."


    “Haaah… There you go again!” Lauren scratched the end of her scope over her scalp. “Set up camp over here, take formation like this, hit ‘em like that! So bossy, I swear! You’ve been like this ever since we left Risadel, so what’s got a tentacle up your butt, huh?”


    “My job is to keep you all alive.”


    “Sounds like to me you’re just on a power trip.” Lauren smirked. “What’s wrong this time? Scared of the little green men? Think they hide under the bed at night?”


    If the White Mage was bothered with the remark, she didn’t show it. “Maybe if we still had our spare potions for Sunni to cast more than three spells, I would’ve at least entertained the idea. But we wasted them on all those detours because your dear leader wanted the scenic route.”


    “I—” Lauren paused. “Well, when you put it like that...”


    “Whoa there, ladies,” Frederick said, raising his hands in a half shrug as though it couldn’t be helped. “Anyone can make mistakes, even the party leader. But I can assure you two there is no mistake to be made here. We have plenty enough with us to take on the goblins.”


    The White Mage frowned. “Really.”


    “Yes,” Frederick gave a pretty smile, “Really. Don’t you trust me?”


    “I recall you insisted we make camp when we were only an hours march away from the nearest town. We got attacked by wolves corrupted by Demontide in the middle of the night.”


    Frederick’s smile drooped. “Hey, at least I helped treat our injuries...”


    “You mean when I had to spend a mana potion bringing everyone back into shape. When we got to town, you took everyone out on a shopping trip and bought everyone trinkets and a fancy dinner at the inn. We hardly had enough on hand to resupply afterwards.”


    “But it was fun, right?” Frederick looked to the other girls. “Right?”


    “Uh…” Lauren tapped her scope on her lips, trying to remember. “...I guess?”


    Sunni’s eyes hopped between Frederick and the White Mage. “M-Maybe?”


    The party leader’s lips twitched. Oh, these ungrateful little...


    The White Mage nodded back to where they came from, back to their camp. “And the dip in the river. The training sessions. Goblins were sighted around the area. We could’ve been ambushed by their hunters.”


    “T-Team building exercises,” Frederick blurted. “I just needed to make sure we get along and are all on the same page.”


    “The Guild wanted up-to-date information on the goblin camps and they gave us three days to do it. We’re a day late. It''s going to cost us more than a return scroll if we don''t hurry.”


    “That’s why we should take them out early while we’re still here. The more achievements the better. Then the Guild would surely forgive us for being late a day or two.”


    “Out of the question.” The White Mage shook her head. “Not our job, not worth our lives. We leave, and we just take the penalty.”


    Frederick frowned, drumming his fingers along his scabbard.


    It was just a goblin scouting quest, a low-risk task against low-risk enemies. What''s the big deal? Why is she making this harder than it has to be?


    For Frederick, the real goal of this journey was the White Mage herself.


    The routine was simple: an extra night at camp, a warm dinner by the fireplace, a fun swim in the nearby river, a few training sessions in between. One look at his sweating shirtless body while out swinging his sword, one bump at the hip while drifting in the water, one bite of the innkeeper’s delicious cuisine, one special moment under the starlit night, and there would be blushing maidens by morning.


    Frederick wanted a dedicated party. No, not just that, he wanted to be the heart of it. The leader of an elite party of adventurers. He’s certain enough Lauren and Sunni would stick around, but an Archer and Fire Mage wouldn’t always let the Swordsman shine. What he needed was a support Class who could give him the spotlight.


    The Support Corps was the first place he looked, and White Mage they sent was perfect. Not too strong, not too weak. While those without a party were automatically assigned to the Support Corps, this clause no longer applies when they officially join a party. Many do after the ordinance was first declared, not wanting to risk their lives for a new face for every quest.


    Surely this lone girl was no different. Frederick would bet the only reason why no one invited her to a party yet was because of her difficult personality.


    Had the White Mage just gone with it and enjoyed what he had planned, then all the extra expense would’ve been worth it. She’d join his party, and he would easily rise up the ranks with his girls fawning by his side.


    Instead, the White Mage rebuffed him at every turn. She bought her own food, took the first and last watch, refused small talk, criticized his leadership, and overall just worsened the relationship between herself and the party. The White Mage made him look stupid and incompetent in front of the girls, and he need to dig deeper into his pockets to save his cool and suave image after this quest.


    But he was confident. He wasn’t called Frederick the Fortuitous for nothing.


    "They''re just goblins,” Frederick repeated. “Easy kills. We could take them on even with a handicap. Just because this is just a scouting mission doesn’t mean we can’t come back with a few extra feats in our names. Lauren, Sunni, we’re already Silver ranked. Imagine how fast we could reach Gold! Don’t you think we could even shoot for Platinum? Or if Kyaeris blesses us, Mithril? We could be the best, just like in the stories, like the Crimson Dragons!”


    Brows slanted, eyes brimming, Frederick summoned the smoldering gaze he had always practiced. He locked eyes with Lauren, who returned a smirk. And then Sunni, who glanced away but went deep into thought. He felt his smile growing back.


    “And you!”


    The White Mage just blinked.


    "Erm..." Frederick pressed on. “Aren’t you tired of party hopping? Dragged around by the Support Corps to do any low-level party’s bidding? If you prove yourself worthy of Gold, the Guild would let you take on better work with better people.”


    His eyes settled on the White Mage’s staff. It was a simple yet cheap-looking thing. The crystalline receptacle appeared to be a rough make, dim and glossy as opposed to the magical glimmer most high-level mages possess. Even Sunni’s looked better. And there on the other end was a sharp piece of metal tied tightly by an old and beaten bandage, a makeshift replacement for the broken bottom piece of the staff. Looked more like a hazard than a fix.


    “And maybe buy yourself a new staff,” Frederick added. “Just this once, you can trust us. We’ll get you there.”


    Frederick made sure to maintain steady eye contact with the White Mage. Apply the pressure. Impress upon her the importance of his words, that she could rely on him and his party. He had done this plenty of times before. Surely she felt his sincerity.


    “How about this?” Frederick relaxed his gaze, pretending to clear his throat. “Let’s settle this with a vote. Agreed?” He did not wait for an answer and said, “Raise of hands if you want to return to Risadel.”


    One hand was raised.


    The White Mage’s brows ever so slightly furrowed as she looked to the elemental mage beside her. “Sunni?”


    Sunni, hugging her staff, had a hard time meeting eyes and just looked down. “M-Maybe Frederick’s right? They’re just goblins…” Her voice lowered into a mutter, “And maybe I’m just worrying over nothing…”This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    All according to plan.


    “Now, who wants to attack the goblin camp?”


    Frederick savored the result as two hands joined his third. Seeing the frustration flash on the White Mage’s face made it all worth it. He almost smirked but covered it with an easy-going smile. “Guess you’re outvoted, Miss White Mage.”


    The White Mage said nothing. The party leader viewed it to be as good as consent. She may be cold and distant now but Frederick will fix that. He knew her type. Once he proved how reliable he could be, she''ll come around soon enough.


    Frederick stood up from their hiding spot. “No use wasting time. Let’s get goblin slaying.”


    “What?” The White Mage’s eyes narrowed. “Now? You can’t be serious. At least scout around for traps—”


    “Sunni, Lauren, cover me. White Mage, support me. I’ll have us back before sun down.”


    “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about!” Lauren cheered, puffing her chest before standing up to follow him. “Don’t worry, White Mage, we’ll show you how it’s done!” She gave the white-haired girl a side-eyed smirk, upholstering her bow to whack the foliage aside, exposing the entire party.


    “H-Hey, wait for me!” Sunni scrambled to follow, only to almost trip on her own staff. The White Mage was quick to catch her before any damage was done. But once made steady, Sunni hardly acknowledged the White Mage before scampering behind the Archer and Swordsman.


    The goblins already spotted them. The pair of guards hollered in their dirty, nonsensical tongue, alerting the whole camp to the party’s presence. Soon, the camp was abuzz with activity. More goblins appeared and manned the entrance. Sticks, clubs, daggers, rocks—they had grabbed anything they could get their hands on.


    Frederick snickered.


    Pathetic. Easy pickings.


    He unsheathed his sword and swished it in his grip, admiring how the dust blew in its wake. The magnificent steel was augmented with a lightning enchantment, one of the best a Swordsman could get. He paid good money for it, and if he’s going to debut as a newly graded Silver rank, what better way to show off than with his flashy new sword?


    The party leader marched and led the vanguard with all the confidence in the world on his face, sweeping back his blond bangs with all the swagger of a Chosen. A helmet? With this face, who needs it?


    “Get ready!” He shouted.


    Lauren readied her bow, an arrow taught on the strings. Sunni planted her staff, a spell in her lips to cast on his order. The White Mage, reluctant yet focused, stepped out of hiding and was already doing her duty. She raised her staff.


    “[Reinforcement]. [Featherlight].”


    Music to his ears.


    The crystalline receptacle in her staff flashed. Magic circles spawned out of the centerpiece, and they moved like clockwork. Tendrils of ambient white magic seeped into his armor and blade, and the effects were immediate. The Swordsman relished in his newfound strength.


    Frederick could already imagine it. With these buffs from the White Mage, his armor and sword will be as light as a feather, tough as an anvil. He could stab and swing and slaughter those weaklings in droves. He would ram into the cluster of goblins, send them flying back into the camp where he and his sword would dance as a one-man army without ever receiving a scratch. Impressing Lauren and Sunni was only a bonus—all he needed was to show the White Mage that he’s the man to bet on. That her skills were better off used on the strong and capable Frederick!


    He’ll show her. Show her how easily he’ll handle all these goblins she’s so scared of!


    After all…


    Frederick charged, a winning smirk on his lips. “They’re just goblins—!“


    A rock clocked him right on the forehead.


    The world spun, the very ground turning to kiss him...


    ...and he blacked out.


    “What the—Frederick!?”


    Lauren made to rush for the party leader but—


    “[Barrier]!”


    —a translucent barrier stopped her. Just in time before a rock smashed into pieces right before her eyes.


    The goblins were using the hill, letting gravity do the work as they lobbed rocks at them. With enough height and distance, even a frontline fighter would find themselves black and blue without being prepared. It was a wonder they could even reach this distance, what with their lanky arms, but a closer look showed that the goblins were equipped with slingshots, laughing at the party; the marksmen loaded rocks on the sling while the other goblins clapped and hooted.


    Lauren clicked her tongue.


    “Lauren,” the White Mage spoke calmly. “No time to argue. Stay behind the shield and—Lauren?”


    “Whatever, hide away or leave if you want. You can’t tell me what to do!”


    “Wait, at least—just listen!”


    It was raining stones. Against all common sense the Archer rushed out of cover to reach their party leader. Not even two steps out in the open, there was a stray rock—and this time the Archer leaned her head—that blew right by her ear.


    Lauren giggled as she dodged, dipped, and danced. Like a butterfly in the wind, the stones would come close but never succeed. The rocks may be many, they were too slow to match her class’s agility. A cocky smile spread over her lips.


    “Heh! See? Easy!” Lauren threw the White Mage a wink and a victory sign, leaning her head, letting a pebble pass over her shoulder, making herself look cute while doing it. “You supporters don’t know a good Archer when you see one, always fussing, always nagging. I got this. I don’t need your he—EEELP!”


    The ground beneath her caved. Leaves and sticks snapped under foot, opening up a pit of mud. The Archer’s legs sank down from her ankles to her knees, nothing fatal, but...


    “Ah.” Lauren looked up.


    She raised her arms and bow just in time to block the first stone. But the second, third, and fourth… Failing to find purchase in the mushy footing, she stumbled, fell into the mud pit, and, with her mind still reeling, banged the back of her head against the edge of the pit, knocked out with all the whites in her eyes.


    The White Mage just stared. At the helmetless idiot she''s trying to protect. And at the idiot that’s now sprawled unconscious in the mud.


    “Oh for the love of…”


    She pushed forward, minding her footing in case there were more traps. She grabbed Fredrick by the arm, grunted, and dragged him armor and all to where Lauren had fallen. Both were secured behind the magic shield.


    “Sunni,” she huffed, “Cast some fireballs to stall the goblins. Once they’re distracted, help drag these two out of here and back to camp. Understood?”


    No response.


    “...Sunni?”


    She looked behind. The elemental mage was back in the foliage as a nervous wreck, crawled into the bushes and curled up in a ball with tears and snot trailing down her face.


    “We are going to die we are going to we’re going to die oh Goddess we are going to die…”


    Sunni was useless.


    The White Mage gaped as she looked at her party one by one: too stupid, too scared, and too vain, all out of the fight.


    All the goblins cackled atop of the hill. With the White Mage now alone, the rain of rocks stopped, and the goblins skipped down the hill in their ram-shackled weapons and armor with glee in their eyes and a high-pitched battle cry.


    Before long, the three goblins were upon her. One banged at the magic wall with his club while the other two scampered their way around.


    She clenched her jaw and took a deep, deep breath.


    "...Fine then.”


    <hr>


    "I''ll do it myself.”


    And she released the barrier.


    The goblin hit nothing, then stumbled. The last thing it saw was the White Mage raising her staff—and dropping it like a hammer.


    Green blood splatters fell by the other two goblins'' feet. They halted, shocked, staring at their brother’s life essence. By the time they processed what had just happened, it was already too late.


    In a single, graceful arc, the metal shard tied to the staff glided across their exposed throats, leaving a thin trail of green on its way out. Both slumped, joining their brother in the dirt.


    The White Mage glared over her shoulder.


    The four incoming all dug their heels, eyes on the blood-slicked blade.


    One stopped too late: a goblin, whose helmet bounced and spun on its smaller head, charged in half deaf and half blind—and ran straight into White Mage’s staff. Both shield and sword dropped from its hands as it gurgled, stuck on the metal shard.


    Seeing the opportunity, a goblin with a spear ran in and made to thrust, only for the White Mage to simply move her staff, along with the impaled helmeted goblin, in its way. The spearhead caught inside the corpse, stuck.


    The White Mage tightened her grip and then wretched. The corpse was ripped free from her staff and took the goblin’s spear with it. The goblin could do nothing but look at its empty hands dumbly before she jabbed and took its life away.


    The remaining two screamed. One of them had enough brains to turn around and run, then stumbled, then crawled, and then got back up running again. The other—swish—no longer had a brain to compare with anymore.


    The White Mage pointed her staff. “[Barrier].”


    Smack! The last goblin recoiled and hissed, holding its broken nose—and freaked when the White Mage grabbed its head from behind, lifted it, and grinded its face against the translucent wall.


    “You know,” she muttered, “if my party members had at least a couple of brain cells like yours, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But like always, I warned them and...”


    She bashed its skull against the barrier, again and again and...


    “They. Just. Never. LISTEN.”


    Splat!


    Brain matter dripped down the barrier as the White Mage huffed, flicking the leftover gunk off her gloves. But as much as she wanted to ditch the morons for putting themselves into the worst possible situation, against goblins of all things…


    “...A job’s a job. The party must return alive.”


    The White Mage gazed up the hill and examined the encampment, calculating.


    And she made her conclusion: in order to bring the party back to safety, all the goblins must die.


    From the wooden structures, the goblins screamed, pointing down the hill. They saw their dead, saw the White Mage still standing, and started shooting again.


    Raising her staff, she marched forward. The [Barrier] moved with her as the rocks bounced off the surface, not a crack nor ripple to be seen.


    Stones alone were not enough to stop her, the goblins realized, and so they included mud, planks, potatoes—anything to slow her down. But no, she maintained her slow and sedate pace, trudging up the hill seemingly unbothered. With every step she took, every trap she avoided, waves of panic seeped into the goblin ranks.


    One goblin yelled at another who yelled back. They pointed at the human down the hill, spat on each other, shoved each other—and both were suddenly shoved aside by an imposing, hulking figure...


    The goblins parted like the sea.


    Taller than the rest, fatter than the rest, and as if showing who lorded over them all, the stick it carried was also bigger than the rest.


    The White Mage squinted. When she saw the pair of tusks inscribed with strange markings dangling around its neck: “...A goblin shaman.”


    The goblin shaman looked down on the White Mage. It raised its wooden staff. Dark energies swirled where there would normally be a magic stone, and, like flint against tinder, it ignited. A horrible ball of flame appeared and the goblins cheered with the rising heat. It grew hot. Very hot. With a cruel, mocking grin, it aimed down the hill and released!


    "[Barrier]."


    The fireball struck the barrier—and exploded right in front of the goblin shaman''s face.


    The blast set the nearby goblins aflame, sent them flying.


    The goblin shaman itself cried and rolled on the ground. It clawed at the flames. Clawed the burns. When its skin was burnt tissue, it was crawling on its stomach, calling for help. But the other goblins blindly ran past like headless chickens, bumping into each other and spreading the flames.


    Then a shadow fell over it.


    White Mage had hopped over the flames, ignored by the panicking goblins, unnoticed by the prone goblin shaman. And the shaman gurgled, blood spewing out of the hole she just made.


    The White Mage sprinted off without a second glance.


    She smashed, slashed, and stabbed. Those already burning to death she left alone while she pursued the survivors, white cloak billowing in the heat like the specter of Death. She culled the weak, reaped the cowardly, and by the fifth, eight, tenth, and then twelfth, only the brave and stupid remained.


    A goblin charged at her with a wooden club; she spun the staff so the crystal receptacle nestled in the crook of her elbow, the sharper end pointed far out. She had the better reach, and she stabbed its throat without it being able to do a thing.


    Another swung with a spear. She planted her staff and braced; the recoil hurt so bad the goblin dropped its weapon and fell on its back. Wasting no time, she heel-stomped right into its thin neck—and it snapped.


    The fire had already spread throughout more than half of the encampment. Smoke began to reach the sky, and she pulled up the hood of her cloak to ward off the stench of burnt goblin flesh.


    Whether they realized she was alone or that this was their last chance to kill her, they wised up and began to reorganize. A goblin lifted its sword and gargled, and the others joined the fray with a resounding battle cry.


    The White Mage counted: six surrounded her, six more behind them. One at the back issuing orders.


    A coolness washed over her.


    She kicked up the spear from the goblin she just killed and caught the wooden end, eyes not once wavering before the enemy.


    The goblin leader barked and they all charged her all at once. They thought her spear would only take out two or three before they reached. They thought they could dog pile on her before she could retaliate. They thought, even their clubs and swords and terribly-fitted armor, they could deprive her of her weapon.


    They thought wrong.


    “[Reinforcement]. [Featherlight].”


    The White Mage braced her foot, and pivoted.


    The air cracked once, twice, as the spearhead became the wind.


    In the first spin there were six. In the second there were twelve. Twelve bisected bodies, joining the cleaved weapons and armor in the dirt as blood rained and splattered into the open flames. A stray drop of sweat on her brow evaporated from the heat.


    “So much for Newton’s Second Law,” she whispered.


    Her cloak fell back down to her calves, and she glanced aside. One left.


    The moment it realized what had just happened, the goblin turned tail and ran. Just a regular mook, the bottom of the barrel of its kind. No other goblins. No other surprises.


    The White Mage huffed. Shifting into an underhanded grip, she reared back the spear and threw.


    The spear grazed its side, embedded itself in the dirt, but it did its job. The goblin collapsed with a scream.


    It wheezed, whimpered. It rolled onto its back, clutching its side to staunch the bleeding. This put itself back under the cold gaze of Death. It shivered despite the sweltering heat of the burning corpses of its kin. And when it saw the menace approach, it desperately pushed its lanky legs once for every two of her strides, before a boot stomped its struggle flat.


    It''s said that in a goblin''s last moments, it would only glare with hatred and jealousy in its eyes, scheming to the bitter end.


    This goblin could only look up in fear.


    The White Mage had her staff raised up high. With a bored, blue glint, she swung down...


    <hr>


    ...and threw the doors wide open.


    Everyone in the Guild Hall turned their heads to the arrivals with a curse or a slur ready in their lips. And balked.


    The White Mage strode into the room, her boots leaving behind a trail of green footsteps in its wake. Her prim white cloak was blotched in copious amounts of goblin blood, the hems flapping along her ankles like wet fish. With a dripping green bag on hand, she had her staff and the shredded halves of a Return Scroll on the other.


    Following in a line like meek little ducklings were Frederick, Sunni and Lauren in varying states of disarray, their eyes set firmly on the floor. Whether haunted or ashamed or both—only the veterans could tell.


    Some had the sense to turn away from the awful stench. Others were too morbidly fascinated to care. Before the party reached the front desk, all but one of the receptionists muttered a quick excuse before making their escape, leaving just the one behind. By then, the smell of drama and goblin guts permeated the air.


    The poor woman manning the reception desk only had a binder to cover her nose, even going as far as to physically reel as many centimeters as possible without breaching professional decorum. Not like anyone could blame her if she did.


    "By the Goddess... What happened? Why are you covered in blood? And—euugh! That stench…!”


    “I killed all the goblins.”


    “So your party killed goblins,” the Receptionist said. “That doesn’t explain—“


    Thunk!


    The White Mage let go of the bag of goblin ears; the flakes of blood rolled down the crummy curve of the sack and stained the counter. “I killed all the goblins.”


    The words paused in the receptionist’s lips. Her gaze cast over the miserable trio behind the girl. The Archer was covered in mud from head to toe, the Swordsman nursed a fresh bandage over his forehead, and the Fire Mage had sticks and leaves sticking out of her hair. But all in all, they were fine. Too fine. Not a drop of green blood on even the supposed front line fighter. The White Mage on the other hand...


    It didn’t take long for it to dawn on her.


    The guild receptionist pushed up her glasses. “I-I see. So you killed all the goblins, Miss… U-uh…”


    The White Mage sighed.


    “Willow,” she said. “Designated White Mage from the Support Corps.”